#my brother came into her room and told her that when she died he would bury her in a grave instead

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i would like to stop experiencing the full spectrum of human emotions every day please. putting this out into the universe

[sudokuplayer]

-

[alicentofhightower]

the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

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Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

[artteristly]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊, 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐁.

SUMMARY, you’ve had made peace with yourself knowing that you’d be a spinster for the rest of your life, so that you could take care of your little sibling, such as because they see you as their mother. Who would have thought just because you tagged along with your twin brother to an invited vacation, you’d meet your future husband who suffered the same responsibility?

MASTERLIST , 𝓌ord count, 6.6K

𝒞andles were the main light source to guide you through the dark halls of your home when your younger brothers had nightmares. Your hand was rather larger than theirs, but you still let their tiny fingers lead you to their room. Speaking about how in their nightmare it was a night roaring with thunder and you and your twin brother were nowhere to be seen.  

You hush them to sleep, raking your fingers through their hair and letting their unconscious body cling to yours. While tucking them in again, you hear the door open slightly. “A nightmare?” Oliver spoke out, making you soften your gaze on him. “It is like they were there when Mother died.” You sigh as you ruffle one of the twin's hair. 

“They are haunted by the night they were born.” You frown, simply because this wasn’t the first they came crying into your room about the horrid dream they had. Oliver seemed to sense your stress and took you away from the twin's room. “We simply can’t do anything about it sister, but try to raise them differently.” He sighed. 

It had been years since your mother's death, and you took the responsibility to take care of your younger brothers. Her cause of death was because of them, having no choice but to be cut open and die bleeding while hugging her causes. Your mother huffed as she gave you her final orders as a mother before dying. 

Her death was heartbreaking and the one who took it to heart was your father. He died a week after from a broken heart, leaving your brother to be the new lord of the family, and you the lady of the house until your brother married. 

You were presented to society as requested by your aunt, but when no suitors understood your desire to raise your brothers, you simply didn’t marry. You were a spinster to society and a mother figure to your siblings. 

“I don’t know Oliver, I hate seeing them suffer.” You walk into his study and sit yourself down, him following your actions. “You seem to grow the senses of a mother, sister.” Oliver smiled and sighed until he remembered something from earlier today. “I’ve received an invitation from one of my old friends, they invited us to their countryside home, where they will host a ball soon.” He looked over, catching how this took all of your attention. 

“It would be nice, you and the boys would love some vacation, especially you since you're the one who needs it the most.” You stood up and smiled, taking your shawl and covering yourself once again walking straight to the door. “So it’s a yes?” Oliver asked making you laugh lightly and then nodding. “Of course Oliver, who am I to deny you of relaxation?” 

He laughed lightly before watching you walk away to finally sleep, and he returned to his desk to do his duties. 

You’ve noticed it had been quite some time since you were in the countryside, and seeing Aubrey Hall was quite astonishing when you first saw it. Thomas and Richard bounced excitedly when they saw the house, blabbering about how it was gorgeous and humongous. “You must act like gentlemen while you are here, well-mannered and respectful.” You told them watching as they nodded furiously and repeated ‘Yes big sister!’ over and over. 

When the carriage stopped you saw the Bridgerton family spill out of the front door, lining up to greet your family. Once you stepped out someone called your last name out, making you look up to see an older man smiling at your brother. “Clarke!” 

“Bridgerton!” Your brother smiled and shook the man's hand, then hugged for a second before he introduced his family. “Dear friend, I’m quite hurt you wouldn’t invite me to your wedding nor tell me you had a family..” Anthony spoke, making you laugh at the face Oliver made. “My Lord, you’re mistaken, I’m Oliver's sister, and these are our siblings Thomas and Richard.”  You smile at his bewildered face. 

“My Apologies.” Anthony ducked his head, making you chuckle and dismay the mistake. “Please do join us for tea!” Violet smiled at the four of you, gladly being invited in. 

You were astonished by their home, it seemed like a wonderful place to grow up in. The tea room was more beautiful as you sat with Oliver on one of the sofas. “Mother, can we go out and play in the garden with Thomas and Richard?” You learned that the youngest Bridgerton siblings were Hycinth and Gregory, somewhat the same age as Thomas and Richard. “Of course, if it all right with their older siblings.” Violet looked over for your permission. 

“Sister, can we? Please!” Richard came up to you, right behind him was Thomas talking to Hycinth. You look over to Oliver, and he nods and allows it. “You may, but don’t cause trouble!” You spoke, and automatically they thanked you and promised nothing but good deeds. 

