#maybe I’ll be extra annoying about Rhys

[rhysnolastname]

When I finish my finals, I’m gonna try that free cam mod 😴

[bookish-whore]

Girls Night

Cassian x Nesta/fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, slight praise kink, light choking, oral sex, classic p-in-v, sprinkled with fluff.

Summary: Girl’s night with the Valkyries gets derailed when Cassian gets jealous over the details Nesta shares with the girls and decides to give her something to talk about.

A/N: This is my first fanfic so please be nice to me but also, I would love any feedback or requests! 

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Today began like any other day, wake up and have breakfast with Cassian because cauldron knows he won’t be satisfied unless he knows I ate a decent breakfast; then its training with the Valkyries (and Azriel) gods knows he can’t go more than a few days without hanging around Gwyn and he thinks we are all oblivious to the obvious flirting going on; some spymaster he is. Then after cleaning up, I go down and help Clotho in the library until dinner usually… but not tonight.

No, tonight is girls night which means I get to kick Az and Cass out of the house and enjoy time with Emerie and Gywn, the boys usually don’t mind and I know they will most likely just fly down to Rita’s to spend the evening with Mor or they’ll go to the River house to annoy Rhys and Feyre, maybe they’ll get stuck on babysitting duty so those two can have some “alone time”. Regardless it’s not my problem, all I know is I have selected a compilation of my favorite Willa Colyns novels, I made up the sitting room full of cozy chairs, pillows, and blankets (and extra lighting of course) and I stopped by one of our favorite confectioners in Velaris to pick up a decadent selection of cakes and candies for us to eat while we gossip and read. At least that was the plan.

It was almost time for the girls to arrive and I needed to get comfortable for the night, we had a strict rule that day clothes were not allowed for these events, comfort was non-negotiable. So, I changed out of my simple day dress into a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized sweater and began detangling my hair from the braided style I normally wear, letting it fall into loose waves down my back as I ran a comb through it. After a quick look in the mirror, I left my bedroom and made my way to the sitting room, as I rounded the corner from the stairs, I ran into Gwyn promptly on time as usual.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, books in hand “I know you were in charge of reading material this week, but I promised Emerie she could borrow these, and I’ve been meaning to give them to her”

I smiled at her “no explanation needed, its not like its unusual for us to all bring some kind of book for exchange no matter whose week it is” she laughed in agreement as Emerie emerged from the sitting room.

“I was wondering when you two would show up” she said with a smirk on her face “let’s get this party started, I am dying to hear the rest of this bathtub story Nes.” Gwyn nodded her head in agreement “Yes! We were so rudely interrupted last time and hadn’t even gotten to the juicy details, I want details.”

“Details about what?” said Cassian emerging from the stairs, no doubt from another late sparring session with Azriel.

“Oh, just about what a thorough lover you are Cassian” Emerie said sarcastically with a wink.

I shook my head and laughed, motioning my head towards the sitting room as a silent gesture for Gwyn and Emerie to enter and that I would follow shortly.

“What was that about?” Cassian asked tilting his head and pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss.

“Its girls night remember, so we will read our smutty romance books you tease me about, and eat junk, and talk about our sex-capades which just means I’ll be relaying stories about all the places and positions we’ve tried and what works and what doesn’t, girl talk you know” I let out a giggle at his shocked face. “You know exactly what we do! its not a secret or anything and I know you make Azriel use his shadows to eavesdrop on us sometimes so you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well what details exactly do you give them about our sex-capades?” he asks, tilting his head while waiting for my response.

“Everything, I have nothing to hide from them and they are curious about the general of the night court and his weapons of choice” I say suggestively.

“Everything? Like what I do to you? what you do to me? positions? places? That kind of everything Nes?”

“That’s kind of what everything means Cass, plus I’m sure you tell Rhys and Az details about our sex life, although Az probably doesn’t need them considering he has caught us in a number of compromising positions” he took a step back from me and crossed his arms over his chest giving me a stern look. He seems like he’s in a mood tonight, over what I have no clue, but he’s never really questioned what the three of us do when we spend time together.

“I just don’t see why they need such explicit details; I mean I am technically their superior you don’t think It would complicate things when they know sensitive details about our relationship Nes? I mean you didn’t think to ask if I would be comfortable with this. Come on” he runs his hands through his hair and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, besides it’s not like I’m writing a book about how big your dick is or how often you go down on me. I’m telling my friends about our relationship which just so happens to include details about our sex life.” I tell him firmly.

“Details about our sex life, right so I’m sure you told them all about the dining room incident. the library. The balcony. Solstice. Starfall. All of that right?”

“I didn’t think I needed permission to talk to my friends, you might be my mate, but you don’t get to decide who I talk to and what I decide to talk about Cass.”

“I think I should have some say” he replies

“Well, you don’t” I snap. His eyes narrow on mine and gives me a look I can’t quite place.

Oh, he was definitely in a mood, I thought as he grabbed my hand leading me into a small study down the hall from the sitting room and closing the door behind us.

Here we go. I thought to myself as he stared at me, his eyes darkening as his lips curved into a mischievous smirk.

“Cass, look I don’t want-“

He cut me off by pushing me against the wall in a desperate kiss, it was a clash of teeth and tongues as he wrapped his hand in my hair and tilted my head back for better access. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

His hand shifted to wrap my hair around his fist as he came close to my ear and growled “you want to tell your friends all about how I fuck you? Fine. I’ll give you something to tell them”

I instinctively squeezed my thighs together and gods damn him he knew exactly what he was doing to me as he chuckled and said, “I bet you’re already soaking wet for me aren’t you?”

He removed his hands from my hair and slowly began moving them down my body, first to cup the back of my neck as he kissed me again with the same level of intensity as before, pressing into me and deepening the kiss as I opened my mouth and allowed him access. He moved one hand down my front to the bottom hem of my sweater, slowly trailing underneath it and sliding his hand up to my breasts, my nipples hardened at the sudden change in temperature. He rolled my nipple between his fingers as his other hand took both of mine and pinned them above my head firmly holding my wrists in place. I let out another breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my lips as his leg came to rest between my thighs, I was fully at his mercy and gods damn him he knew it.  

I rolled my hips on his muscular thigh desperately seeking any kind of friction to my aching clit, he was right I needed him so badly.

“That’s my good girl” He said, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck and planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses in the soft spot below my jaw and earlobe. “So needy for me” he says as his hands both move down my body to rest on my hips as he sets an aggressive pace rocking my hips against his thigh, I lean my head back to rest on the wall and move my hands to rest on his shoulders, my eyes screwed shut at the sensation and my mouth open

“oh gods” I cry out, feeling that band low in my belly start to tighten as I got closer and closer to my release.

“The gods aren’t here Nes, I am but you’re more then welcome to get on your knees and worship me”

He hands tighten on my hips and without warning he lifts me off his thigh. I whimper at the loss of friction but wrap my legs around his waist as he moves us to the desk across the room setting me on the edge. He takes a step away from me and begins unfastening his leathers, carefully removing all the hidden blades he constantly carries. Utilizing the opportunity, I move my hands to the bottom of my sweater lifting it over my head in a swift motion, and quickly discard my leggings and panties. As he removes his leathers, leaving us both completely bare I am suddenly reminded of his earlier remark about worshipping him.  

I slowly sink to my knees in front of him, looking up at him through my eyelashes in the sultry way that I know drives him wild. He gives me a smirk “I bet that pretty little cunt is throbbing at the thought of my cock in your mouth, huh?”

“mmhmm” I moan back, taking his cock in my hand my mouth salivating as I take in the sheer size of him. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how big he is, how he feels in my hand and in my mouth.

I bring my tongue down to circle the head of his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head sweeping my hair into one hand. Taking his gesture as a sign of his encouragement, I drag my tongue from the head of his cock, and down his shaft until I reach the base of him using my thumb to swirl my saliva over the tip of him. Once I’m satisfied with my teasing, I look up at him as I bring my mouth around him, taking him as far as I can until my eyes water, and I feel like gagging. I slowly begin to bob my head, my hands wrapping around what my mouth can’t take as I set my pace, his hips thrusting in unison with my mouth.

“You take my cock so well” he groaned through his teeth, his head leaned back, and eyes closed enjoying the sensation of me sucking him off. “fuck” he blew out, pulling me gently off him “keep that up Nes, and I’ll cum before I even get to be inside that perfect pussy of yours”

I feel a rush of wetness between my legs at his words, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me come undone and he hasn’t even touched me yet. I stand up facing him, his hands resting on my shoulders as he pushes me back onto the desk.

“Now lean back, and let me see what a mess you made for me”

Grinning with anticipation I bring my feet up to rest on the edge of the desk, spreading my legs wide so he can see exactly what he does to me my wetness glistening in the soft light of the study. He wastes no time kneeling before me taking two fingers and coating them in my wetness, dragging them across my sensitive bundle of nerves. I lean my head back against the desk as my back arches, my mouth open in a silent moan. He brings one hand up to cup my breast and I feel two fingers enter me, pumping slowly as he dragged his tongue clear up my center. I swear I see stars because this…

This was pure devotion, I thought, this Illyrian war general, Lord of Bloodshed on his knees for me completely dedicated to my pleasure and devouring me like this was his last supper.

I feel my orgasm building as his tongue and fingers move in unison “Cass, I-“

“I know sweetheart, cum for me” he commands

And I do, my release coating his fingers, a moan escaping my lips as my vision returns to normal.

He plants a final sloppy kiss on my clit and begins trailing soft open-mouthed kisses up my body. Stopping at my breasts and grazing each nipple with his teeth before meeting my mouth in a needy kiss the taste of both our fluids lingering on our tongues. I moan into his mouth as his hard length presses into my entrance. He reaches a hand between us to line himself up as he slides into me in one long thrust burying himself to the hilt. We both gasp at the sensation.

Cassian leans back to watch where our bodies are connected, slowly pulling out of me to the tip before ramming his cock back into me his thumb moving to my clit, rubbing lazy circles while the other holds onto my hip as he sets an excruciatingly slow pace, I can feel every detail of his cock pulling out of me before he snaps back into me.

“Please- Cass, I- I- need more” I pant between thrusts. He stops and leans close to my ear.

“All you had to do was ask sweetheart.” He grins, slipping out of me and turning me around to face the desk “Now be a good girl and bend over”

I lean over the desk and spread my legs to give him access to my center. He moves my hair over my shoulder pushing my face lower to the desk. He pushes into me, the new angle hitting a much deeper place inside me, I let out a breathy moan at the feeling. His hands move to grip my hips pulling me into every thrust. He sets a relentless pace as the sinful sounds of flesh slapping fill the study.

“You feel so good, like this pussy was made for me” he groans

One of his hands holds my waist firmly against the desk as the other comes to wrap around my throat, I arch my back into his touch allowing him better access. His skilled fingers lightly squeeze eliciting a moan from me and I feel my release slowly building.

I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him as he continues railing me from behind, my hands adjusting their grip on the desk, so I can meet his thrusts rocking myself back onto him, his cock hitting that perfect part of me that I know will send me over the edge. “I’m- I’m so close Cass-” I manage to say as his hands come to grasp my hips and I can feel every inch of him as he ruts into me, every vein and ridge of his massive length as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s my good girl, you’re taking me so well” he moans

“Cass I can’t- fuck I’m gonna- I’m-” I whimper out

“That’s it baby, make a mess all over my cock” he says as the next thrust pushes me over the edge, I feel my walls constrict around him as I scream his name coming completely undone, my body feeling weak as my legs turn to jelly. He grips me tighter, pumping into me as he builds to his own release which is not far behind as his calculated thrusts become more erratic and uncontrolled. Cassian came with a loud moan; his dick pulsing inside of me as his release barrels through him his wings flaring behind him, the sensation sent me over the edge again; another orgasm rolling through me that makes my already fluttering walls tighten around him. He slowly pulls out of me with a groan.

I feel the combination of both our releases slowly slide down my thigh as he presses a kiss to my shoulder grabbing a towel from the small bathroom within the study to clean me up. Once he is satisfied with his handiwork, we begin collecting our discarded clothing pulling it on in comfortable silence.

“You weren’t really upset at all were you?” I question him with a sly grin as we both finish getting dressed.

“No, just thought I would give you some new material.” I roll my eyes at his response “Now if I recall, you have guests and I’m not supposed to be here. Have fun with the girls Nes” he gives me a kiss on the head and walks out of the study, and out of the house.

After a quick look in the mirror in the hall, I make my way back to the sitting room.

“What was all that about?” Emerie asks as I enter. She returns her attention to pouring three glasses of wine as I take up my spot for the night.

“I think were about to find out” says Gwyn, I laugh and take a glass from Emerie.

“Well…today started just like every other day” I begin.

[hlizr50]

You Belong with Me

Azriel and his brothers are high-power executives, and while the Valkyrie ladies always attend the fancy dinners and events, Gwyn is NOT wealthy and is the only one who isn't attached to someone who is. When Gwyn volunteers to take Azriel to the cabin early to prep for their big family/friends vacation, they have a conversation about how she might have to cut back. Add in banter and hours of Gwyn unabashedly belting Taylor Swift, and Az realizes that not having her around is just not an option.

Guys... I've never cared for AU, never been big into song lyrics. But my soul just needed this to be a thing. So here it is.

Read on AO3

“You sure this thing is gonna get us there?” Azriel’s smug grin only earned an eyeroll from the redhead on the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side door.

“Just put your shit in the trunk and get in the car,” she huffed across the weathered blue of the roof. He chuckled, slinging his suitcase into the trunk as the door slammed – maybe with a little extra force. He loved poking at her, and he knew she would dish it right back. After closing the trunk he returned to the open door on the passenger’s side and lowered himself into the well-worn leather seat. “You know not all of us are fortunate enough to be high-level executives at multi-million dollar companies. But rest assured that this historical document restoration expert and her 16-year-old Toyota with 154000 miles are going to get you to the cabin safe and sound. Because you insisted on getting there a day early to make sure everything is secure.” Gwyn deepened her voice, giving him her best Azriel impersonation. And maybe he was being a bit… overzealous. But he had always been the most keenly aware, the most protective. He may have been CFO, but he was also deeply involved in security – both from the standpoint of the organization and of it’s employees. And his family.

He simply smirked, “If you say so.”

“You’re insufferable,” she groaned, turning the key. The car rumbled to life, and Azriel had to admit that he was impressed with how quiet it still seemed to run. He was sure Gwyn was a stickler about maintenance. “Just for that, you are sentenced to three hours of me serenading you with the best songs Taylor Swift has to offer.”

“Oh, Gods, anything but Taylor Swift.” Azriel grimaced, hiding the secret joy he rarely let her see. He loved it when she sang. Her voice was lovely, of course, but what hit him harder was how she seemed to radiate joy when she did it.

Gwyneth Berdara wasn’t quiet and shy like he tended to be – not by a long shot. She was irreverent and blunt and bold. But he could see the shadows that hid just behind the shimmer in her eyes – he could tell there were demons there. Her sister had been murdered four years before, in the apartment they both had shared, and it had wounded her deeply. Nesta had mentioned that there was more to the story, but that it was only Gwyn’s to tell. So, yes, she definitely had darkness that followed her, but she kept it well hidden. He’d learned, as they had become friends, that she often grew anxious in large crowds or chaotic environments. She didn’t feel safe, and that had always bothered him. Regardless of how many people were around or how crazy it was, her friends were there with her. He was there. Whatever it was that kept her so on edge, he imagined that the lingering sadness in that deep ocean gaze and the faraway wistful look that sometimes passed over her features were a part of it.

But when she sang she was a beacon of light, with the brightest smile and rosy, freckle-flecked cheeks.

“Don’t you dare disrespect the goddess T. Swift,” she glowered, and as they pulled onto the highway he lost himself in the lilting notes of her car concert.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving – at least seven works of the goddess T. Swift – when he reached for the volume knob on the console and turned it down.

“Are you coming to the charity gala in a couple weeks?” Azriel looked over at her, noting the light stain of pink gracing her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the road.

“Oh… No.” Gwyn glanced over at him and gave a tight smile, causing him to purse his lips.

“Why not?”

“Az,” she chided, throwing him a stern look. “It’s too expensive. I can’t afford a seat and a dress. Hell, I probably can’t even afford one or the other.” He stayed silent, mulling over the understanding that money wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, and how he could make that not a problem for her. “Besides, you know how I am with crowds like that. I’d probably just have an attack and ruin everyone’s night.” She tried to laugh it off, and that troubled Azriel even more. Because she had seemed disappointed just then when she said she wasn’t going.

“Do you want to go, Gwyn?” He prodded. I want you to go. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat to straighten her back.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s really not possible for me.” She shrugged, as if that was it.

But that wasn’t it. Everyone was going to be there. She should be there, too. She should be there, with him.

“You know we would help –“

“I know, Az. But I’m not asking you, or Rhys. I’m not asking anyone. I can’t keep depending on everyone else just to go to events and dinners and whatever else.” She sucked in a breath. “I just… I don’t live the same life that the rest of you do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how it is.”

“Gwyn, you know nobody cares about that.” Azriel frowned. “I understand that my family is… fortunate. Privileged. But you and Nesta and Emerie are a part of us.”

“It’s not the same, Azriel.” Azriel. The full name. This was more serious than he realized. “Nesta is with Cassian and Emerie is with Mor. It makes sense that maybe they’re taken care of. I’m just… a friend. A friend who is poor.” He opened his mouth to argue but she beat him to it. “And it’s not just about covering food… you go to places with dress codes and too many forks for dinner, and with the company’s increasing success the three of you are only growing more popular and more press-worthy. Especially you.”

“Me?” Azriel swallowed, brows furrowed. “Why especially me?”

Gwyn cast him a pointed look, eyes dark and serious. “You’re the last single brother, Az. You are eligible bachelor number one. All the single ladies in the metropolitan area, if not further out, will be pining for you. If they’re not already.”

Eligible bachelor number one. He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Oh Az. Sweet, precious, innocent Az. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. You’re wealthy, successful, and absolutely beautiful.” Azriel raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance, but she was so stubbornly keeping her eyes trained ahead. It was responsible, of course. She was driving. But not even a peek meant that she was intentionally avoiding looking over at him. The corners of his mouth turned downward, not quite understanding how this conversation had gone the way it had.

“Is that so? Please, tell me more,” he snickered. If there was anything that he knew, it was how to draw her back with teasing. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and Gwyneth Berdara was ruthless when it came to having the last word. The corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was doing her best not to smile.

“I hate you so much,” she huffed.

“Now, I don’t think that’s even remotely true.” He reached out to pinch the apple of her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, sending a glower that only made him laugh.

“The single ladies can have you. Maybe you’ll find someone else to annoy.”

“Aw, Gwynnie. You know nobody could ever replace you.” And even though it was in jest, it was also… true. “And what would you do without me?”

“Get some peace and quiet for once?” And when the redhead turned with that scrunched freckled nose and her tongue stuck out at him Azriel was relieved to have the playful girl – his best friend – wearing a smile again. “Now shut it or sing along, you have not been punished with nearly enough of our lady Taylor Swift.”

And so the ride continued, but Azriel chewed on his lower lip, contemplating everything Gwyn had said. She was fiercely independent, so he could understand how she might not want to accept what she might perceive as charity, or worse, pity. But the idea of her just not being there… it made something inside of him feel hollow. He reached out and turned down the volume again.

“Why wouldn’t you say anything? About where we’re going to dinner? Or about not being comfortable at big events?” He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at her, trying to pinpoint any reaction she may have. Once again pink stained her cheeks.

“Az, it’s not like you guys are going to stop going to fancy restaurants so you can come to Wendy’s with me. I don’t want to take away from anyone’s fun.” Fucking ridiculous.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have less fun without you there?” Azriel tried to keep his tone light, but his temper was flaring. He wasn’t sure why, but it bothered him that she would think she could just… not be there and they would all just go on like it didn’t matter.

“Of course I did,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a wink. “I know it will be hard but I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Besides, I don’t plan on just disappearing. I just… need to be more thoughtful about what I’m doing. I’ll just be around… less.” She turned the volume back up and jumped straight into the lyrics, not giving him the opportunity to tell her how preposterous she sounded.

Azriel leaned back in his seat, losing himself in thought with Gwyn’s lovely voice still soothing him in the background. He didn’t know how long he’d been brooding when the volume increased dramatically, blaring through the interior. Looking over he found her tapping on the steering wheel and swaying to the beat of her majesty Taylor Swift. Her eyes were shining, her smile was brilliant, and she sang like she didn’t have a care in the world.

You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset

She’s going off about something that you said

‘Cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do

I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night

I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like

And she’ll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

You belong with me

Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself

Hey, isn’t this easy?

And you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town

I haven’t seen it in awhile since she brought you down

You say you’re fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was seeing Gwyn for the first time. Unbridled joy, laughter when she turned to him when she was singing, dancing in the driver’s seat like a passenger’s worst nightmare.

And he couldn’t help but listen to the words, too. Surely that part was coincidence, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking to him… something was speaking to him.

He grinned as she shimmied her shoulders and rocked her head from side to side, wisps of copper flying away from her ponytail.

Oh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh even though you’re ‘bout to cry

I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me

Can’t you see that I’m the one that understands you

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me

You belong with me

“Gosh I think I went too hard on that one. I’m out of breath!” she laughed, and she glanced toward Azriel in the passenger seat. “Have you had enough yet, Az?”

“Never,” he murmured, and her breath caught. She turned her focus back to the road, but kept stealing looks back at him. She seemed unsure of how to respond, but he was also lost in his own head.

He didn’t want to be the eligible bachelor. He didn’t want to annoy anyone else. He knew that he had cared for Gwyn as more than a friend for a long time – Nesta and Cassian had always encouraged him to do something about it. Nesta in particular had assured him that Gwyn felt the same way. But no matter how much Azriel had flirted she never seemed to acknowledge it, never seemed inclined to do something about it. They bantered and challenged and laughed, but never more.

But Nesta continued to be insistent. She told Azriel that there were some things about Gwyn that might keep her from acting upon her affection for him, and maybe he should make the first move. He never had, of course, for fear of rejection and fear of ruining the relationship that they had.

But now suddenly he was looking at a future where she wasn’t always there. He didn’t like the thought of that. He would go to Wendy’s for dinner instead of whatever black-tie restaurant had their reservation. But, furthermore, he would take care of her, like Cassian took care of Nesta. He wouldn’t go to events without her, and he would make sure that she was comfortable and safe while she was there. Because he would keep her close. He would always keep her close.

By the time Gwyn was pulling the car onto the driveway leading to the cabin she was only singing quietly to herself and letting him sit in his own silent thought. And as soon as she parked and turned off the car he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Without a word he ripped off the seatbelt and burst out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He was already crossing across the front when Gwyn popped out.

“What the hell, Az? The car is 16 years old you can’t just slam doors like that –“

Azriel grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. Gods, they were perfect – warm and lush. She inhaled shakily against his mouth and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He swept his lips across hers once again before pulling away only slightly, resting his forehead against her own. They were both breathing hard, and her expression nearly sent him to his knees. Gwyn’s teal eyes were wide, shining with surprise and confusion. Her lips were swollen and her freckled cheeks stained crimson. Azriel wasn’t going to give himself enough time to question this, though.

“You’re coming to the gala,” he insisted, gaze flitting wildly between her lips and her eyes before drowning in the ocean pools. “I’m buying your ticket. On our way home after this weekend we’ll go shopping for a dress. And no matter what you wear you will be the most exquisite thing there.”

Gwyn looked up at him, chest still heaving and eyes still wide, and nodded.

“And you’re coming to every dinner and event and anything else after that. Because, no matter what you might think, I don’t want to be there if you’re not there.”

“Az –“

“And when you’re there, you won’t think about money or crowds. Because I’ll be there. I’m going to take care of you and make sure you’re safe. Because I don’t just want you to be there with all of us. I want you to be there with me. Okay, Gwyn?” His eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand, to see what was in his heart.

“Okay,” she nodded. Her breaths had quieted, her eyes were warm, and there was a ghost of a smile there. And Azriel dared to hope that Nesta had been right, and all he’d needed was to take the leap.

“Can I kiss you again, Gwyn?” he asked.

“Please,” she giggled at him, smile widening. He leaned in, this time with much more restraint and care, slanting his lips over her soft ones and gently moving against them. When he pulled away his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, which grew impossibly bigger when he saw her blushing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he laughed, still not believing that he had done all that, and that it had… worked?

“I… I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” Gwyn sighed and then dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “So… so just to be clear. You want me… to be…?” Azriel chuckled and ran his hands down her arms and then tangling their fingers together.

“I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to aggravate any other single ladies. I don’t want to be an eligible bachelor. I just want you. We can go to fancy dinners or charity events or the finest fast food restaurants in the metropolitan area.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then kissed her cheek. “Will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Of course, Az.” He bent his head and kissed her again. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was making up for lost time.

“As her holy highness Taylor Swift said, you belong with me,” Azriel grinned devilishly. “I can’t help but be suspicious that you planned that… planned to make me fall for your beautiful voice and how adorable you are.” Gwyn tilted her head back and laughed, nearly a cackle full of amusement and contentment.

“I did not plan it, but I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”

[vidalinav]

Headcanons: Nesta/Feyre

I’m not sure what I want Feyre and Nesta’s dynamic to be... I mean I’ve written some headcanons about it. The two of them not agreeing on anything but trying to make it work anyways, because they have now begrudgingly accepted and confirmed that they love each other (whatever that means). 

I can’t imagine them fighting together, working together, being buddy-buddy in the conventional sense. I would absolutely hate that and I will never write it. But I do imagine Feyre actually going to Nesta if she really has a problem, because she knows Nesta will undoubtedly side with her, and sometimes you just need someone to side with you, who you know will fight for you and agree even if you don’t feel exactly or totally right (and yes I understand that seems hypocritical, but we moving) or perhaps someone to not agree. Nesta is always ready to fight, so she’ll let Feyre choose the chosen enemy of the day. 

I imagine Feyre being annoying, because she often is lol and definitely all up in her business, in all things related to Cassian, her life, and her powers. I imagine Nesta going to Feyre with the secrecy of her powers (because she still has them) and it ends up with Feyre being like we should ask Rhys, and Nesta just sighs exasperated, because no, that was not the point of her coming to her! Because if Rhys knows then Amren knows then Azriel knows then Mor knows and everyone knows and it’s everyone’s business and Nesta hates people in her business. So Feyre’s like... I see your point... and she’s trying to actually listen to what Nesta wants. They’re both adjusting to each other, and she’s like fine... And the situation becomes a sister secret type of thing because they can handle it... probably. If it gets really bad they’ll tell someone, but until then... they’ll try some things out. They’re not lying psshhh. They’re just... lying. 

I imagine though that when Feyre is extra in her business as she tends to be, Nesta will turn on the symphonia to drown out her voice, putting it louder only for Feyre to talk louder, yelling that she’s not going to stop talking even if she wants her to. Cassian will walk in on these moments and look around like wth did I walk into? Because music is blasting, Feyre is yelling, and Nesta is putting two fingers in her ears and walking away loudly humming to the music. 

I want the act that Nesta does to wholeheartedly segment the fact that Nesta loves Feyre and that Feyre loves Nesta, to the point where they will argue and hate and insult and yell and be the worst versions of each other, and still there is not a doubt in their mind that they love each other and they will have each other’s back. It’s like they can’t doubt it anymore. It’s fact. Because the problem in their relationship was not what had or had not been done, what had or hadn’t been said, it was the doubt. Nesta and Feyre are undoubtedly on each other’s sides now. To the point where even if it’s stupid and entirely incorrect, they will side with each other stubbornly, only muttering under their breath or talking after like... Nesta are you insane? Feyre, what the hell are thinking? 

And It’s Feyre who ends up telling Rhys, after finally understanding Nesta’s MO, that Nesta saving them wasn’t about settling scores or being forgiven for the crime of her not helping, because that wasn’t her crime, and she didn’t do it to get paid or join their group or to be anything else than what she already has proven. Nesta did it because she loves her, her sister, herself, and that’s what Nesta does for people she loves. Absolutely no doubt. 

But they will for sure hate each other lol in the ways sisters hate each other. The way where they’re like you’re not my type of person, however you’re family so I’ll deal but only for you. That’s the relationship I want for them. (but fvcking SJM ruining dreams since... when did ACOFAS come out? It went downhill from there... sigh). 

And no more bogus solstice gifts that are not personal--at least with Feyre and Nesta. Like that year, they actually try. But damn is it hard to figure each other out. They have the hardest time, because they’re like who the hell are you? Feyre doesn’t give her a painting, because I’m tired of paintings yo, sing a new song already.  

*** Actually I want to write a fic where Feyre and Nesta actually go get necklaces as cheesy as that sounds (the book is already cheesy okay?) and they’re lockets of course, ovalish and they have an engraved ‘A’ on it for Archeron obviously. And they get one of course for Elain too. She’s noticably absent you see, but they get one for Elain, but Elain doesn’t know this, and all she sees is that Nesta and Feyre have one. I want middle sister syndrome to hit hard, the forgotten sibling saga. Love that drama. Chef’s kiss*. Mwah. Feyre and Nesta instead of putting pictures in them, put a wish for each other on a folded up piece of paper. Accidentally magical of course, and they’re not suppose to read them until Solstice night because they also did this with Elain’s and they planned on opening them together. That’s their present that year... even though they did each get another present for each other, because well they can and it’s that year that they start doing more than the bare minimum. But... hohohoho Elain ends up getting really mad and yelling maybe... probably mostly at Nesta, because she used to be her favorite, and she also had a comradery with Feyre so she’s like why am I being left out???? Nesta gets mad, Feyre’s like... “I did not expect this, but Elain, that’s probably unfair to just be yelling at Nesta, but Nesta you are also not helping,” and Elain is like you’re taking her side now! I want that taking sides thing to come back up again, because they’re really not a functional unit yet, that equally get each other, even if they don’t understand each other. So give me the drama of it all. I LOVE that. Give me the petty sibling drama. I live for it. Okay? 

[regolithheart]

what do you think about the Nesta/Cassian/Mor conflict? also looking forward to your fics!!

Hi beautiful, sweet, innocent, Nonnie!!

Thank you for writing to me. Like I said, I could talk about Nessian all day and I am full. of. #thoughts. I could give you a short sweet answer, but it’s week six of quarantine, I had a brownie for dinner, and I don’t know what day it is. In the end, you’ll probably regret asking me, but lets just jump into it, shall we?

Unpopular opinion: I don’t like Rhys, Mor, or Feyre. So if you don’t want to hear what I have to say in regards to them, thanks for stopping by. No need to read further. 

I’ve never loved Feyre, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I just don’t like main characters in a series. Would I have preferred to read Hermione Granger and the Prisoner of Azkaban? You bet your ass. I also don’t like Rhys for the same reason, but also I dislike Rhys more than Feyre and for additional reasons which we will get to later.

I hate that I dislike Mor, because I loved her so much in ACoMaF and for a hot minute I shipped Mor and Azriel because I am a sucker for the unrequited love trope. A real sucker. And maybe, maybe I could have overlooked the retconning of her being a lesbian (yes, it was a retcon. Fight me.), if it weren’t for the fact that it makes her look really really bad and makes her treatment of Azriel even worse. I get it. I do. Her working through being okay with telling the others any of her business is part of her personal journey, but being honest to someone you claim to love about not being able to love them the way they hope to be is different than telling them you can’t be in a relationship because you prefer the opposite sex. Listen, I obviously have thoughts about this, but that’s not what the question was about so I’ll move on. 

Mor and Cassian’s relationship is a dangerous one. They both use each other as a crutch. From day one, Mor was using Cassian. Now, I don’t think she was doing it maliciously, but he appealed to her because he was already one of the most powerful Illyrians and a bastard to boot. Why do you think Mor chose Cassian and not Azriel? Sure, she wanted to own her own body. She wanted to decide who she gets to sleep with, but she decided she wanted to sleep with someone before going to the Autumn Court to stick it to Keir and the establishment. And what better way to stick it to them than to choose an Illyrian bastard. Because being the illegitimate son of an Illyrian lord is still ranked higher than being someone with no father and a dead mother. Mor knew exactly what she was doing when she chose Cassian. She is Rhys’ third-in-command for a reason. She aint no dumdum.

And for 500 years it was all good, right? Mor didn’t care who Cassian hooked up with because she knew they were no threat. But as soon as someone comes along that Cassian has feelings for, like true, legit, feelings, she cannot handle it. Because if she loses Cassian as a buffer then she really will have to be honest with Azriel (the horror). And so what does she do? She gets possessive. She outright hates Nesta and does not hold her feelings or tongue back. Now, some people are going to say that Nesta is the worst. She was horrible to Feyre growing up, she’s rude, she’s belligerent, and she can be a straight up bitch. Yeah. No argument there. We’ve all read the books. We have see the evidence throughout the whole entire series. But so is Rhys, so is Mor, so is Feyre, and Cassian and Amren. The only difference, is that a) they all have each other’s backs while no one has Nesta’s and b) we get to see everyone’s reasons and everyone’s POV except for Nesta’s. Feyre is an unreliable narrator, which is why I’m looking forward to seeing Cassian and Nesta away from Feyre in book 4 because I don’t trust her to tell me what’s going on for realsies. 

Honestly, the scene that made me straight up get so pissed at Mor was in ACoFaS when Nesta shows up to the Solstice party and Elain gives Nesta her present. All of Cassian’s attention is pointed to Nesta and what does Mor do? She forces Cassian to pay attention to her by choosing that exact moment to give him his Solstice present. Not any other time before or after when Cassian barely even glances Nesta’s way, but during the what, five seconds, he’s looking at her? PLEASE! It’s so passive aggressive and I hate it. I hate it!

I think the thing that bothers me the most abut Cassian and Mor’s relationship is that it really is just a miniature version of Cassian’s relationship with the Inner Circle in regards to Nesta. But really, when I say Inner Circle, I mean Rhys. I hate how Rhys treats Nesta, thinks of Nesta, and dismisses Nesta. Does he have his reasons? Sure. Are they valid reasons? He sure thinks they are, but like I said before, he’s no angel and we got to hear his full story so until we get Nesta’s full story then I don’t need my inbox blowing up. And honestly, if it turns out that Nesta really is as bad as everyone thinks she is, that’s still not going to change my opinion of her. I mean, why have you even read this far if you don’t like Nesta? Has anyone read this far, period? 

What I mean to say is that Cassian loves his family. He loves Nesta. The problem is that his family and Nesta don’t love each other and he will always feel torn apart over it. Cassian knows that Rhys hates Nesta. He can barely acknowledge her existence in front of Rhys and Azriel because they barely do. Yeah, his feelings are complicated right now. He’s hurt, and angry, and confused, and still loves her and can’t work out his feelings because he doesn’t have a safe place to do so. If there’s anyone he should feel comfortable going to to work out these feelings with, it’s Rhys, Az, and Mor but he can’t because he knows exactly how they feel about her, which is that they tolerate her at best. And even then, do they? 

I don’t want Cassian to feel like he has to choose between Nesta or his family, but as the situation stands, he probably does feel like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe he’s already chosen his family over Nesta. It’s not like she’s making an argument on her own behalf. But we know Cassian loves Nesta. Even if he’s annoyed with her, or mad, or frustrated with her, we know that he honest-to-the-Mother loves her. But until everyone can heal, and understand one another, and accept each other, it’s a lose-lose situation all around. Notice how I didn’t say love, or even like. 