Violet smiles at your motherly aura, making you smile back at her when you catch her staring. The moment was wonderful and not long after dinner was being served, that was when you separated yourself to find your little siblings. A servant leading you outside to them, you were about to call out to them until a voice behind you did it for you. “Everyone, time for dinner!”

You looked behind your shoulder to find Anthony behind you, he instantly looked at you. “Thank you, My Lord.” You bowed your head, you were about to leave until he spoke.  “I hope you do forgive me about earlier.” He said, you raised an eyebrow a bit confused. “About what My lord?” You asked before turning your head and looking for Richard and Thomas, they were running straight at you. “About me mistaking you for Oliver's wife,” Anthony confessed. 

You smiled softly before yelling at the boys not to run inside, again turning over towards him. “Don’t worry about it, My lord.” You laugh lightly before you watch him offer his arm, making you confused once again. “Allow me to show you where dinner is held..” He smiled, and you once again smiled out of kindness, before taking his hand. 

You flinch awake when you feel someone slip under your bedsheet, making you peek your eyes open. Only to find Thomas sniffling his tears, making you well aware of what was happening. Thomas was always the most sensitive one out of the twins, he was a soft boy who was very kind. “Thomas, what happened?” You whisper, caressing your hand on his cheek, wiping his tears away. 

“I had a nightmare again.” He sniffled, he was visibly shaken up. His night clothes were crinkled, his hair was ruffled and some parts were drenched in sweat. His blue eyes were puffed and his nose was snotty, making your heartache. 

You turn over in your bed and light up the side candle on your night table, the dim light making everything around it glow a soft light. You push the duvets and blankets away and put on your slippers, walking inside the bathroom to the side of it. Thomas sat up and grew shy, were you mad at him?

“C’mere Thomas, we don’t want you going to bed all sweaty.” You came back in the room with a damp towel, rubbing it along his hair, trying to clean up the sweat off his hair and neck. “Lay down.” You told him before going into the bathroom again. When you came back, the towel was damp again but this time you placed it around his face, hoping the cold towel would calm him down. 

You sit beside him on the bed, pulling your knees towards you. “What was your nightmare about?” You asked softly when you uttered those words, you could feel him tense around you. “You can talk to me when you’re ready if it’s too hard, for now, we can just be in each other presence.” You run your fingers in his hair, feeling him ease up. 

After a few minutes he talked, but his words trembled like he was about to say something wrong but spoke. “I saw Mother, in my dream.” He said, just now leaning a bit more into your side. “She was with Papa, and you. She was cradling you in her arms, saying how you were doing a good job.” He sniffled, closing his eyes trying to remember again. 

“Then everything sort of started to disappear, she kept saying how it was time for you to join them, and she disappeared again and left you crying.” Tears swelled in his eyes, trembling. “Do you miss Mother and Father, sister?” He looked up at you, making you bite your tongue, not wanting to cry in front of him. “Of course I do.” You swallow the sadness down. “Do you hate me for taking them away?”

“Thomas, never say such words.” You spoke calmly at him, making him look away. “You are my brother and I must take care of you–Mother told me it was my final order as a big sister.” You told him. “Everyone is destined to go somewhere they might return from, it was simply their time to go.” You stated. 

“You won’t leave us alone, right sister?” Thomas looked at you, his gaze holding hope and fear. “Never, I’ll be by your side until you are big enough not to need me all the time.” You smiled at his foolish question. “I think, I’ll always need you here with me sister.” He murmured, finally closing his eyes. 

As he falls asleep in your bed, you can’t help but sigh.  

Candles were the main light source to guide you through the dark halls of the Bridgerton house, taking a peek inside your brother's guest room. Only to find the bed still neatly made, so you wandered around until you heard soft laughter in the Billard room. You peek in, seeing your Brother playing pool with Anthony. Colin and Benedict drinking on the side, chatting between themselves, and drowning in smoke.

Your soft knock on the door startles them, making their eyes stare at the door. “Sister?” Oliver looked at you confused. You smiled nervously before talking “Sorry to interrupt but I need your help.” You say. “What with?” He asked, more confused than the first. “It is Thomas.” With that, your brother is hastily walking towards you. 

“He had another nightmare, he is drenched in sweat.” You whispered at him, eyeing him and the Bridgerton brothers who stood quite confused. “Did something happen, should I send for a doctor?” Anthony was the first to speak out. You and Oliver looked at each other and communicated with your eyes. 