Do I feel sorry for Cassian? Yes. Do I think he’s entirely faultless? Nope. Yes, he’s in a shitty situation, but honestly if he had a real conversation with Mor (and the Inner Circle) about his feelings about/for Nesta and confront her about her treatment of Nesta, he’d get different results. Do I think he’s terrified of having an actual, honest conversation? You betcha.

And yeah, we all know that Nesta isn’t making the situation any easier. But she’s hurt and suffering more than any of us really know. Do I think she's entirely blameless? Absolutely not. But I do feel that Rhys and Mor are extra judgmental of her because they already have their preconceived notions of her and anything she’s done contrary to that is ignored while everything she does that reiterates it is magnified. But here I am getting derailed again.

Nesta feels unloved. We can argue whether or not it is deserved another time, but the fact is that she feels unloved. Probably has always felt unloved. So every time Cassian choses to look at Mor instead of Nesta, it’s confirmation to her that she will never be anyone’s first choice. Look, the only man who said he loved her turned out to be abusive and assaulted her. And then when her father declares that he loves her, he gets murdered right in front of her eyes. Elain is the only other person Nesta knows loves her, and now she’s chosen Feyre and the Inner Circle over her (at least she has in Nesta’s eyes). You see where I’m going with this, right?

Except for the few dire times during the war--like when they’re legit in battle for their lives and emotions are running high--does Cassian let himself show Nesta that he cares for her. The only other times is when they’re by themselves. We know it’s because Cassian hides behind his bravado. But to Nesta, who probably has the worst opinion of herself, it probably means he’s ashamed to show it. Or he’s uncertain. I know we don’t have proof of this in the text, but I like to think I understand Nesta on a deep level, I can just imagine that’s how she’s feeling. Nesta pushes people away so that she doesn’t get disappointed when they decide to leave on their own accord. Nesta fought for Feyre, she fought for Elain, and she fought for Cassian. And in ACoFaS they all essentially turned their backs on her. And you wonder why she has so much rage in her frozen heart. 

TL;DR (not that I blame you): It’s complicated and it’s messy and everyone involved has contributed to it’s tangled mess of jealousy, insecurity, selfishness... but I also place more responsibility on the two 500-year-olds than I do on the 23-year-old. 

I’m really interested to see how it plays out in the next book(s), but I will tell you right now, I am on team Nesta Archeron and will be until my dying breath. 

Also, if you made it to the end...

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {15}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Sorry it took a few extra hours - the chapter was too short so I had to decide what I wanted to add in from chapter 16! Enjoy~

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” - Stephen Chbosky, the Perks of Being a Wallflower

Cassian couldn't think straight.

That anger, that motherfucking anger, was creeping up on him.

Tomas.

The bastard that sure as hell wasn't good enough for Nesta, was staring at her like she was a piece of meat, a prize to be won. Cassian wanted to hit that look right off his face.

“Aren’t you the guy that moved in across the hall from her?”

He was drinking a beer and had been ignoring Cassian until now.

Cassian gave him a short nod.

“What, you two friends now?” Tomas asked, looking back at Nesta. “I thought you hated him. Said he was annoying as fuck.”

Nesta ignored his question, his comment. She asked, quietly, “Where the hell have you been?”

Cassian stilled. The fact that she still cared made him nauseous. Maybe he was in the wrong, but he thought Nesta had forgotten about Tomas long ago. Thought he had helped her forget about Tomas a long time ago.

“Adriata,” he said, shrugging. “Went along the Coast. Surfed.”

“You just fucking left,” Nesta gritted out. “Without saying anything because I hurt your fucking pride.”

Cassian had taken her home that night, when Tomas had abandoned her at the nightclub. 

“Needed some time away,” he said, simply, and smiled.

Nesta wouldn't look at Cassian.

He had yet to touch his whiskey.

“Did you miss me?” Tomas asked.

Nesta looked at Cassian, then she turned her back to them both.

He couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, didn't want to know what was going through her mind. If he knew, his anger would only grow.

He kept watching Tomas.

“What time do you get off?” Tomas asked, continuing his interrogation. 

“Late,” Nesta answered.

“I’ll wait,” he said, grinning.

Nesta looked over her shoulder at him, then at Cassian. Her eyes were hard, unreadable. She didn’t tell him to fuck off, didn’t tell him to go to hell. Instead, she said, “I’m on break. Be back in five.”

She left, leaving Cassian to stare, dumbfounded, after her. Before Tomas could say anything more, Cassian tossed some cash next to his untouched drink and made his way into the alley, where Nesta was standing, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette. 

Unsurprised by him storming in, Nesta didn’t bother to look up at him as he stopped in front of her. 

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice monotone. 

Cassian shook his head. Maybe he’d gotten everything all wrong, read the signs all wrong. All the time they had spent together the last few weeks - maybe it was just for sex, something to fill the void for her after Tomas left.

Maybe now that he was back, she had no need for Cassian anymore.

He raked a hand through his hair, calming himself. “Are you coming over when you get off?”

Nesta looked tired. “I don’t know.”

“Because Tomas will be waiting for you?” he asked, before he could think twice about it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Cass.”

He shook his head, laughing, humorlessly. “What am I to you?”

She didn’t answer. 

“I asked you a question,” he said, voice low. 

Nesta blew smoke into his face. “I don’t owe you an answer, so fuck off.” 

Cassian took a step back, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. “Alright. Fine.”

He started walking away, back toward the sidewalk, where he stopped. “I’ll leave my door open, when you get off. If you don’t show up, I’ll take the hint.”

Nesta said nothing.

Cassian walked away. 

He found his bike, the one he’d finished that morning, near the other side of the building before strapping on his helmet and speeding away. 

That anger, that fucking anger, crept into his mind, into his soul, and he couldn’t control it. They were doing so well, getting along so perfectly, until that fucker waltzed in, pretending like nothing ever happened. Cassian remembered the first day he’d met Nesta, when Tomas was there, and she was a fucking mess. High on Mother-knows-what, hungover, depressed. Now he was back, and Nesta shut down, pretended like Cassian no longer existed. And he had thought that things had changed, that she and him were starting to…

Unimportant.

It was unimportant, didn’t matter anymore.

Maybe she was just surprised, thrown off by Tomas’s unexpected presence.

Cassian tried to push the anger away.

He would go home and do what he said he would - leave the door unlocked, wait like a pathetic jackass who felt too strongly for a woman like Nesta Archeron. 

So that’s what he did.

And just after midnight, he heard low voices outside of his apartment. Drunk on whiskey, he opened his door, and found Tomas stumbling into Nesta’s apartment.

He met Nesta’s gaze, but it was like looking into a never ending abyss. Empty. Dead. An endless void.

She watched him, though. Watched his eyes go wide, then harden. Watched his jaw lock as he shook his head. “Hint taken,” he slurred. “Fuck you, N-Nesta.” 

She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t act like the words affected her at all. But she watched him, those empty, stormy blue eyes - watched as he took a step back and slammed his door shut.

That anger returned, rising at an uncontrollable speed. 

He threw his glass, still holding a thin layer of whiskey, against the wall in his living room, where it exploded into shards of glass, dark, caramel colored liquid raining down the ivory wall. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, and Bryaxis was instantly up from his bed, following his master down the hall.

Cassian stomped into his bedroom and tossed himself onto his mattress where Bryaxis instantly was, knowing his father was having an episode, knowing he couldn’t control the anger, that hated anger. 

The pup pulled himself over Cassian’s abdomen, laying his chin on Cassian’s chest, paws outstretched. Cassian closed his eyes, told himself to breathe. 

That anger lingered, even as he calmed, but Cassian told himself that it was all his fault.

He had started to fall in love with her.

And no good ever came from falling for a woman like Nesta Archeron.

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to his bed creaking, just after midnight.

Feyre had hurried out of the room, down the hall. He heard the bathroom door shut.

He picked up his phone off the nightstand and opened his messages, where he had missed five texts after falling asleep early. 

Three were from Cassian.

Feyre’s sister is a bitch.

Whiskey is good. I like whiskey.

Where the fuck are you and Az you little lovesick fuckers.

Rhys made a mental, uncertain note to give Cassian a call in the morning.

The next text was from Azriel. It was a picture of Mila, who was wearing the new pink Batman pajamas Rhysand had ordered her online. Beneath the picture read, Mila has been jumping across all the furniture all night, pretending to be Batgirl. At one point, she body slammed me. It was all fun and games until I got kneed in the balls.

Rhysand huffed a laugh, pulling up the last text that was from an unsaved number. Your ring is in. You can pick it up at your earliest convenience. 

He quickly deleted the message as Feyre swept back into the room, bare body outlined in the dark, starlit room.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s okay,” he said, watching her climb across the bed to him. “Cassian was having a drunken, mental breakdown, it seems.” 

He put his phone back on the nightstand as she asked, “Because of Nesta?” 

“Seems so,” Rhysand muttered, as Feyre fell back against the pillows. He climbed over her body, and her arms wrapped around his waist. “Who knows.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I won’t be getting in the middle of that mess.”

Rhysand chuckled, kissing her, softly. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Yeah,” she whispered, hands wandering down to his ass. “Sleep.” 

“You’re going to be tired for work in the morning,” he murmured. 

Feyre huffed a laugh, pushing his wild hair off of his forehead. “I’m okay with that.”

With a grin, Rhysand pressed his mouth to Feyre’s, his tongue sliding between her lips to brush alongside her own. 

One last night of peace, one last night before Rhysand woke up the next morning, kissed Feyre goodbye, and got ready for himself to leave the house. Because after Feyre left in the morning, he would be going to see Tamlin. 

And, it seems, he had a ring to pick up.

~~~~~

“It’s getting late,” Elain whispered, glancing at the clock. 

“Yeah,” Azriel agreed, quietly.

They had been lying awake for hours, talking about everything and nothing and all things in between. Now, he could see the exhaustion sweeping over her.

“Get some sleep,” he said, smiling.

But Elain didn’t smile back. Her palm rested against his cheek, her thumb brushing over his open lips. Azriel’s own smile faded at her touch. 

“Kiss me,” she whispered. 

Azriel didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned in closer, pulled her to him by her waist, and pressed his lips against hers. Elain fell back against his bed, and he hovered over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

Her delicate hands swept down his back, under the hem of his shirt. Her hands were warm against his skin as they crept up. Chills swept down his spine. 

Elain tugged at the fabric, and Azriel leaned back, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the floor.

Elain pushed against his chest, a silent plea for him to lay down, and when he did, she straddled his waist. Those delicate fingers trailed over his chest, his abdomen. Her brown eyes were bright as slipped off her sweatshirt, and her tanktop. 

“Elain,” Azriel hesitated, his entire body reacting beneath her. “We don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she said, laughing quietly. She took his hands and put them against her body. Azriel’s hands swept up her stomach, to her breasts. His fingers brushed over the outline of her bra, careful not to catch the lace on his rough, calloused fingertips. She leaned down into him, lips crashing into lips.

Azriel had been so patient. Had taken things slow.

It was easy to take things slow with Elain. She was easy to talk to, easy to be gentle with. But in that moment, Azriel was done being gentle. His body ached for anything but gentleness. 

He unhooked her bra, and she let him slide it down her arms and palm her breasts. Azriel flipped her onto her back, smile bright as she looked up at him. Azriel pressed his lips, softly, against her abdomen, and she held onto the back of his head as those feather-like kisses trailed up, tongue sweeping over her nipples, lips finding the base of her neck. 

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut as she breathed, heavily, as she inched down Azriel’s shorts with her fingertips.

A soft growl escaped him as his lips found hers, once again. 

“Elain.” He whispered her name between the whirlwind of kisses, but was unable to say anything more, because a loud knock came to his bedroom door. 

“Uncle Az!” Mila’s little voice came through the door.

Azriel froze, then sighed, his head falling against her chest, between her breasts. Elain, unable to help herself, laughed quietly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

With a groan, Azriel pulled himself off of her and hopped off the bed, pulling his shorts back up to his hips. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, smiling fondly as she pulled his blanket up over her body. 

Azriel stopped at the door, trying to collect himself as Mila knocked, again. 

“Okay,” he breathed, and opened his bedroom door to find a teary-eyed four year old, clutching her blanket. 

He frowned, shutting his door quietly behind him. “What’s wrong?”

She reached her arms up, and Azriel gathered her into his arms as he carried her back into her room. 

She laid her messy-haired head against his shoulder. 

“Bad dream,” she said, yawning, as Azriel sat on the edge of her bed with her on his lap. “Those men took mama away and she was crying.”

Azriel blew out a long, slow breath. It was impossible, trying to find a way to tell Mila what was happening without telling her that her mom was a horrible woman. Yes, he hated Amarantha, but he wouldn’t let his view of Amarantha cloud Mila’s. 

“It was just a dream,” he said, quietly. “Your mama is okay in there. And she loves you and she misses you, okay?”

Mila yawned, nodding, slowly.

“Let’s get you back to sleep,” Azriel murmured, laying Mila down and tucking her in tight. “Don’t want to be tired for preschool in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you,” Mila said, eyes already closed. He patted her back, gently, until her breathing evened out; then, he backed out of her room, slowly and quietly, until he was back across the hall, sneaking into his own bedroom.

Where Elain was sound asleep.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, laying down on the other side of his bed.

It took him a longass time to fall asleep.

And when morning came, and he stumbled into the kitchen, Mor was already sitting at the table, grinning with a cup of coffee. 

“May I help you?” he mumbled, pulling open the fridge for some orange juice.

“Took you a long time to open your door for Mila in the middle of the night,” she said, sipping from her mug. 

Azriel shut the door and spun around, exasperated. “You were awake? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mor shrugged. “She wanted you, not me. Now, what did she interrupt?”

“Nothing,” Azriel muttered. “Didn’t have a chance to….nevermind. I’ve got to run to the store to get a few things before I head to Elain’s dad’s to finish up. Mind taking Mila to school for me?”

“I’d be honored,” she said, winking. 

Azriel took the orange juice into his bedroom and got dressed. He had pulled on a hat over his messy hair when Elain woke up.

She smiled sleepily at him.

“Good morning,” he said, quietly.

“Good morning,” she repeated. “Sorry about last night.”

Azriel smiled. “Don’t be. It was late. I’ll be done around noon. Can I come get you for your lunch?” 

“Please do,” she smiled, and he kissed her forehead before walking out.

Mor’s grin followed him until he was out the door.

~~~~~

After Feyre left, Rhysand had run to Tamlin’s office, but he wasn’t in, yet, and wouldn’t be until ten. So, he drove down the strip until he came upon a little, local jewelry shop. 

He was welcomed by the owner, an elderly man, who was smiling broadly behind the counter.

“I see you got my message.”

Rhysand smiled. “Couldn’t wait. Can I see it?”

The owner went to the back of the shop and came back with a little black velvet box. He handed it to Rhysand, who opened it with shaking fingers.

It was perfect. 

Simple, he couldn’t afford too much, but he knew she would like it. A thin, rose gold band with a small, pear-shaped diamond. 

“I can make the first payment today,” Rhysand said, closing the lid. “I can take it with me today, though, right? Even if it’s not paid in full?”

“Of course,” the man smiled.

Rhysand slipped the ring into his pocket before making his payment, thanking the owner, and leaving. He wasn’t sure when he’d ask, but he figured he would know when the moment felt right.

All he knew was that he was in love with Feyre. He had always been in love with Feyre. There was no one else he would want to ask to spend the rest of his life with him.

As he got into his car, he pushed the idea into the back of his mind and put the ring into his glove box. 

At nearly ten, he was driving back down the strip, until he was parked in front of Tamlin’s father’s building, where Tamlin got a job for simply being his father’s son. 

Rhysand didn’t wait. He got out of his car and walked into the building, heading straight for the elevators. 

He rode up to the twelfth floor, where the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “I told Mr. Lewis you stopped by. He said to send you in when you come back.”

Rhysand nodded his thanks and went through the winding halls until he was in front of Tamlin’s office door. He didn’t bother knocking.

Tamlin looked up, one brow raised, as Rhysand entered and sat in one of the armchairs on the other side of his desk.

For a moment, neither of them talked.

“Gad to see you’re healing,” Tamlin said, with a small, snarky smile. “Not surprised to see you coming to my office. Can’t get your ass kicked here.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I came here to talk to you like a fucking man. We’re not in high school, Tamlin. I’m not like you. I don’t go around looking for trouble like a fucked up teenager.”

Tamlin’s pride wasn’t hurt. That smile remained as he cocked his head. “I liked when Feyre came to my apartment the other day. How very chivalrous of her. Reminded me of simpler times, when she warmed my bed, not yours.”

“Don’t talk to me about Feyre,” Rhysand said, trying not to let the words bother him. “It’s sad, really, how your need to make her miserable has come this far.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “I love her. All I do is for her.”

“That’s bullshit,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “Feyre loves me, and you cannot stand that you lost her. When, in reality, it’s all your fault. You pushed her away with your pride, your incessant need  to be in charge of everything, her included. And now that she’s finally happy, you can’t stand it. Because it’s me, the person you hate the most, who is making her happy.”

Tamlin didn’t move. He watched Rhysand with a deadly calm, one that Rhys matched as he propped his elbows on the armrests and leaned forward. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Rhysand went on. “I never was, and I never will be, but Feyre doesn’t deserve to live with you constantly looming over her shoulder, so you will back the fuck off.”

Tamlin, to Rhysand’s surprise, grinned. “She’ll come back to me, no matter what I do. She was with me for almost a decade. She’s with you now because you were around, and she was lonely.”

The words struck a nerve as Rhysand’s worst nightmare was voiced by his greatest foe. 

But he didn’t let it show. “Will you still be saying that when Feyre becomes my wife? Because she will. Soon. I’ve got a ring, I plan to propose, and you’ll be the first person I tell when she says yes.” 

Tamlin was up from his desk and storming around the corner where Rhysand met him, on his feet. 

“Ask her to marry you and you’ll be looking worse on your wedding day than you do right now,” Tamlin spat.

He jabbed Rhysand in his broken ribs, and the pain was excruciating, but Rhysand was ready, this time. Rhysand elbowed Tamlin in the jaw before pushing him back onto his desk and holding him down by his throat. His laptop fell off, along with a giant stack of - what Rhysand assumed - important documents. 

“You’ll leave us alone,” Rhysand said, gritting through the pain that shot through his body. “You forget that I know you, Tamlin, that I’ve known you for your entire life. If you want to keep the glamorous life you have, your dad’s money, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. If you ever cared for Feyre, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. And, if you don’t, I will personally destroy you. So leave us. The fuck. Alone.”

Rhysand slammed Tamlin’s head back into his desk one last time, for good measure, before storming out.

Tamlin didn’t come after him.

~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[thehonestreader]

A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab

Rating: B-

For the original review click here.

Centuries ago the doors were sealed between the worlds, trapping Black London, bleeding White London dry, Red London thriving, and Grey London losing what magic they had. Yet the actions of one man has thrown the worlds out of balance. Holland agreed to take Osaron from Black London, agreed to let him into his body, because all he wanted was to see his home be saved. But Osaron wants more, and he’s found his way into Kell’s London. Now he’s doing the same thing that he did to his London: infecting the people with his twisted magic and making them serve him as their king. Only Antari and their blood seem to do any damage, but even Kell, Lila, and Holland working together isn’t even close to enough to stop him. With the citizens of London dying around them, they set out to find the one thing in Kell’s world that could give them the power to overcome. But as with most things, it comes with a cost. 

--

Oh boy, this book didn’t fair as well as the others in this second read-through, did it?

I only realized right now that I failed to mentioned the extra little stories that have been included at the end of these collector’s editions. Probably because up until this book I didn’t find myself being captivated by them, and because they never gave me anything I was looking for. The short story included in A Conjuring of Light does all those things. It’s the tiniest little smidgen about Kell’s life before he was taken in by the Crown, and I happily devoured it. He may not want to know about his past, but I sure as hell do.

It’s been three years since I read this series, and I still feel like Emira’s parts are a waste, maybe even more now. She’s a character I’ve always been a bit meh about, and while I can see what the author was trying to do here, I don’t think it works. I see her as cold and aloof, and there’s not enough here that makes me change my mind about how I already feel and forces me to care about her. However, I don’t feel the same about Maxim, but I honestly can’t tell if it’s because I’m reading The Steel Prince right now or not. It’s hard to separate what I’m learning about him from that and what I learned about him in past books that makes me find him more compelling. Out of the two of them, he’s definitely the more complex character to begin with, which inherently makes him more interesting.

I also just never realized how stupidly frustrating the characters are this time around. Lila, oh, Lila. I hate you, I like you, until I hate you again. Guess it’s time to talk about my feelings toward our second main character here, that being one Miss Delilah Bard, who makes me want to scream. I can’t remember how I felt about Lila the first time I read this, but from the moment she used Vitari in book one I found myself being annoyed by her. And this isn’t a last book problem, this is an every book problem that I really didn’t want to tackle until I got here. I can’t say I’m a huge fan of her character. She’s stubborn, but in all the worst ways. She refuses to learn from her mistakes, constantly doing things that are reckless and that put her in danger for no other reason than she wants to. This also applies to Rhy in this book, who does the dumbest shit toward the end, but it’s more for plot than anything else. It’s a moment that’s very revealing and peels back the curtain on the writing process. Because Schwab had to create a situation where Kell would need to rush back to London, and what better situation than knowing that Rhy is in danger. However, there’s no real reason why Rhy does this, there’s no goal he’s going out to accomplish like Maxim; it’s only there to move the story along and get characters where they need to be. (There’s also a plot hole where Kell can’t travel directly off the ship their traveling on, which doesn’t make sense when we know that he has done this at least two times before, but I don’t feel like picking that apart.)

On to better things, I suppose Holland somewhat gets his Zuko redemption arc. I was probably asking too much hoping that he could lower his guard enough to become grudging friends with Kell. I wanted the Gaang, but I’m happy with what I got. I’ve said this in every review I’ve written for this series, but I think Holland is probably the most interesting side character that exists in these books, hands down.

The pacing is done pretty well too, where the slower parts don’t drag and the action parts are exciting but not too quick. So much story is packed into this one book that I forgot once in a while that something had happened in the beginning of this book, not the previous one. I never found myself being bored or wishing things would move along. If anything I had a terrible sense of dread because I knew where things were going and I was scared to get there. Let’s just say some characters I’m fond of die, and you know what, it still hurts even now.

I’m so desperate for a new adventure in this world. I know V.E. Schwab is writing another series involving Kell and I want it. Now. Right now. But I guess I’ll just have to tide myself over with the graphic novels.

-Review by C.M.

[drneilfox]

Paul McCartney Weeping: Music Films Book Blog 1 (October 2020)

Let’s get the negative out of the way. I’m behind.

It’s not Heaven’s Gate bad. I’m not a month behind after one day but I didn’t get the 8000 words I wanted by the 31st October deadline. What I have got. I like.

The more positive news is what I’ve learned. The first month of serious writing has shown me when in the month I need to start getting some writing done but also, and I guess more importantly, my capacity to do other things on top of the book (+family, and podcast, and teaching).

This month I took on two extra writing assignments, which took a toll on the book progress. They were connected. One was an interview, part of which will feature in the book, and one was my now annual preview of the Doc N Roll film festival, so all of my watching (I saw 8 new docs for that piece) and thinking and chatting was music doc related at least. I also watched one non-chapter music doc for my weekly Kino Klub with students. I approached all viewings as though they were for the book, making the same kinds of notes as I went. He tells himself.

The most positive aspects were how much I enjoyed it all, the watching and rewatching and the writing, and also how quickly the writing came. It’s encouraging. I’ve lived with this project so long that I have it all in there somewhere, I’m just pulling it out and making it all fit.

I also feel good, though it’s early days, about how much I won’t be able to say with this book. I am ok with that. I really see this as the first of what may be a lifetime body of work, should I live to complete this work and add to it.

I’ve also decided that all interviews moving forward, will be collected for a podcast series to be released alongside the release of the book. That way I hope it won’t feel like I’m wasting anyone’s time if I can’t get many of their words and thoughts on to the page.

I have my first interviews, save the one I squeezed in and more about that in coming months, lined up over the next couple of weeks and this week I email out about some more. So far everyone has been really responsive (in a lot of cases I think maybe a bit bemused that I want to talk to them for a book like this, which excites me about its focus) and all the interviews coming up are with people I haven’t talked to before (including one of my musical heroes!). This feels like a project which will expand my universe and lead to many memorable interactions.

I have been writing about Wales this month, which led me back to an early piece I wrote, for Directors Notes, on the release of Dylan Goch and Gruff Rhys’s American Interior in 2014. I share that piece here for you. Maybe it’s a clue as to one of the interviews I’m going to be doing.

I’ve started compiling a playlist, because why not?, of a song from or by a musician featured in each film I (re)watch. Watch it grow and listen along here.

You see what I am (re)watching, in order, here as well.

I also thought I’d share (for me as much as anyone else) what I have been listening to while writing this month (and a bit of September when I was working on this interview piece for The Quietus , some of which will also feature in the book).

Other highlights and things to note - since the announcement, two filmmakers have reached out about (that I didn’t know I should add) and I’ll be talking to both after rewatching their films in the coming month.

Also, I had a lovely surprise watching Michael Cumming and Stewart Lee’s King Rocker and seeing my name in the thank yous at the end credits, for my interview with the pair last year at Sea Change festival. That was a really humbling moment. I interviewed them both again this month ahead of the film’s release, now pushed back to the spring, again for the Quietus.

Finally, a bit of fun. Here are my favourite notes from this month’s viewing sessions:

Paul McCartney Weeps.

Nicky definitely says Harlech beach.

Larbi Batma sporting a nice white Fred Perry polo.

“What annoys me is that your tyrant sleeps”.

“Because they’re a bunch of fucking cunts”.

“The work is everything”.

Welsh Crazy Horse.

“Wherever we are, we are”.

Heavy Metal upsets the cows.

“Anything suffixed by the word metal”.

“Stolen?”. “Yeah”.

Canvey is England’s Lourdes (Graffiti).

“I accidentally moved to London for six months once”.

Brian Jones. Frilly cuffs.

Saint Etienne are…

“People of the Language”.

Media gang bang.

“I’ll entertain you and what you like will stick”.

Dogs!

Moped riding rebel musicians.

“Music just being about listening is all wrong”.

Utter confusion over the tea order.

[msjr0119]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @annekebbphotography and @dangerouseggseagleartisan 😘😘😘

Since my hangover with Paige from the weekend I’ve been very quiet- but I have been working on a lot of things 🙌🏼

Tagging all combined tag lists- if you want to join in with the WIP Weds 🙌🏼

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @beardedoafdonutwagon @jared2612 @princess-geek @custaroonie @lauradowning29

*****

Too drunk to function- One shot based on mine and Paige’s antics (this is so embarrassing)

Willow- Paige 🤣

Freya- Milissa 🤢

Willow escorted Freya over to the toilets. Freya wobbled towards the queue that was lingering outside the bathroom. Swaying over the place, she felt the urge to be sick- slightly regretting all the pre drinking prior to going to Rosie’s club. Placing her hand over her mouth- she attempted to hold the sick down at least until she got into the cubicle.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine.” As Freya responded sick slipped through her fingers. The woman in front of the girls turned around looking disgusted at the two drunks.

“Just run past them and be sick in the sink.” Willow suggested- in Freya’s mind this was the best suggestion her friend could have thought off. Rushing past the women in the queue in front, Freya threw her head over the sink- sick full of a fusion of alcohol splattered everywhere. Lifting her head up- she wiped her mouth with her hand, and walked out towards Willow who couldn’t stop laughing.

******

What took you so long? (Posting tomorrow morning)

In the rush Riley lost Drake, the guards escorted them outside- organising them into groups. Riley wanted to go back inside to find her fiancé. Sneaking away, some arms went around her- feeling relieved she hoped it was Drake. Covering her mouth the man escorted her abruptly into the palace grounds.

*****

Love, Fate, Destiny (posting tomorrow)

Allowing the luke warm water to flow down her body, her thoughts remained on what her future would be. Drake had her initials tattooed on his wedding finger, he wore a fake wedding ring to prevent girls hitting on him. Could she go back to Cordonia, facing Kiara and Madeleine. Would Kiara always use the pregnancy card against Riley. When she first met Drake, he was in a relationship with her best friend- deep down she fantasied about him. When they became a couple, losing her virginity to him, the in between moments they shared made her believe in true love. When he abruptly left without a goodbye it broke her heart. Seeing him in the bar all those years later, she thought about their future again. Then she left, all because he lied to her to prevent hurt. They needed their heads banging together. It’s in the past. Look towards the future.

*****

One Temptation (hopefully posting soon)

Drake and Maxwell got ready for their afternoon with Liam. The bachelor knocked on the door, both men looked sheepish as Liam broke down crying.

“Li, what’s up?”

“I’ve lost her for good haven’t I? She slept with you Drake. I’m not annoyed, I can’t blame you. It was all my fault. I need to tell you both something.”

“Liam I’m so sorry. It just happened. I won’t go near her again.”

“I have a daughter. Myself and Madeleine have a daughter. We conceived her the night I cheated on Riley.”

“And you’re telling us this now? How did you keep that a secret?”

“Money buys you things. A nanny. Drake do you like her?”

“I... I think she’s beautiful Liam, I can’t deny that. But I won’t go near her again. I promise.”

“Hang on, she’s single -you’re single. No offence, Liam.” Maxwell couldn’t believe that he would be playing piggy in the middle.

“I’m single too. I’m risking losing my daughter. But I’m winning her back. If you want to fight for her Drake we will.”

“You’re not fighting over her! She’s not some prized possession you can fling away when you get bored Liam.” Maxwell was getting frustrated with Liam- deep down he was thrilled that Riley had come back home, but in a way he wished she had stayed away.

“Liam she was yours. I’m not getting involved in hurting anyone’s feelings.”

“So fucking her, then not willing to fight for her - you’d be hurting her.”

“It was a one night stand Liam! I doubt she even likes me more than that! If she did, you should let her go.”

“I’m not losing her again! Money buys you happiness. And I’m getting my girl back.”

******

Hold my girl

The gang looked at each other , confusion written over each of their faces. Daniel continued.

“This is Grace and Paul. They were sadly taken away from us 8years ago. Myself and Freya used to come here all the time- but especially on one date. On that date, Freya would write a diary and explain everything that they are missing... myself and Freya came here before when she left you all this afternoon...”

As Daniel continues speaking, Liam and Drake bent down and looked at the grave closely.

“Grace and Paul Johnson.” Drake turned to Liam as he said it.

“Her parents..” They both said in unison as they looked concerned, they stood back up and continued to listen to Daniel.

“... anyway, she finally came here and updated her diary. I can’t believe what all of you have been through- it’s like you’re all staring in reality tv.” Daniel jokingly said to them all. The were like Aliens - not understanding exactly what reality tv was.

Daniel pointed to the diary and read it out to them all. Afterwards he pointed over to each of the photos.

“I hope y’all don’t mind but she put some pictures of her journey with you all and wrote something about each of you. Maybe if you all read them she... she cares for you all. And trust me, she is stubborn so for her to care about so many people is amazing.”

They each picked up their picture with the note attached, they read it out loud to the other friends. Liam began..

*****

Marshgate Prison

Drake pushed his way through the crowd to Riley laying on the floor, her hands holding her stomach- her beautiful skin now painted in a red glossy liquid, her own blood.

“Someone get some help now!” Drake pleaded, the guards stood frozen explaining that help was on its way. Liam also injured due to the unexpected attack due to the riot.

“Riley you need to survive... open those beautiful eyes... please....” Cupping her cheeks, he couldn’t lose her- not now. He had found someone who understood him, someone who possibly could love him. Slowly fluttering her eyes open, he saw the tear creep out of the corner of her eye.

“D-Drake....” She barely said, using potentially her last breath to say his name.

“I’m here, I’m coming to hospital with you- whether they stop me or not. I’ll break out, just so I can be with you.”

“No.... you.... can’t.... Bartie...”

“Riley you mean so much to me as well as Bartie. Don’t you dare leave me.”

Using all the strength she had, she pulled him down- placing a longing kiss on his lips.

“Love you Walker.” The paramedics arrived, quickly rushing Riley and Liam out of the room. Drake forced the guards off him, falling to the floor- he was surrounded by tears he never thought he would ever shed.

*******

Cordonian Wags (getting posted soon!)

“Mr Rhys, you have gone through all the suspects- with Madeleine as an extra one to the scenario. It was reported that there was another two suspects who had covered their identity up- did you have anybody else visit you during those times?”

Constantine thought back to the other two visitors who had visited him last. Knowing full well that Bastien was the person who had spiked his drink. Bastien who had been loyal to him throughout all the time they had known each other. He understood his reasoning behind it- he had a duty to look after the Brooks sisters, his goddaughters. But he would never trust him again.

*****

Forgive me

“Liam, as much as I’m happy that you’re home... I need to tell you something....” Liam kissed the sensitive part of her neck, ignoring the seriousness in her tone of voice- selfishly just wanting her all to himself. He had missed her immensely- grateful that she was in his life.

“You can tell me after. Right now, I want you- all of you. I’ve missed you so much Riley.”

“Liam please!”

“Have you missed me?”

“Of course I have. But .... but.... please don’t kiss my neck and earlobe ... this is really important....”

“Go on....”

“We are all in danger. Leo was murdered- by Justin- our new press secretary.”

[your-high-lady]

Realisation

Disclaimer: I don't anything except for the plot. All credit goes towards Sarah J Mass.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Oh Feyre.

"Fuck. Fuck. Shit!" I immediately looked up and around when I practically shouted that, but thankfully no one was around and I couldn't hear any footsteps either. I sighed in relief before reluctantly looking back down at my drawing.

I'd drawn Rhys. I'd drawn him. Rhys!

"Oh for god's sake!" My hand dashed up to the top of the page and I began to tear the page out. But then I stopped.

For the first time since I'd opened my eyes, I actually saw what I'd drawn. It was the profile of Rhys's face. His arrogant smirk was there too, presumably because that was the most worn expression on his face and it was how my mind remembered him. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. Or, more specifically, the lines under his eyes which were paired with sadness in the eyes themselves. Lines and sadness caused by days and days of stress—and maybe crying, too—sat right under his eyes. Though his smile was wide, lifting his sharp cheekbones and making him look very handsome, the anguish was there. I suspected no one would have even noticed unless they looked closely enough.

I instantly wondered then why I had noticed the lines. It's not like I was looking closely, right? Right?

Right, yeah, totally.

Damn me.

—

Saturday.

It was finally here. I woke up this morning feeling unusually energetic and happy. In fact, I was feeling so buoyant I decided to make blueberry pancakes. Once Mor had woken up, I sat her down at the small round table we were using as a dining table and made more pancakes as she ate them. At least four huuuuge pancakes later, I finally heard a groan from behind me, and I turned around to find Mor shaking her head at me, her hands held over her stomach. I chuckled at her and nodded in understanding. Mor gave me hug from behind and went into her bedroom, while I made myself some more pancakes before turning the stove off and settling down into my own seat to have my own breakfast. I'd just had a couple of bites before Mor came out dressed in her gym clothes. As she put her trainers on, she said, "Thank you so much for those pancakes but this body isn't this good on its own." I laughed and waved her on as she gave me a flying kiss and exited out of the front door to go on her daily run. I assumed she would be out longer today so that she could burn off the extra fat. Once I'd washed all the dishes I decided to go into my room and just do some drawing and maybe some colouring too before I started cleaning the whole house.