“No, our brother is simply hogging my bed.” You smiled softly at him, before pulling your brother's sleeve. “Again, sorry to interrupt, have a good night gentleman.” You bow your head down, before walking out of the room. “I’ll be right back.” Oliver excused himself. 

After you left, the band of brothers looked at each other “What do you think that was about?” Benedict asked, making Colin think. “Perhaps the boy simply has an attachment issue?” The two brothers keep talking but the elder one is still glancing at the place where you stood. He knew the look you gave to your brother meant something, something he knew about. 

It was simply the same look his mother gave him when she needed to carry the young ones to bed because she alone couldn’t pick them up. As he stood there in thought, he started to think more. You were similar to his mother, giving the same comfort around other people. You gave those boys so much motherly love, just like his mother did with him and his brothers. 

“Perhaps she is just a mother figure to those boys.” Anthony simply said, taking a sip of his liquor. Benedict and Colin brushed him off and continued talking, they wouldn’t get it anyway. A figure will always recognize another. 

The sun playfully peaked through the blue curtains, making your eyes flutter open slowly. You hum as you let your body wake up, stretching to each corner of your guest bed. You felt amazing like you just gotten the best rest of your life, instantly placing you in a good mood. 

You have gotten yourself ready for today, wearing a light purple dress and placing your hair down, showing off its length. You smiled at the thought of having a peaceful morning in this gorgeous country home, simply sitting near the garden, enjoying the morning breeze and a book. 

You slip out of your room and walk downstairs. 

Anthony flinched, hearing floorboards creaking in his home. He could feel the house become alive but could hear someone speak to others. He wondered who it could be since he was usually the first one up. He sighed and shuffled out of his bedsheets, peaking out of his view of the backyard, only to see you sitting with a book in your hand. 

He wondered what you were doing, he could only slowly start waking up while looking at you. Should he join you for tea? He asked himself, before making his mind up and doing so. 

He slowly shuffled out of his trousers and slipped into his clothes of the day, then walked out of his room. The morning staff greeted him, and he then ordered him to bring tea outside where you were, they quickly did what they were ordered to do. 

You got startled when a soft ‘good morning.’ spoke out towards you, making you look behind and see who was responsible. “Ah, Good morning, My lord.” You smiled while standing up, and curtsying towards him. “Please, May I join you?” Anthony smiled, gesturing to the free seat, in which you nodded. 

“How was your night? Was everything to your liking?” He asked, making you place a bookmark on your book. “Everything was perfect, you shouldn’t worry.” You smiled, noticing a maid coming up and serving tea. “If you don’t mind me asking, was everything alright yesterday night?” Anthony questioned. 

You looked at him as you were going in to sip tea, and you placed it down softly. “Thomas is a compassionate boy, he gets scared easily, and he has recurring nightmares.” You tell him, catching how worried he looks. “He sneaks into my room, simply seeking comfort.” After that, you take a sip out of your tea. 

Anthony nodded, he could only think of how many times he had to help his Mother with Hycinth and Eloise, and sometimes Daphne. “Seems like our duty as older siblings.” He said with a soft smile, making you look at him. “How are your siblings? Are they well-behaved, or perhaps chaotic?” You smiled when he sat up in his chair. 

“They are way different from yours, they are bipolar, and they switch moods mostly all the time.” He smiles, bringing his teacup up to his lips. “Especially Hycinth and Gregory, those two are always at it.” He sighed into the cup before sipping his tea. “Richard and Thomas are sweet boys, they don’t like causing trouble.” You laughed at the thought. 

“Miss Clarke, I find it honorable what you are doing.” Anthony smiled softly at you, making you tilt your head. “Of what, My lord?” Your eyes glued right at his, trying to study his expression. When you get the idea of what he is saying, you place your teacup down. “My Lord, It is simply our duty as older siblings.” You smile softly. “We must provide our younger siblings with emotional and physical security.” 

His breath hitched as he looked at you. You had worded his thoughts perfectly like you knew what he was thinking. “Morning.” You both turn over to see Benedict stretching as Colin and Oliver come downstairs, and you simply smile at the three. “Morning gentlemen, I hope after all the fun you had yesterday night you rested well.” Benedict nodded happily, thanking you and sitting right next to you, popping a light biscuit in his mouth. 

“Do not worry Sister, after I won a game of pool against Colin, we simply went to sleep.” Oliver ruffled your hair, and in return, you smiled at him. “Yes, do not worry Miss Clarke, after your brother finally won a game against me, he quickly retreated to bed.” Colin corrected Oliver, making you giggle. Amid your conversation with the other three, Anthony kept looking at you quietly. 