It only took me about ten minutes to lose myself in my drawing, and then another thirty to realise what exactly I had done. In the forty or so minutes I'd been drawing, I'd done three sketches, and was now in the middle of colouring the second. Looking at the page beneath my fingers, I found Rhys's eyes staring back at me. It was a bit disorienting because one of his eyes was only half done and none of them had the silver flecks but still. Anyone who knew Rhys would know these are his eyes.

But would they see the sadness in them, I wondered. Because I could still see it. But beneath the sadness was also beauty. True, natural beauty caused by years of laughing and smiling and happiness. What could've happened to him, that caused that beauty to be overridden by such subtle grief? Were his arrogance and attitude also another result of what had happened to him? If anything happened to him. Maybe he was just like that. Sad, snobby, annoying.

But the beauty. It was so stunningly breath-taking and unique. I'd never seen anything like it and all that did for me was make Rhys's eyes even more special. I knew what I'd drawn was nothing compared to his real eyes. I still remembered them as if they were branded to the inside of my eyelids and every time I blinked or closed my eyes, they would flash before my eyes.

His eyes were singular. They couldn't be recreated. It was physically impossible.

Hearing a shout outside my window, I jumped before looking outside to find two teenagers throwing water balloons at each other, screaming with excitement. Shaking my head as I turned away from the window, I realised where my thoughts had been going, and immediately ripped the page out of my book, balled the paper up and chucked it into the dustbin in the back corner of my room. I stared at the bin for three very long seconds before jumping out my bed and fetching the paper-ball out of the bin. I unravelled the paper and tried flattening it out on the wall, before giving up and just sliding it into the thickest of my school workbooks. I snatched up my wireless headphones from my desk and turned up the music so loud that I couldn't hear my own thoughts, which were all about sharp cheekbones, arrogant smirks and bright purple eyes, and started cleaning the house.

—

I'd just turned the vacuum off when I heard the front door open and close. Mor came in with a shopping bag in her hands, and when she caught me looking at them curiously, she smirked and wriggled her eyebrows around in a cheeky way before heading off into the kitchen. Her voice trailed behind her, "Go have a bath Feyre, you stink. I'm gonna make you the best chicken wrap you'll ever have." And just as those last few words escaped her mouth, I heard a thud which was promptly followed by Mor's cursing. Shaking my head, a light chuckle escaping my lips, I put the vacuum away before heading into the bathroom and using the hot water to calm my nerves, which had instantly come back when I'd turned the music off. I guessed it was only going to work as a temporary distraction. Well, that sucks.

—

Groaning, I quickly swallowed my bite and turned to Mor. "These are amazing, Mor. How did you make these?" It was around two in the evening right now, and we had settled in to watch a movie, while we ate the "best chicken wrap that will ever reach your lips." I'd given her a strange look when she said those words, but she'd just given me the finger and set off to put it all together. And needless to say, I was surprised. Very surprised. She gave me a wide smile and said, "You like it?"

"Yeah, I like it." I scoffed. "How the heck did you make these?" But, being the annoying ass she is, she just smiled even wider and shook her head, turning back to watch the TV screen. I huffed in annoyingness but accepted the fact that I'll never be able to make these wraps on my own. Soon I was engrossed into the movie and lost track of time.

—

We were running late. Rhys would come to pick us up at seven so that gave us about forty-five minutes to get ready. We quickly took turns in the shower, did our makeup and everything, and chose our dresses, with Mor helping me a little in those last couple departments.

Sighing, I looked at myself in the mirror. Mor was scrambling around the room trying to find her shoes, but it was easy to ignore her. Bringing my eyes back to my reflection, I ran my eyes over my outfit. Grey, plain except for simple thin lines running up and down and side to side, wide pants paired with a light blue sweater. The knitting was beautiful, the simple swirls and patterns a part of the knitting. I was warm and covered. The outfit did nothing for my figure; I liked it that way. I didn't want anyone to notice me.

But you want Rhys to notice you. I cursed at that small voice in the back of my head, shoving it even further away. I hated that part of my brain. I didn't want anyone to notice me. I didn't want to date. I didn't want to kiss anyone. I didn't want to be in any relationship with anyone except for Mor and my family, and that was only because I knew they would never betray or hurt me. But Rhys, Cassian and Azriel. Though all them seemed really nice—Rhys, less than the other two—I couldn't bring myself to trust any of them completely, no matter how safe or happy or even how hot they made me feel. I didn't want that. Not now, not ever. Not after him.

My thoughts made the anger came back. Ever time I thought of him or what happened that night, my blood boiled with anger. How dare Tamlin give Dagdan, or anyone for that matter, the permission to take me away? As if I were an object, something to play with. I was not something to be played with. I would not ever be played with again. I decided that, at that moment, as I stared at myself in the mirror.

The doorbell fell rang, and I opened the door. Rhys, who had knocked on the door, nodded at me in greeting. I nodded back, swallowing back my thoughts about all the sketches and drawings I'd done of him. As I locked the door behind Mor and me, she got into the car. I noticed Cassian, Azriel and another woman, who Azriel later introduced as Amren, were already sitting in the car. Cassian was right at the back, with Azriel and Amren in the middle row and now Mor had just joined them…which left the front seat empty. The passenger seat next to Rhys.

I got butterflies in my stomach as I forced myself to keep my face straight as Rhys opened the door for me. I noticed his hands come up but thankfully they went back down without touching me. He probably didn't want a repeat of our first handshake. Once I was settled in, Rhys headed over to the other side and soon we were off. I didn't know how long the drive was, but I could hear Cassian, Azriel and Mor conversing not so quietly between themselves. I didn't particularly feel like talking to Rhys, so I turned around to look at Amren, who was gazing out her window. "So, Amren. Tell me a little about yourself." I said, a small smile lifting my lips. Her head turned to look at me and I sucked in a small breath, surprised—and honestly, intimidated, too—by her molten silver eyes. In the light coming from outside, I could see that Amren was thin with shoulder-length black hair that gleamed in the light. She was pretty, but unlike Mor and her friends, her face bordered on plain. While I found Mor's friends intimidating because of their beauty, Amren intimated me with her… aura. Though I didn't really want to think that about Amren, she kinda terrified me.

But then she smiled, and instantly I felt a whole lot more comfortable in her presence. "I'm majoring in law. I'm finding it really fun, so far. I really hope I can get somewhere with that. But I'm sure you don't care about that. Have you ever tried cheerleading? It's sooooo much fun. You should really try it…" And just like that, I spent the next fifteen or so minutes of the drive talking with Amren and getting to know her really well. Just as Amren was about to tell me a funny story about her boyfriend, Varian, Mor shouted, "Karaoke! We need to do karaoke!" Immediately Cassian and Azriel piped up with their own excited yes's, which apparently was enough for Mor because she quickly came up to the front, jabbed her finger at the screen on the dashboard, before hopping back into her seat. Seconds later, Ariana Grande's strong voice poured through speakers.

It was just Mor and Cassian's voices filling the small space until the chorus came and, surprising me, Rhys joined in too, his soft voice and humming, reaching my ears.

Ain't got no tears left to cry

So I'm pickin' it up, pickin' it up (oh yeah)

I'm lovin', I'm livin', I'm pickin' it up

By the end of a few more songs, Azriel and Amren joined in too, leaving me as the only person not singing.

And of course, Rhys noticed.

They sang a couple more songs before Rhys gave me a cheeky smile, which he tried to suppress by biting his lower lip. Unfortunately for me, that just made my stomach churn even more and I had to turn my face away. Seconds later the music went quiet and got replaced with Rhys's alluring voice, "Mor, have you been hearing Feyre's voice?" He raised his eyebrows at her reflection through the rear-view mirror. She frowned and turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing. I noticed Cassian smirking and though I was sorely tempted to stick my tongue out at him, I just narrowed my eyes at him, before turning back to Mor. 'What?" I snapped.

"You haven't been singing."

"No. I haven't."

"Rhys, would you be so kind as to tell our lovely Feyre what happens when someone doesn't participate in my games." Her shrewd eyes didn't move away as she said that. I turned to look at Rhys, and he glanced over to me before looking back at the road and smirked. "Well, Mor, it depends on the game, but in this particular situation, I think we all agreed that the person would have to sing at least two or three songs on their own."

"Oh, that's right." Mor mock-gasps in reply, before saying to me, "I guess that means you're on your own now, Feyre." She shrugged innocently as if she had no idea what effect she was having on me. My narrowed eyes transferred into a small frown. "I don't want to sing," I said, quietly. I really didn't. I didn't feel like attracting any attention. But then I felt someone's hand come and rest on mine. I just barely resisted the urge to slap his hand away as I looked up into Rhys's violet eyes, and was once again blown away by just how mesmerising they were. I could truly get lost in the beautiful depthless. "Do you want me to sing with you?" He asked with a voice as quiet as mine had been. I gave him a small nod, and he turned his gaze to Mor. "Play the Jonas Brothers, Sucker." She smiled in triumph before quickly pressing a few buttons on her phone. And just like that, Nick Jonas's voice started pouring through the speakers. Rhys sang the first two lines on his own before raising his eyebrows, his head bobbing along with the music. I sighed quietly before opening my mouth up.

—

Twenty minutes later, I was laughing and probably singing the loudest out of everyone in the car. After that first song, I'd gotten a bit more confident and since then my voice had only raised in volume, and when I didn't know the words, I hummed along with the tune. It was the first time I'd truly let go since that terrible night back in Auckland. I was happy: I was letting myself enjoy this time with Mor and her friends. I was glad I was still capable of laughing and having fun because I'd seriously started wondering whether or not I would ever be able to fully let myself go and just enjoy the pleasures of life. I was glad I'd let Mor convince to come along. I was glad I was laughing.

But behind those thoughts was the thought of why I was having so much fun in the first place. Rhys. He'd made me feel less nervous. The butterflies in my stomach had been replaced with a different type of butterflies when he touched me. Heat had spread across my whole body, especially through my core. I'd had to squeeze my legs a little to alleviate the pressure that had built up between my legs. I'd long accepted the fact that Rhys could do that to me. I just put it off to his looks though, every time it happened. There was no other reason for it.

AN: Did you like it? I know I say this every time, but I hope you liked it. Feel free to leave a review or any feedback/forward you have for me. Everything is appreciated. Thank you for reading, hope to see you soon, next time. XOXO

[everemmanuelle]

The night we met.

BRAD

I hated being home. I hated that this cold and empty Hollywood Hills house was now my 'home'. I spent most of my free days riding my motorbike, letting the roar of the engine drown out my thoughts. I missed my family. I even missed Angie. Though, if I were being honest with myself, not nearly as much as I thought I would.

I rode all across Los Angeles. I rode out to the desert. Joshua Tree. Death Valley. I didn't have any work to keep me busy. Not for a few weeks at least. Most of my friends were off working. George was busy with Amal. Cate, David, Ed... everyone was busy. They knew about the breakup, though the public didn't yet. They'd offered me their sympathy. I needed something more than that. I needed a distraction. I needed to get laid.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I slowed down to a stop and took a look. My manager, Cynthia, wanted to know if I was going to the event tonight. I'd forgotten. Julia had invited me a few weeks ago to the opening party of this new restaurant and bar that she and her husband had invested in. I'd told her I'd go. I was sure I'd be fine by then. I hadn't been out much since Angie had kicked me out of the house we'd shared. Maybe this was just the time. Maybe I'd meet someone who would scratch that itch. Or maybe I'd feel worse than I already did. It didn't seem likely.

I texted her back that I'd be there. I rode home to get ready. I looked at myself in the mirror. This was 53, I thought. My hair had started to grey. I had wrinkles all around my eyes. At least I'd kept fit. Robert Redford was what? 80 now? He looked alright. Should I shave? I touched my chin. I'd let a short beard grow. My hair was short, a little messy. It'd do. I showered, changed into a pair of grey trousers and a grey button down. I put on some black dress shoes and organised a car to take me.

HAVEN

"I don't wanna go!" I whined. I'd already agreed. I'd already drank the required amount of pre-drinking alcohol that Cali had laid out for me. I was tipsy.  But it wasn't the good kind. It was the kind that reminded me how sad I was that my boyfriend of the last six months had dumped me for gaining a few extra pounds. Even if it was for work. I'd always been a little too curvy for the industry as a model. But a few more pounds, my agent assured me, would put me on top of the plus size modelling industry. If it meant I got to eat dessert now and then, I was all for it. Leo, however, was not. In his words, "I can't be seen dating a fat chick."

"We're going," Cali said, pulling me up off the lounge. "You look so good. It's gonna be so much fun. You can meet someone to take your mind off Leo."

"I don't want to meet anybody," I argued. "I want to stay home and watch Netflix."

"And waste this good buzz?" she asked. "My agent got me two tickets to this thing. It's too late to find someone else. I am not going alone. Get your ass up!" Cali was a budding actress. She had talent and she worked hard but she needed the luck meets opportunity part of the equation. She was a friend from back home and we just so happened to be moving to LA at the same time a year or so ago. Rooming together seemed the reasonable thing to do. She quickly became the best friend I'd ever had.

I groaned. She was right. I was being selfish. I needed to snap out of it. Leo didn't deserve my sadness. He was an asshole. I knew I shouldn't date a guy whose last hundred girlfriends were skinny blondes. But he'd asked. I was beyond flattered. Romeo and Juliet was my favourite movie as a young girl. How could I say no? Well I regretted it now, didn't I?

"Okay," I said, rising, shaking off the melancholy and making sure I hadn't messed my black beaded mini dress with spillage or creasing. I was good. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Cali asked, as annoyed as she'd be if I bailed, she didn't want to be a bad friend and force me out when I wasn't ready.

I didn't want to be a bad friend either and bail at the last minute. She needed to network. I needed to leave the house. I nodded. "Let's go."

BRAD

Jesus Christ. Who the hell is that? She's young, I thought. But sexy as hell. My cock throbbed within seconds of looking at those eyes. I couldn't see what colour they were. She was too far away. But they were piercing. She caught me looking. I looked away. 

Not smart. Really not fucking smart. You came to this party to find someone to fuck and she was not the one, I thought. She can't have been more than 22. I was almost double her age. But that body. In Hollywood, a girl with some flesh on her bones was harder to find than a cocaine-free surface. Who was she, I wondered. An actress? A model? She had to be something like that. She was too pretty to be a nobody.

HAVEN

Brad Pitt. Brad fucking Pitt. He was looking right at me. Why the hell was he looking at me? We were in a room filled with Los Angeles' most beautiful women and Brad fucking Pitt was looking at me. And, looking embarrassed to have been caught in the act. And yet, he looked at me again.

"Cali?" I asked. She was chatting with another actress from her agency. "Cali!" I pressed.

She turned to me, annoyed. "What?" she hissed.

"Is he looking at me?"

Cali looked around, confused. I watched the confusion turn to shock as her eyes widened and mouth dropped. "Is that Brad Pitt?"

"Yes, is he looking?" I asked.

"He was," she answered. "He just looked again," she said excitedly.

I turned back and he was still looking. He smiled a little. I smiled back. I turned back to Cali. "Oh my god."

"You have all the fucking luck! Go over there," she said.

"Are you insane? I can't just go approach Brad Pitt."

"Why the hell not?" she asked. "I'll do it."

She was always much braver than me. That must've been the actress in her. She could do anything if she was pretending to be someone else. "No," I said, shaking my head. I glanced back at him. He was chatting to Julie Roberts. Pffft. No way could I go over there.

BRAD

I could barely followed along with what Julia was saying. Something about drama with the head chef. I just nodded, looking intermittently over at the beautiful girl. She looked intermittently at me too. No way could I approach a girl that age. That would be way too creepy. Julia excused herself as Rhys, an old acting buddy of mine, came to say hello.  "How are you?" he asked as he shook my hand.

"Good, how are you?" I asked.

"Yeah, good," he answered. "What have you been up to?"

I rattled on about nothing particular. He'd heard about the projects I had coming up. He told me about his. I asked after his kids and he asked after mine. And, Angie. I reluctantly told him that we were over. "Sorry man. That sucks."

I nodded. I looked back over to the girl. He followed my gaze. Shit.

"You looking at Haven Roser?" he asked.

"Who?" I asked.

"Haven Roser," he answered. "The model? Long dark hair. Massive tits." They weren't massive. They were proportional to her body. Angie was straight as a board. I'd loved her body but I missed curves.

"Never heard of her," I answered, hoping he wouldn't go on.

"She's dating Leo," he said. "Ah. There he is."

I looked over to see Leonardo DiCaprio in his usual newsboy cap, approaching her where she sat with a few other girls. He never did have a problem dating the young ones. Damn.

"Not his usual type but I'd fuck her," Rhys went on. Sure. As if she'd let him near her. He was as greasy as they came. I struggled to remember why we'd been friends as he went on about his latest conquests. I looked around the room for other women. I still had an itch that needed scratching. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Haven. 

HAVEN

What the fuck? Why is he here? I swallowed as he walked right over to me.  "Haven," he said, a question on his lips.

"Leo," I said back.

"What are you doing here?" I could barely hear him. I stood up. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I'm having a drink..." I answered, showing him my half empty glass.

He smiled straight and unhappy. "This isn't really your scene."

I furrowed my brows. "What does that mean?"

"It's an industry party," he continued.

"It's a restaurant opening," I argued. Cali and her friend were looking up at us then. I looked over to Brad, he was watching as well.

"Come here for a sec?" he asked, pulling at my arm, leading us into the corridor leading to the exit.

I pulled my arm from his grip. He'd never handled me like that before. In the six months we'd spent together he could be a little inattentive but he'd never manhandled me. Any part of him that was ever sweet to me seemed to have vanished from his personality. "What?" I asked.

"These are my people. You should go."

I laughed a little. Was he serious? "I was here first," I argued. "You should go."

He scoffed. I saw Brad approaching from behind Leo. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. God, he was even better looking up close. I lost my breath a little. Leo was nothing compared to Brad. Not now, not ever. "Leo," he said in greeting.

"Brad," Leo said, the charm switched on. This was the guy that asked me out. Oozing charm. "How are you?"

"Good," he said, before turning to me. "Hi."

"I hoped I'd see you here. Quentin told me you're in?" Leo asked.

"I am," Brad answered. He looked like he was waiting to be introduced to me. Leo seemed to have no plans to do that. "I'm Brad," he said, taking the initiative.

I shook his hand. Woah. His hand was warm. His touch electric. It shot straight through me. I took a breath. "Haven," I said, letting it out.

"Don't bother," Leo said. "She's no one."

No one. Six months and I was no one. I'd met all his friends as his girlfriend. We'd slept together. We'd gone for a weekend to Mexico together. I was a model with a relative amount of fame in my own right. No one? And he said it in front of Brad fucking Pitt. I mustered up the barest of smiles for Brad whose expression was unreadable and walked out the exit.

I was so embarrassed. I couldn't go back in there. I took out my phone and sent a text.

To Cali: I had to go. Don't be mad.

Hers came back quick.

Cali: I get it. See you at home x

I put my phone away as a figure appeared beside me. I turned to find Brad Pitt standing inches from me. What was that smell? Was that him? He smelled good. Like the barest amount of an oaky cologne and a touch of whiskey on his breath when he spoke. "Hi."

"Hi," I said back. It was all I could manage.

"He's a dick," Brad continued, with half a shrug. I smiled. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Was he nervous, too? "Do you want to go for a drink?" he asked.

Oh my god. Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. Brad Pitt? "Yeah," I said, hoping my voice wouldn't betray the sheer joy I was experiencing.

He smiled a little, walked over to the street and hailed an approaching taxi. he held open the back door. "After you."

https://www.wattpad.com/story/176006419-brad-brad-pitt-x-katherine-langford-complete VOTED #2 IN BRAD PITT FANFIC

[feyrhycien]

Feyrhycien #6

#1 | #2 | #3 | #4 | #5 | #6

When Feyre had untangled herself from the usual mess of limbs and blankets that came from sharing a bed with not one, but two people this morning, she had felt fine. Tired, grumpy even, but fine; completely in line with how she felt every morning before she had had her first coffee.

Feyre had showered, eaten the breakfast a very sleepy Rhys had made for her while she had gotten ready for work and let an annoyingly chipper Lucien drive her to work.

Two hours into her work, she had felt slightly dizzy, but Feyre had wrote it off as a side-effect of staring into her computer for several hours straight, working on some very intricate details for a design.

But when lunch had rolled around and the dizziness had not only gotten worse, but her stomach had also lurched at the sight of food, even Feyre had to admit that something was wrong with her.

A trip to the bathroom had her balk at her own face in the mirror: she looked paler than death, safe for the weird, feverish blotches of red on her cheeks, and there was a weird sheen in her blue-grey eyes. She was sick, a stomach bug most likely, considering that Feyre made good use of her trip to the bathroom by emptying her stomach from the remains of her breakfast. Bacon and eggs didn’t nearly taste as good when eating them backwards, she found.

She made her way back to her office on wobbly legs, shivering and sweating at the same time, and bid her colleagues farewell, but not without politely sanitizing the door handle on the way out and offering to smooch everyone, who was interested in taking a few days off. Strangely, nobody took her up on that offer.

Feyre dragged herself home to her own apartment, shot a quick message to her boyfriends about having to cancel their plans for today and likely tomorrow, and then collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to undress. She barely managed to shimmy under the covers and then she fell asleep.

Loud banging and the doorbell ringing repeatedly forced Feyre awake. Checking her phone, she saw she had slept for about 3 hours - 3 hours in which her boyfriends seemed to have gone ballistic, freaking out over the cryptic message she sent earlier.

She had several missed calls and a multitude of concerned messages from both Lucien and Rhys, slowly escalating from What’s wrong? to If you don’t call is back within the next hour, we’re calling the police and open the damn door before we tear it down Feyre. She bet 100€ against herself that she knew who was currently trying to rouse the dead by smashing her front door – or, well, her.

Feyre dialed Rhys’ number and the banging against her door immediately stopped. It gave her enough time to make her way to her front door and open it. She was greeted by the worried faces of her boyfriends, Rhys having his phone pressed against his ear.

“Hello good sirs. Would you mind shutting the fuck up?” Feyre greeted them with a scowl.

Instead of answering, Lucien and Rhys both tackled her, stroking her face and body, checking for injuries and talking at the same time, so she had no chance to understand what either of them were saying. Feyre gave a resigned sigh. It wasn’t hard to guess what information they were after.

“I’m sick. I was sleeping. You’re annoying. Please leave, I want to go back to sleep. I love you. Bye.”

With that, she turned around and trudged back towards her bedroom. But getting out of bed and talking had jumbled up her stomach enough for it to decide, there might be still something left to get rid of, so Feyre quickly ducked into her bathroom to hurl her guts up. The soft patter of footsteps and two large hands combing back her hair and holding it at the nape of her neck told her, at least one idiot boyfriend, if not both, had followed her to bear witness to her compromising state. A cool hand wrapped around her neck and Feyre took a shuddering breath when the retching subsided. A damp washcloth conveniently appeared in front of her face.

Feyre took it and wiped it over her eyes and nose, that both had decided to support her mouth by providing accompanying leakage, and sat back on the bathroom floor, completely exhausted. Rhys released her hair he had been holding in favor of stroking her back and Lucien filled her toothbrush mug with fresh water, so she could rinse her mouth. Feyre gave them a tired nod of thanks and accepted the mug, spitting the water into the toilet, once she was done rinsing.

“Thank you, but I’m okay now. You can -”

“We’re not leaving!” Rhys announced promptly.

“Please, I’m just gonna retch and sleep for the rest of the day and night. Nothing you can help me with!” Feyre claimed weakly. She didn’t want them to catch whatever she had.

Feyre tried to pull herself up by the sink, but her arms kept failing her. Defeated, she allowed Lucien and Rhys to help her to her feet.

“Yeah right, love. You can’t even stand without us holding your up,” Lucien scoffed and began unbuttoning her sweaty blouse. “Come on, take this off.”

Feyre was too weak to continue resisting, so she allowed Lucien to undress her, while Rhys supported her, and then let herself be carried into bed.

“Did you see a doctor?” Lucien asked, digging out a set of pajamas and tossing them to Rhys, who began dressing her like a life-sized doll. Well, Feyre really hadn’t the energy to raise her arms and legs, so she guessed, a doll she was.

“No, went straight home,” she slurred, feeling terribly tired all of a sudden.

Lucien blew out a frustrated breath and shared a look with Rhys, who made a grim face and then tucked Feyre into bed, stuffing the comforter under her body and wrapping her up like a burrito. Feyre unsuccessfully tried to fight him off.

“Rhys, I’m hot,” she protested, wiggling like a caterpillar.

“Good. You should work up a sweat. Is there anything you’d like to eat? Drink?”

“Your lifeblood,” she grumbled moodily, giving Rhys the stink-eye. “Your head on a plate, but I would make do with your balls on a stick, roasted over open fire. Some chicken soup, if your balls are not available.”

Rhys gave her a bemused smirk and pressed his lips to her burning, sweaty forehead. “Alright, little savage. Chicken soup it is!”

Lucien came over with another damp washcloth that he must’ve fetched from the bathroom, running it softly over her face. Feyre gave a small sigh of approval.

“Write down what you need, hon, I’ll go shopping,” he said to Rhys. “Meanwhile, you guard our patient. Make sure she doesn’t escape!”

Feyre wanted to give a nasty retort, assuring them she was fine on her own and they were being ridiculous, but she didn’t even hear Rhys’ murmured answer to Lucien, because suddenly, her eyelids felt very heavy and she was gone, dragged under by sleep.

~~~

It took one whole gruesome day for Feyre to get better. One day that, despite her earlier reservations, made Feyre really happy she had her boyfriends to rely on.

In the course of one afternoon and one night, Feyre had sweated through 3 sets of pajamas and 2 sets of sheets. Whenever she woke up drenched in sweat, everything wet and damp around her, one of the guys hauled her out of bed and wiped down her sweaty body with a damp cloth, dressing her in dry clothes, while the other stripped down the sheets and aired out the bed. Her washing machine and dryer were running nonstop, but at some point, Lucien had to drive back to their place to bring back new sheets and an extra blanket, because Feyre’s had become so damp, she couldn’t use it anymore. He also brought some t-shirts and sweatpants of theirs for her to wear, because she had sweated through every pajama she possessed.

Rhys had made her a delicious chicken soup, that unfortunately refused to stay down. Which of course didn’t stop him from forcing it down her throat at perfectly spaced out time intervals, convinced that, although she puked it up 2 hours after eating latest, some nutrition remained in her body.

When, by the next morning, Feyre’s fever was still going strong and she was been near delirious, Lucien resorted to the one thing he usually never did: he called his mother, asking for help. She instructed her son, whom she hadn’t seen or talked to in years, how to make leg compresses, and then softly reprimanded him for never introducing her to Feyre and Rhys. She wouldn’t let Lucien off the phone before he hadn’t promised her a meeting.

“If she lives,” Lucien had added dryly. For some reason, Rhys hadn’t found it particularly funny. Feyre, however, giggled until she was crying. Okay, maybe she was really close to dying.

The compresses helped somewhat with the fever and around noon, the soup stayed down, causing a bleary-eyed Rhys and Lucien to fall into each other’s arms and cry timid tears of hope. Feyre simply rolled her eyes and went back to sleep.

When Feyre woke again around dusk, her fever had broken - and her boyfriends broken down.

They lay on either side of her on the bed, completely exhausted from taking care of her all night. As stealthily as she could, Feyre climbed over them and out of bed and snuck into the bathroom, taking a long, lukewarm shower. She had probably lost 2 kilos by sweating alone.

Finally feeling clean and slipping on a dry, good-smelling set of pajamas fresh out of the dryer, Feyre stuck her head into the bedroom. The two of them were still fast asleep. With a little smile she tiptoed back to bed and got back in, taking up her earlier place between them. They didn’t even stir.

It took some careful pulling and wiggling, but eventually Feyre managed to get out the comforter from underneath them and she spread it over herself and her boys. Pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads, carefully checking their temperature when she did, Feyre whispered a quiet thank you and went back to sleep.

She might have not wanted them to take care of her, because she was afraid they would catch whatever bug was bugging her, but Feyre couldn’t help but be grateful for these two wonderful men in her life.

She only hoped, when she woke up the next time, it wasn’t to find them puking out their guts.

[stopforamoment]

Part Nine: My Only Tria (Series Eleven, Part 9 of 16)

Series Eleven: It’s uh Movin’ Thing, but Still and All (Sixteen Parts)

Part Nine: My Only Tria (Series Eleven, Part 9 of 16)

Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 1,299

Rating: M for Strong Language

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3​ for always being my sounding board! Thank you @liam-rhys​ and @silviasutton1989 for still being a part of the journey!

Triggers: There are going to be some dark themes in this series that deal with the consequences of what happens when parents don’t put their children first. I promise I won’t get graphic, and I’ll tag each section accordingly. This will tie in with future events and another aspect of Bastien and Rinda’s personalities—as individuals and as a couple.

Series Summary: It’s the week of October 14th, the sixth week of the school year. Henry and Rinda are staying in Cordonia, which means that Rinda can now begin to move forward, and backwards, with professional and personal aspects of her life.

One inspiration while I wrote this was a quotation from Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God:

“Love is lak de sea. It’s uh movin’ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it’s different with every shore.”

The other was these lyrics from the song “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Misérables:

“But the tigers come at night / With their voices soft as thunder / As they tear your hope apart / As they turn your dream to shame.”

Chapter Summary: It’s the end of the school day and Bastien wants to spend some time with Rinda—and get help with his tie.

My Only Tria

Bastien had changed back into his suit, but he was in Rinda’s classroom still struggling with his tie. “Really, Tiger? I thought you could tie a full Windsor Knot in 20 seconds flat while blindfolded with one arm tied behind your back.”

Bastien glared at Rinda. “I need a mirror. I can’t see if the knot meets my exacting standards or not.”

Rinda grinned. “Tiger, it’s your night off. You don’t have to wear a tie. But if you want, I can help you.”

“Can you tie a tie?”

“Nope. But I can either choke you with it or tie you up with it. Your call.” She walked up to Bastien and reached up to help him. “Shit, hold on a second. You’re way too tall.” Rinda grabbed a chair to jump up on the window ledge, and she motioned for Bastien to come over.

He moved over to Rinda but then stopped. “Tria? Aren’t you going to grab my tie to pull me closer so you can tie it?”

Rinda looked at him, not saying a word as she gauged his reaction. Now that they were seeing each other she was trying to figure out what was him still teasing each her and what was an actual invitation—or request. When she saw Bastien’s eyes falter she quickly lifted her leg behind him, hooking her ankle behind his head to pull him closer. Her leg still around his neck, she whispered into his ear “that’s for amateurs, Tiger.” She gave his ear a loving nibble before she pulled back and unhooked her leg, enjoying the stunned reaction on his face. As her fingers teased along his shoulders she gazed into his eyes. “What do you want, Tiger?” She grabbed each end of his tie and pulled him even closer, and she gave him a playful smile before pretending to get serious.

“So, Bastien. Do you want a basic knot, Windsor knot, or something else?”

Bastien slid his hands under Rinda’s calves and moved closer so she would wrap her legs around him. He had a teasing smile. “I want to look like the Merovingian guy from The Matrix Reloaded.”

Rinda laughed. “When he’s wearing the black shirt and tie, or when he has the red shirt and tie? Two different knots.” 

“The black shirt and tie.”

Rinda rolled her eyes. “Tiger, you already look like that for work. Why don’t you take it down a notch?” Bastien smirked as he leaned between her legs, hands caressing the sides of her knees as she worked the tie. Her eyes focused on what she was doing, but a small smile flitted across her lips.

“A penny for your thoughts, Tria?”

“You’re tickling me. Stop it.”

Now his hands reached under her knees, the spot where Rinda would ruthlessly tickle him. “No, no. Please, stop!” She was laughing as he gave her a devilish grin and slowly slid his hands lower down her legs, hooking his thumbs in her football socks. He purposely pushed down her socks when he did that, finding a new ticklish spot on Rinda’s right calf, but not her left. Interesting.

Rinda purposely knotted his tie a little too tight. “You are such a dick, Bastien.”

Then he reached up to help Rinda down from the window and he held her, not ready to let her go. Not wanting to leave her that night.She looked up into Bastien’s eyes and gave him a smile. “Okay, you’re all set. You look extra unbelievably pretty drop dead gorgeously amazingly good looking and hot. That would be ‘Unglaublich schön tot tot, herrlich erstaunlich gutaussehend und heiß‘ in German Rinda Ramble—more or less, I think.“

“Tria! You remembered all the words and even added in some new ones! I KNEW you thought I was hot.”

Rinda rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you’re growing on me a little. I mean, it’s not like you’re completely hideous to look at. But you’re still not cute. And NOW . . . you’re Vivian’s responsibility. When she rips this tie off and uses it to tie you to the bed, she better be ready to tie it back into a perfect Merovingian knot when you’re done.”

“Tria, you know I’d never  . . .”

“Okay, when she rips it off and uses it to gag you . . .”

“Tria! Stop! Do you know how weird this is already for me?”

Rinda wiggled away from him, trying to look serious. “Okay, do you have condoms?” Bastien just glared. “MAGNUMS that are geoduck sized, right? I know you liked banana flavored, but they didn’t have any in your size.” Rinda opened a desk drawer and produced a box of MAGNUM BareSkin condoms, a triumphant smirk on her face when she saw Bastien’s eye widen. He blushed, but maintained steady eye contact with her, patiently waiting to see how far Rinda would take this. She didn’t disappoint.

“I wasn’t sure if you preferred ribbed or BareSkin, so I went with BareSkin. You’re enough of a Bastien that you don’t need to rely on ribbed for her pleasure. Now, it’s only a 10 pack, but I think that’s enough to get you through the night? Here, take a look.” Rinda handed Bastien the box, and he saw that she glued a mini picture of a geoduck on the box. It was that annoying picture of the woman holding a geoduck, the one that Rinda showed him the first time he learned that it was a type of clam. And she would occasionally still send that picture to him, just to freak him out or to tease him, asking if he was still more Bastien than the clam.

It was getting harder and harder not to laugh at Tria’s crazy antics.

Fuck. Wrong choice of words. I can tell I’m starting to smirk. Tria is not going to win this one.

“Oh wait, Tiger! I also have a banana.” It was still sitting on her desk from lunch. “Do you need to brush up on a few things? I can hold it while you practice.”

“But Tria, who will hold the banana?” he deadpanned.

Rinda snorted and needed a few minutes to compose herself. She was laughing so hard that she was wheezing--damn, he could always make her laugh—and Bastien started laughing just watching Rinda’s reaction. He won this round, but he had to admit, it was always a win when he could make Tria laugh.

God, Tria was right. I am turning into a goof.

But she wasn’t done yet. “Okay, you’re almost done. Just one more thing . . .” Rinda ran her hands through Bastien’s hair, completely messing it up. “Okay, now you’re adorably good-looking and hot. But still not cute. I can’t let you get a big head.”

“Lorinda Rose, dammit!” She laughed again, but Bastien cupped her face in his hands. He knew she also used humor to deflect in difficult situations. “Tria? Sweetheart, show me your eyes.” He stared into them. They were green and shining because they had been laughing, but Bastien could tell they weren’t that actual luminous green, that special color when she was truly excited or happy about something.

“Tria, I know this isn’t easy for you, and I’m so sorry. But please, I promise it’s you, and no one else. You’re my only Tria. Please don’t ever doubt that.” He leaned in to give her his sweetest, most loving kiss when Rinda suddenly tensed and pulled back. “Tria? Rinda? I’m so sorry. Please . . .”

Rinda shook her head. “No, it’s not . . .” The principal’s voice boomed over the intercom. “Mrs. Parks, Bloomsday in the pick up area.” Rinda immediately whipped open the classroom door and sprinted outside, Bastien right behind her.

[carry-on-kissing-snowbaz]

Anniversary Fic

This is my contribution to the first day of Carry On’s Bday Weekend! Thank you @eroticspookfest for being an amazing beta! plan on posting one or two more during the weekend. Check out the @carry-on-bday-2017 page to see other anniversary works!

Word Count: 2141

Simon

The flyer in Simon’s hand seemed incongruous with the ancient walls around him, common school supplies and archaic architecture colliding. It looked as if someone had gone a little overboard with Microsoft Word Art when they had made the thing. He watched Penny’s face as her mouth broke out into a huge grin. Oddly enough, most of the students in the dining hall looked just as excited as her. 

“I don’t get it,” Simon said, frowning.

Penny looked up from the flier, still grinning.

“What?”

Simon gestured to the entirety of the dining hall.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” He said.

Penny stopped smiling and studied him carefully. Agatha stopped talking to Rhys and turned to stare as well.

“Simon what are you even saying?” Agatha asked.

Simon shrugged.

“Who cares if it’s the 500th anniversary of the school? I mean sure it’s cool but, I don’t see why everyone cares so much.”

Penny huffed.

“Simon, even in the Normal world this sort of thing would be big.”

Simon shrugged.

“I guess.”

“The school has been around for half a millennium, that’s a huge deal Simon!” Penny said.

“I thought we didn’t know when Watford first began,” Simon said, embarrassed that everyone was looking at like he was an idiot.

Penny smirked.

“No, but we do know when they started keeping student records.”

“Which was in the year 1517. So we count from there,” Agatha added.

“Well I still don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Simon said.

“Of course you don’t. If something doesn’t involve food or killing then the concept is utterly lost on you.”

Simon whipped around to see that Baz had been passing by their table and had stopped to deliver his comment, sneering all the while.

“Explain it to me then, since you’re so smart,” Simon snapped.

Baz smirked.

“All you had to do was ask.”

He sat down next to Simon. Recoiling slightly, Simon moved to put some space between the two of them as Baz ripped the flier out of his hands.

“An anniversary, like any other holiday or birthday, means that magic will be stronger than usual. We’ll be able to say stronger spells, create more powerful potions, and make the impossible happen.”

Simon hated the way Baz talked. It was as if he could make anything sound romantic.

“And there will be one hell of a party. Think of the Leavers Ball, except ten times more elaborate.”

Simon felt a flicker of unease.

“If magic becomes more powerful during an anniversary like this then won’t I be more…” Simon trailed off.

Baz grimaced.

“Yes, I imagine you’ll go off like a firework by the end of the night. Ought to make for amusing enough entertainment.”

With that, Baz rose and went back to his own table. As he sat, Simon saw Dev and Niall snicker, their eyes sliding over to Simon. He felt his cheeks warm.

“He’s such a prick,” Simon said, scowling.

“Ignore him Simon, you’re not going to go off just because the magic is stronger on that day,” Penny said.

But she didn’t sound totally convinced of her own statement and Agatha was eyeing him as if he were a ticking time bomb.

Baz

Snow had been anxious all week long. He could feel his magic practically twitching in the air in their room at night. Baz wasn’t getting sleep, which was making him snarkier during the day and in turn making Snow’s anxiety even worse. Baz hadn’t meant to set all of this off. All he’d wanted to do was ruffle Snow’s Normal skepticism a bit. He was paying for it now.

“Snow, can we talk?” He asked.

Snow paused, his tie still undone and shirt open.

“Why?” He asked, eyes narrow.

Baz rolled his eyes.

“Relax. I’m being serious,” He said.

“Fine,” He said, sitting rigidly on his bed.

“You’re not going to destroy Watford tomorrow. So can you just relax?”

Snow’s jaw hardened.

“I’m not sure why you’re trying to make me feel better but lying to me isn’t going to help. I saw it written all over Penny and Agatha’s faces.”

Baz frowned.

“Then just don’t go off.”

Snow raised his eyebrow, his expression angry.

“Why didn’t I think of that? You’re totally right. Just don’t go off, as if I can control it.”

“What usually makes you go off?” Baz asked.

“The Humdrum,” Snow said.

“And?” Baz pressed.

Snow glanced up at him.

“You,” He said.

Baz wished Snow meant that his uncontrollable desire for Baz was what made him go off. But he knew better, Snow went off because Baz pushed him to go off.

“I won’t bother you tomorrow then,” Baz said.

Snow smirked.

“As if you have control over that any more than I do over my magic.”

Baz wished they were flirting, not discussing their mutual hatred.

“I’ll do it, if it means you’ll calm down.” Baz said.

Snow looked confused.

“Why?” Snow asked.

“To protect Watford,” Baz mumbled.

To protect you.

Simon

It was the day of Watford’s Anniversary. As soon as Simon had woken up, he’d felt the difference in the magical atmosphere. There was a low hum in the air, not something he could actually hear but a tension he could feel. Part of him had wanted to throw up; another part of him had wanted to go off. Somehow, he managed to do neither. 

When he’d opened his eyes he had found that Baz was gone, bed already made and cold. Simon felt a small flicker of disappointment, Which was stupid, he should have felt grateful. Baz was doing exactly what he’d said he would do the night before, not bother him. Still, he had wanted to ask Baz what it was like for him, the extra power. Mostly it was just making Simon feel sick, overfull and depleted all at once.

When he had finally roused himself and made his way to the dining hall, he found that the sensation was worse. He felt like he might actually pass out from the amount of magic around him. 

“Isn’t it great?” Penny was asking.

“It’s weird, my magic doesn’t feel so, I don’t know, tense?” Agatha said.

“Anniversaries are amazing,” Penny breathed.

Simon felt his breathing rate go higher.

“Simon?” Agatha asked, concern in her voice.

Simon shuddered.

“I’m sorry, I just…it’s too much.”

Penny frowned and went to place a hand on his shoulder. The touch of her hand, even through the fabric of his uniform, burned.

“Merlin,” Simon moaned, backing away.

Penny ripped her hand away, eyes frightened.

“Did I hurt you?” Simon whispered.

She shook her head.

“Then what is it?” He asked.

Penny’s eyelashes fluttered, concern and confusion in her eyes.

“I think that I…well I think that I hurt you Simon.”

Simon frowned.

“How is that…even possible?” Simon asked.

“It was like…I could feel your magic,” Penny said.

Simon froze.

“I could feel and…I could use it,” Penny whispered.

Baz

Snow had left the dining hall hours ago and disappeared. He was missing all of the ceremonies and festivities. Baz wanted very badly to go see what was wrong with him but he worried that his presence would just make everything worse for him. Was it sick, Baz wondered, to be in love with someone and know that you were the very thing that made their life miserable?

He approached Bunce instead. 

“What’s wrong with Snow?” 

Penny finished her bite of cake and glared at him.

“Why on earth would I tell you of all people?” She asked.

“Because I’m trying to help him,” Baz said.

Her face crumpled into a look of disbelief.

“Why?” She asked.

He tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. To come up with any excuse. But he couldn’t. He was too worried about Snow to have a mask ready and in place. All of his feelings were written on his face and he knew it.

She gasped.

“Oh my god…” She whispered, studying him.

“Just tell me what’s wrong with him,” He said.

“All of this extra magic, for whatever reason part of it is coming from him. When I touched him, it was like my body absorbed a little more than everyone else. I-I hurt him Baz, I didn’t even mean to but I did.”

Baz felt his stomach drop. There were hundreds of people out for the anniversary. All of them were using magic, more than they would normally have been able to. Baz had always known that Snow was made of magic, but he’d never entertained the idea that all of that magic could be accessible to others, under the right circumstances. 

“I need to go check on him,” Baz said.

“Baz I don’t think-“

“I don’t care,” He said.

Then he was running.

Simon

He felt like he was dying. Maybe he was, it wasn’t as if he could tell. The room was a haze of buzzing, each vibration alighting painful nerves along Simon’s body. He felt like he was bleeding out. Except that he wasn’t, he was losing magic, not blood. He should have realized that an event as sacred to Watford as an anniversary would do something like this to him. He was never meant to be here at all.

Tears and sweat mingled over his cheeks, his neck. He had stripped to only his boxers. He would have taken it all off, except that he was worried Baz might come back.

Baz.

In the strange haze of pain and loss Simon realized that Baz’s name brought him comfort. Baz was infuriating and mean but he was also constant. He’d stayed away just to help Watford. That had to mean he wasn’t evil. 

He knew Baz wasn’t evil, deep down. The fever was breaking down all of the walls he’d built around himself over the years.

Baz was annoying, insufferable, and elitist.

Baz was the only one Simon wanted to see right now.

The door to their room opened. 

Simon waited to feel the roiling nausea that had accompanied all the other times Penny or Agatha had come to visit him during the day. He felt none of that. Instead he felt the buzzing in the room lower slightly.

“Baz?” Simon gasped.

He sat up and saw that Baz was staring at him, his expression caught between horror and caution. He must not want to make me go off Simon thought. 

“I can go,” Baz said.

“Don’t,” Simon whispered.

Baz came forward slowly, giving Simon a chance to adjust to his magic in the room.

This time the magic didn’t burn Simon. He felt his skin cool slightly, noticed as the buzzing decreased even more.

“Come closer,” Simon said.

Baz did as he asked, sitting on the bed beside him.

Relief was so close that Simon wanted to drown himself in it. He wanted to bury his face in Baz’s hair, to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him into himself.

But he wanted other things too. He wanted to press his mouth into the soft flesh of Baz’s cheeks, to lightly trail a finger over the length of Baz’s collarbone. 

He wanted relief, he wanted more tension.

He wanted more.

“Baz,” He breathed, tasting his name with magic. 

It wasn’t a spell; he was too weak to make anything out of it anyways. But he watched as Baz’s eyes went brighter, as his entire face seemed to come alive as it never had before.

“Simon,” Baz breathed.

Simon felt it. Baz had said the words with magic, both of his own and of Simon’s. It didn’t hurt though, as it had with Penny. When she had tried a spell in the room with Simon, he’d felt it as though she had ripped the magic inside of him away. This wasn’t like that. Baz wasn’t taking any magic, he was sharing it.

Simon moved forward, unsure of himself. This connection was different than the others, it was right. He pushed his hands through Baz’s hair and sighed happily as the buzzing in the room stopped completely.

Then he realized where he was; kneeling in front of Baz on his bed, hands caught up in his hair.

“Simon…” 

He kissed Baz. It was strange that he had never considered doing it before. Baz inhaled sharply but didn’t move away. He sat there and let Simon kiss him, hands getting twisty in Simon’s curls.

Simon didn’t even care that he was slick with sweat, and it seemed that Baz didn’t care either. Simon murmured his agreement when Baz opened his mouth. Their tongues collided, wrapped up in each other like their magic.

“Stay,” Simon panted, when they broke apart.

“Always,” Baz whispered.

They kissed again and this time they didn’t stop. Even when they heard the fireworks going off on the Great Lawn.

[rejectedembers]

Firebrant: Shades of Magic

So, here I go again, being a hypercritical bitch about a beloved book, or, rather, series. I want to make it clear right off the bat that I LOVE this series; I love the characters, I love the setting, I love the writing. I’d read this series again in a heartbeat, and no doubt eventually will. That doesn’t mean that I don’t see its flaws and weaknesses, or at least see what it could have been.

Spoilers inbound.

Without a doubt, this series’s biggest strength is its characters. I would even venture out in saying that Schwab doesn’t write characters, but rather people for how real they feel. A big part of this stems from her enchanting, but not overly flowery style of writing; descriptions never overstay their welcome. But these are all things you discover the more you read. The series’s major draw, however, is its setting, or at least that’s what the premise would have you believe.

The blurb on A Darker Shade of Magic immediately informs you of the parallel Londons (Red, Grey, White, and Black), and how only Antari can travel between the worlds. My assumption upon picking up this novel was that the inter-dimensional travel was going to play a significant part in the upcoming tale, and it does...for the first book. But once you get into book 2, characters seem to barely ever travel between the worlds. 

This is especially noticeable in the third book where I don’t think they traveled outside of the Red world at all to resolve the main conflict within the plot. Traveling could have easily been facilitated without even changing much of the plot: the MacGuffin the protags are after could totally have wound up in one of the other worlds at some point in time (I’ll elaborate more on this later). It’s especially annoying since we get constant reminders via Ned’s chapters of how Osaron’s magic seems to be seeping into the other worlds. It’s like Schwab is dangling the possibility of going there in our faces only to never deliver on this promise.

Honestly, the big problem here is simply a lack of world-building. When Schwab does spend time describing even the small, insignificant parts of everyday life, the setting really comes to life. I had very little difficulty imagining all of the Londons despite the fact that I’ve never even been to a single London in my own reality. But after establishing these settings in the first book, Schwab rarely returns to world-building from the perspective of the past. Events and characters become very grounded in the present, and even in flashbacks the focus is generally on the characters and what they were experiencing internally. The Red, White, and even Black worlds start to feel like there just isn’t much history to them, when that can’t possibly be true. And while I agree that it would have been rather tedious to sit through pages and pages of a character expounding on the “grand history of Arnes” or something of the like, there is something in particular that irks me when it comes to the lack of history.

The Antari play such a large role in the series, and yet after everything is said and done, you don’t actually get to know all that much about them. You get to know tonnes about the Antari characters, but almost nothing of the Antari themselves, their culture, their historical roles. Granted, part of the appeal of the Antari is that even they can’t answer what they really are, where their powers came from, why they were chosen, but how Antari come to be and what they decide to do with themselves afterwards are two entirely different groups of questions. It’s mentioned that there were once dozens if not hundreds of Antari prior to the catastrophe that happened in Black London. I find it hard to believe that, even if they each had their own loyalties, some of them wouldn’t have come together to create a unique culture. Even, at least, something more or less academic, trying to find answers to the question of how Antari come to be. 

I was really disappointed to find that the lore of the Antari was never expanded upon. More information on the Antari could have provided a lot of substance to many different areas of the story. The Antari characters could have learnt something about themselves while delving deeper into the mysteries of their predecessors, the concept of a culture of inter-dimensional travelers opens up more opportunities to include traveling in the story, and the plot could have received some much needed resolution for several key questions (I’ll expand on this later, too). 

This leads us to the overarching plot of books 2 and 3, easily the weakest part of the series. I love a good “save the world” plot as much as the next fantasy junkie, but I feel like it was just tackled lazily here: some evil force shows up, threatening to destroy all that the characters love, and they are the only ones who can defeat it. Other than that, there’s not much else to say about the main conflict, no twists or turns in the structure that keep you on your toes. A large chunk of the time was just waiting for the characters to find a solution they can start working on so they can finally have something to do. 

It doesn’t help that Osaron is one of the least compelling villains I’ve read about recently. I feel that Schwab was aiming to make him both a threatening, alien force unable to be reasoned with or properly comprehended by mortals, and a relatable human-ish being with desires and personality. I find him to be a failure on both ends, since the addition of some aspect of humanity completely destroys the image of him as an imposing, unbeatable entity, and he never reaches a level of depth and complexity that the human characters do, making him seem more like a caricature of a villainous person than anything. And this comes in stark contrast to Athos and Astrid, the villains from the first book, although you don’t even know they are the true villains until at least halfway into the novel. They were quite compelling for how they were very human and yet very, very twisted, and I really wished there had been more with them, especially for how they could have contrasted with Holland, showing us what White London is versus what it could be. Obviously, Athos still would have had to die, but it would have been interesting to see Astrid try for revenge or something of the like.

All in all, I don’t think the structure of the series helped. The first book very much feels like a standalone; one or two elements don’t get completely solved, but I also don’t think it was necessary to have seen them get resolved to have still had a full story experience. And while the first book provides set up, the plot of A Darker Shade of Magic feels entirely separate from the plot of A Gathering of Shadows and A Conjuring of Light, and because of this, the entire series feels stilted. Books 2 and 3 are so intertwined they might as well be one book, but the jump from book 1 to 2 is downright jarring in comparison. To be honest, I prefer the jump from 1 to 2 over 2 to 3, but considered as a whole, the lack of a continuous plot through all three books (or the lack of dedication to a series of single book adventures) definitely makes it seem like Schwab only intended to write one book but somehow came out with three.

In general, I would have liked to see a story that had an overarching plot, but included smaller moments of drama and adventure within. The characters are what really make this series stand out, and they shine the brightest when they interact with each other. They needed more time together, conversing and taking part in some action, solving problems together. Setting up almost episodic mini-arcs would have provided a good platform for this.

When it comes to leaving the main plot (mostly) intact, the ending could have been a bit more like this. Lenos could have known of an Inheritor due to his Antari grandmother, and, through tracing its path, they discover that she smuggled it to one of the other worlds (providing a little validation for Kell). Thus, our three Antari travel to either White or Grey London (perhaps Lenos’s grandmother sent it somewhere it could do no harm), and take part in their own little adventure to retrieve it. This would also provide an ideal chance to have them discover and learn from each other and/or their surroundings something about Antari history and culture. Meanwhile, Alucard stays behind with Rhy, and the two discuss what happened in the past (I’m not sure it’s ever explained why Alucard can’t just tell Rhy the truth. Is there a reason why Rhy may not believe him without proof? Seriously, it bugged me how they just never talked it out.). Rhy forgives him either then or later, and Alucard should have a moment where we see him protecting Rhy, making Rhy’s choice later on to have Alucard be an official protector make more sense, especially politically since there would have been witnesses. The three Antari eventually return, and execute their attack (or still have to travel to the ship market since maybe the Inheritor got smuggled around again). The point is the majority of the time spent mostly just sitting around the palace struggling to find a solution would be cut out, or relegated to some much more concise Rhy/Alucard chapters.

There are a few other disappointments I had with the series. Ojka, while an interesting character, is never really given much to do, a moment to shine. Most of the chapters involving her feature her internal thoughts about Holland and what he’s done, but not what she’s done. It feels like she was built up to be and do more, and so is far too quickly killed off. 

I’m also disappointed that there wasn’t some deeper connection revealed between Osaron and the Antari. I really got the sense after A Darker Shade of Magic that there was something about the Antari specifically that resulted in Vitari not being able to immediately take over their minds and bodies, something more than just “they are extra magical and thus extra magically resistant”. Once I got a bit into A Gathering of Shadows, I theorized that everything from Black London, including stones, was a piece of Osaron via his magic, and that Vitari was just a branch of Osaron’s consciousness. Thus, whatever special connection Vitari had to the Antari also applied to Osaron. 

After more solid evidence was given to suggest Delilah was Antari, I came up with a more fully-fledged theory: Osaron was to be the Black London Antari, or at least used to be one prior to absorbing all of the Black world’s magic. This would check out with the general pattern that was emerging: one Antari from each of the worlds. It also made sense logically as only an Antari should have been capable of whatever magic resulted in Osaron claiming it all in his own world. Not to mention this would explain the relative lack of/access to knowledge on the Antari; one of their own practically destroyed an entire reality, and they would not want that happening again. The magic, thus, that connected Osaron/Vitari to the Antari was more than just power, but some mystical tie that exists between Antari. Obviously, this is not what happened at all.

I have a few other, smaller nitpicks. I really wanted to see Kell and Alucard face off in the tournament just to experience the absolute bitterness that would be Kell after being forced to throw the match or else be caught. This would have contrasted well in a later scene of Kell and Alucard fighting side-by-side and discovering that they work well together. I also wanted to see more adventures aboard the Night Spire. It could have been more removed from London, or at least on the outskirts and so available to the group. In any case, the ship got a lot of play early on and build up in general for something much bigger, and for it to pretty much never come back in the main plot was disappointing. Pretty much everything with Ned and King George the IV was a waste of time. I was really hoping that that subplot would go somewhere if only to allow for some inter-dimensional traveling, but unfortunately not. I’m not a fan, either, of the decision to make the series rather dark and depressing by the third book. I understand that the situation was meant to be dire and “real” and adult, but it started to feel cheap once characters just started getting killed off left and right. 

Also, while I feel that the characters were very well-written, there is one thing concerning Kell that has bugged me since the end of the first book: he never seems to feel any real guilt over sending Holland to Black London. Admittedly, Holland was the aggressor, and so I can see Kell not feeling overly guilty about besting him and pretty much killing him in their last duel, but Kell is an Antari and he knows that they heal faster than most and can recover from some otherwise pretty nasty injuries. So, it kind of baffles me that his excuse for why it’s alright that he sends Holland to Black London is because Kell’s sure the other Antari is going to die anyways. Holland did end up recovering, so I just feel that maybe Kell should have known better than to assume. 

In any case, Kell’s never really forced to confront any guilt over the fact that the whole situation is entirely his fault even if it was simply a chain of consequences from one unfortunate choice. The closest we get is that he, eventually, sympathizes with Holland and the poor treatment he’s getting from everyone, because, had he given in at the end of book 2, Osaron would have used his body to get to Red London. If anything, though, this consequence didn’t feel like a result of a decision Kell made, but rather one that Holland made when he first found Osaron in Black London. The reason for Kell’s guilt or regret should come from the decision he made back in book 1 to send Holland to Black London, but there’s never get a good scene of him mulling over this fact, or even approaching Holland about it in a meaningful way. There’s also, that I can remember, no mention of Kell ever feeling that he should be completely responsible for finding a solution to the situation he inadvertently caused. Even if he never vocalizes it, or tries to go out on his own, he just never even thinks about it, and I just find it so incredibly odd that a character like Kell never feels the depth of that guilt either towards Holland or the entirety of Red London.

So, that’s all I have to say on this series, I hope. I do really love this series. It captured me from the onset, and even as I sat there with a critique starting to form in my brain, I couldn’t help but want to read more, for it to go on forever. My complaints are largely things I’ve noticed in retrospect, and aren’t about to deter me from picking up these books again. The Shades of Magic series deserves all the praise it gets, and I hope this rant doesn’t deter anyone from loving it any less.

[theladyofdeath]

Castaway {ACOTAR/Chapter 6}

Word Count: 2,775

Summary:  A modern-day University AU, from the A Court of Thorns and Roses universe. All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas. The idea for this fanfic hailed from prompts sent in by Anonymous, and @queen-archeron. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: ***TRIGGER WARNING*** This chapter deals with heavy material (via conversation). If you click on the link above (read previous chapters here link), you can read more about what heavy content this fanfic includes. Or, always feel free to ask me. 

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I would love to know what you think! Whose story is your favorite thus far? Feyre x Rhys? Elain x Azriel? or, Nesta x Cassian? Look forward to longer chapters again starting with chapter 7, which will be posted later this week. :)

Feyre stood outside his door, staring at the dull slab of wood.

She had debated knocking ten times already, and thought that maybe she should have just left. Tamlin, after what she had witnessed at dinner, not even to mention what happened at the party the other day, would not approve.

Then again, she wasn’t so happy with him at the moment.

He had yelled at her all the way back to campus. As soon as they got into the car, after Feyre slammed the door, she locked eyes with him. Was that necessary? You acted like an asshole –

Don’t. he had said. Shut your mouth unless you’re going to be on my side.

Tamlin could be charming. He would be gentle, and loving, and kind. But he had a temper. And when his temper even rose in the slightest, all hell broke loose. And the way he had acted around her family…..

She was not impressed.

It was unacceptable.

But he would apologize the next day. He would beg for her forgiveness, and she would give it to him. They would forget what had happened, and start a new day.

Although she was sure there would be no forgiving her if he found out she was standing outside of Rhysand’s apartment, without his knowing.

She needed a good grade though. And, she couldn’t lie – she was excited to paint again.

It had been so long.

She knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long for the door to open, but it was not Rhysand who answered.

A tall, white-haired male stood in front of Feyre, dressed in dark-denim jeans and a button-down shirt, with his eyebrows raised. “You must be Feyre.”

“Uh,” she blinked, “yes?”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, genuinely. “You have the right apartment. Come in.”

Feyre was shocked at how clean it was. For a couple of men, they were surprisingly neat. It was black and white – literally. The walls were white, as was the carpet, even the tile in the kitchen was ivory. But the furniture was all black – the kitchen table and the chairs surrounding it, the area rug on the living room floor, the futon, the arm chairs available for extra seating.

“Rhys! Your lover is here!” the man, who never mentioned his name, walked into one of the back bedrooms and shut the door.

The door across the hall opened, and Rhysand walked out to see Feyre standing in the entry way, gaping.

“Ignore him,” Rhys winked. “Kallias thinks he’s funny.”

He was wearing a black tee-shirt, and a black pair of sweatpants. His feet were bare, but it was his arms that caught her attention. There were tattoos swirling from the edge of his shirt sleeves to his wrists.

“I heard you had quite the dinner.”

Feyre didn’t move from her spot just inside the door. She didn’t answer, just nodded, once.

“If we’re going to do this, Feyre, darling, you have to come in. You do realize that, don’t you?”

She scowled. “Noted.”

After removing her shoes, Feyre walked into the living room and placed her supplies on an end table.

“Wow,” he said, observing everything she had dropped.

Feyre shrugged. “I take painting seriously.”

“Uh,” he picked up two different paint brushes and examined them, trying to tell what the difference was. “I would say so.”

“I’ll go first. You pose.”

“Straight to business then? No small talk?”

“I’m not interested in small talk,” Feyre snapped. “I’m interested in getting my A and moving on.”

Rhysand sighed, dramatically. “Very well. Where should I pose? How should I pose? Nude? I’ll pose nude.”

“If you start removing your clothes, I’m out of here.”

Feyre wasn’t sure what it was that made her so annoyed by Rhysand. Maybe it was the fact that Tamlin hated him, or maybe it was because he was a cocky bastard.

“Fine,” Rhysand grinned, her annoyance not getting to him in the slightest. “Tell me how I should pose.”

Feyre pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Do something natural.”

“Standing here, arguing with you, feels pretty damn natural.”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously –“

“Okay, okay.” Rhysand held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. Get set up.”

Rhysand sat on the couch as Feyre pulled out her sketch pad and squeezed out a series of colors into her palette.

“You’re just going to sit there?” she asked, once she was ready.

Rhys shrugged. “I thought we would start with something simple. If you don’t want me nude, or sprawled out to show off my goods, then yes. I am just going to sit here.”

After a roll of her eyes, Feyre began.

  He had waited for Cassian to go back across the hall and Nesta to head back to her own apartment before Azriel sat down with Elain on the couch.

It was nearly midnight before everyone had left, and he had helped Elain finish cleaning up. She was disappointed with how the night had gone, and Azriel couldn’t blame her.

He could tell it was bringing her down.

“You did good tonight,” Azriel said, with a soft smile. “Your food was delicious.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, wistfully, with a yawn.

“Why don’t we do this in the morning?” Azriel asked, patting her knee. “You had a long day.”

“No,” she argued. “I won’t be able to sleep until we talk about this. I need answers. It’s driving me crazy.”

Azriel nodded, unsurprised with her answer. “Okay. Ask away, then.”

“Tell me everything. Like….What happened with Mor?” she asked, leaning her head back against the sofa cushions. She nibbled on her bottom lip, as if she was afraid of the answer.

It took Azriel a moment to sort his thoughts, but Elain sat by, patiently. “We were foster kids, which you know. But the three of us boys – Rhys, Cassian, and I – had been together for three years already. Cassian and Rhys were sixteen, and I was fifteen, by the time we met Mor. We had overheard our foster mom talking on the phone in the kitchen after dinner one night, when she thought we were upstairs. She was telling her sister that they had found a girl on the streets, who had been kicked out of her parent’s house for losing her virginity. Her parents were strict, and that sort of business was apparently  unacceptable…..Anyway, they found this girl, who was only fifteen, and they were looking for someplace to bring her. Miryam had volunteered.”

Miryam. He didn’t refer to his foster mother often, but not because he had anything bad to say about the woman. She was kind, and she did the best she could. They hadn’t heard from her much since leaving the nest, though. Azriel called her every so often to check in, in which they would all talk for hours, but there were always foster children to take care of. And Miryam wanted to take care of them all, even as young as she and her husband, Drakon, were.

“Anyway. Mor had secluded herself when she arrived on our doorstep, we could tell she was terrified, which was understandable. We did everything to make her feel comfortable, without trying to overwhelm her. But the thing that got her, the thing that finally made her smile, made her open up…..We told her our own stories.”

Azriel had told them to Elain before, although simply thinking about his story, thinking about all their stories, brought a heavy ache to his chest.

Azriel had just been a toddler when his mother abandoned him on the steps of a church. She had been addicted to drugs, gotten pregnant out of a horrible situation. He had never known who his father was. He had always thought about trying to find her, if she was even still alive. He had always wondered why he wasn’t good enough for her. Why she would have rather chosen her addiction, over his life.

When he remained quiet, Elain simply laid her hand on top of his, bringing him back.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Um, when we told her our stories, it gave her courage to share her own. She repeated what we had already known, that her parents had thrown her out, that she was homeless……but, there was something that she mentioned that we were not aware of. That her innocence was not given, but taken from her. And her parents didn’t believe her. They thought she was using it as an excuse because she was embarrassed, and because she knew the consequences.”

When Azriel cast a glance at Elain, his heart dropped further down into the pit of his stomach at her expression. “Eris Vanserra?”

He nodded. “It wasn’t until we started school again a week later that we realized we knew him. That he was a senior at East Velaris.”

“I would have never known,” she shook her head, sadly.

It was impossible to. Morrigan was strong, she walked with her head held high and her back straight, although it took her a long while to get to that point. And Eris….he didn’t look like someone who belonged in a jail cell. Like a prick, maybe, but that wasn’t good enough for the judges. It wasn’t good enough for Mor’s parents, either.

“And what did Tamlin do?” she asked, after a moment of silence for the girl that was once Mor. “How does he fit into that?”

Azriel took a deep breath. “He wasn’t familiar with Eris all that much. But he was good friends with Lucien. Even more so then than now. They were a power duo, the popular crowd, the people that everyone liked and wanted to be around. They deigned to make our lives a living hell.”

Elain blinked. “Why though?”

“Because of Rhys. Because of his family.” Elain’s fingers tightened around his as he continued, “Rhysand’s parents, and younger sister, died in a house fire when he was thirteen. He was gone to a friend’s house, it was a Saturday night. His friend’s parents got a call in the middle of the night that there had been an accident. When they brought Rhysand home….there was nothing left. And no one made it out in time.” Elain covered her mouth with her free hand. “At first, they thought it was a freak accident, but after more investigating, there were holes. Not everything was adding up. To keep a long story short, they discovered that one of Rhysand’s dad’s employees had been blackmailing him because he was on the verge of losing his job. They brought him into custody as a suspect, and they found countless charges against him. He was found guilty, and sentenced for life.” A tear fell down Elain’s porcelain cheek as she listened. And she couldn’t help but close her eyes in remorse as Azriel confessed, “That man was Tamlin’s father. So……..Rhysand hated Tamlin because of what his father did, and Tamlin hated Rhysand because he blamed him for his father’s absence.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Elain yelled, before calming herself. “Rhysand didn’t do anything wrong in any of that.”

“No, he didn’t,” Azriel agreed. “But Tamlin didn’t either. Neither did Lucien. They may not have always been the kindest to the four of us, but it was their blood that did the real crimes.”

Elain shook her head. And quietly added, “I’m so sorry.”

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t be. We overcame. Mor and Rhys are both in college. Rhys is even about to get his degree. And Cassian and I are well off, we both have decent jobs and are supporting ourselves. We may have had shitty pasts, but we didn’t let them define us. Most of all, we all got a family out of it. A family who loves one another unconditionally. Who supports and uplifts and trusts. Everything else just led us to that, to what we needed. It sucked, but we survived. We conquered.”

Elain stared at Azriel for a long while – awe and sorrow and desire lurking in her soft, brown eyes.

“Well,” Azriel said, uncomfortably, rising to his feet, the look he was giving her was too close, too intimate. “You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, it’s your grand opening.”

Elain tried to smile, and Azriel could tell it was forced. “Oh. I almost forgot.”

He held out his hand, and she took it without hesitation. “Will you be there?”

“Before you open, ready to help in any way I can,” he smiled, and brought her close to his chest in a gentle embrace.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Typically, their hugs were short, sweet, friendly. This time, something was different. She wasn’t letting go. And neither was he.

“Az?”

“Hmmm?” he asked, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Azriel could have sworn he’d stopped breathing when he replied, in hardly more than a whisper, “Of course.”

  Rhysand had fallen asleep.

He’d woken with a jolt, fear radiating off him as he was unsure where she had gone.

She left. She was no longer there.

Her stuff was packed up, and absent from where she had been sitting, staring at him, painting.

All that was left was her giant sketch pad, still opened to a page.

Rhys turned on the lamp before approaching, and when he did, his breath caught.

It was a masterpiece.

He found himself ogling, wondering how the hell she could have painted something so wonderful, so quickly.

There was a folded-up note attached to the binding that stated: I’m not done yet. Don’t touch, it won’t be dry for a while. Leave it here. If anything happens to it, I will kill you. I will be back tomorrow night at eleven to finish it. Drink an energy drink or something before I come. You drool when you sleep, and it is not attractive.

Rhysand just grinned, before he realized whose bed she had most likely left his apartment for.

She was funny. She was smart. She was kind, even if not to him. And she was incredibly talented.

And she was his. Tamlin’s.

Rhysand took one last look at the painting. At the reflection of him, sitting on the couch, watching her every move.

Then, he picked himself off the living room floor, and went to bed.

And dreamt of the lover of his greatest enemy.

 Nesta couldn’t sleep.

She glanced at the clock as she tossed and turned for the umpteenth time.

3:58 a.m.

With a groan, she took out her phone and the note she had promised herself she would throw away.

He had given her his number, scribbled on the torn off edge of a receipt.

Text if you wanna say hi. Call if you ever need anything. He had told her, before she rolled her eyes and walked away.

He was annoying. And kind. And stupid. And beautiful.

Nesta was at war within herself.

After a deep breath, Nesta entered his number into her phone.

Hey. She typed. It’s Nesta. What’s up?

She quickly erased it. What’s up? My god, Nesta, it’s four in the morning, he’s most likely asleep.

She took a second attempt: Hey. It’s Nesta……

She erased it, again. It was pointless. She had nothing to say to him. She didn’t even know why she cared, or why she bothered.

And yet…

She held up her phone, one last time, and typed, Hey. It’s Nesta. I’m a bitch and am scared of someone caring about me. Your muscles look good through your shirt when you’re operating your crutches. How about we grab dinner sometime?

With a groan, Nesta tossed her phone on the bed beside her.

She would never talk to him. And she sure as hell wouldn’t meet him at the park. Especially not after she chickened out last time.

It wasn’t until she heard the swoop tone coming from her iPhone that she panicked.

It was the sound of a message sending.

She opened her eyes and shot up in her bed. Hovering over her phone was her cat, green eyes staring at her like he had known he’d just done something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Casper!” she took the old, white cat and sat him on her lap as she snatched her phone from the comforter.

Sure enough, there, below her text she never had the intention of sending, said read at 4:03 a.m.

It was only a few seconds before he’d responded.

Pick me up at 8. ; )

Chapter 7 coming soon.

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