How was it that you clicked so easily with his siblings? You were at most a natural when it came to socializing with others, easily joining the conversation you were immediately included in. You did your duty as the Lady of the house quite easily, while you helped your brother with paperwork and money problems. You were about everything he was trying to be or be with. 

“Breakfast is ready, My lord.” A maid called out, making him snap out of his thoughts. “Shall we?” He smiled and walked inside, making the rest walk inside. As he walked into the main area, he could see the boys running toward you and your brother. “Brother, Sister! Good morning.” Richard jumped into Oliver's hands, while the boy ruffled his hair. Thomas on the other hand grabbed your hand and smiled, making you caress his cheek. 

During breakfast, out of the corner of his eye. He could see you acting motherly towards them, making him intrigued, and have some questions. 

Then again during tea time, you were sowing back up one of Richard's handkerchiefs, touching the fabric up. Richard read out loud with you, while you corrected him on some words. 

His last thought was seeing you play with them, running in the green field in front of Aubrey Hall, right in front of his study, he stretched, needing a break, and as if Benedict heard his wishes, he came into his study. “Brother, do join us for pallmall.” His tilted smile was on full display. 

Anthony walked downstairs to find his whole family waiting, huddling around the rack filled with different colored mallets. He saw you crouched down, holding your finger out towards Thomas and Hycinth whose eyes widened as you told them that the insect on your finger was a butterfly. 

“Sister, will you be joining us?” Oliver asked you, letting the butterfly fly away and making the children run after it. “I’m playing with Thomas and Hycinth! Perhaps another day!” You smiled lightly seeing a pout on your brother's face. 

Anthony felt his hands sweat, just as you uttered those words, a gold ray of the sun landed on your skin. Making him utterly mesmerized by your image, then leaving him clenching his first tightly as you ran towards the children, making the wind an actor as it runs itself through your long hair. 

It shined rightly under the sun, he could’ve mistaken you for a fairy. Benedict pushed him out of his thoughts and ushered him to play the game.

That night Anthony felt strange as he laid in his bed, absolutely devoured by the thought of you. What was going on with him? He was high with the sound of your sweet voice, your smile, and your kindness. He wanted to entangle his finger in your hair, he wanted you to caress his face. 

He groaned, why was this happening to him? Just when he puts love off to the side, his heart starts to throb for someone. Was it wrong as well? You were his friend's younger sister. He huffs as he stands up once again, he shivers at the thought of you running your hands behind him, wrapping them around his waist. Was he mad? Was he insane? He shouldn’t be thinking about you. 

He walked towards his study until he saw a dim light in the library that was connected to his study. “Who is in here?” He spoke out and like his thoughts were heard about someone, you stood still there, like you were deer caught while hunting. “Sorry, am I not supposed to be in here?” You went still, watching as Anthony walked in laughing a bit. “No, Do not worry, you are allowed to be here.” He chuckled as he saw your grip loosed on your shawl. 

“You gave me quite the scare, My lord.” You laughed breathlessly before pushing the book back in its place. You looked at Anthony who kept looking at you, making you nervous. “You have a beautiful library, it puts mine to shame.” You grabbed a book that you recognized easily, sliding it off the shelf.

"It was my late fathers, he took pride in his collection, we say Eloise got that habit from him.” He walked towards you, a good arm's length away, looking down at the book you were holding. 

“Pride and Prejudice?” He smiled, making you nod scanning the book cover. “A lovely love story, both of the characters overcoming pride and prejudice and surrendering to love each other.” You hum out, handing the book to him. “I rather think it’s quite aggravating.” Antony hummed out, looking up to see your reaction. 

“Oh, why do you find it ‘aggravating’?” You asked directly giving him your attention. “It bothers me how much they deny each other, and how she can’t see he’s being a gentleman.” He mutters placing the book back, falling a bit weak in his knees when your eyes examine him. You find it amusing, and to show it you it, you giggle. “Well, it’s romantic when a man is desperate for a woman's love.” You walked away towards the window. 

Anthony watched as you walked away from him, he felt the cold brush his skin where your warmth was. “Ms. Clarke, do you have a husband?” Anthony said, making you look at him surprised. “Sorry, I overstep.” Anthony walked towards the door leading to his study, what was wrong with him? 

“I don’t have a husband.” You chuckled as you saw his shoulders ease, walking his way. “It is rather hard to find one who understands my circumstance.” You expressed your displeasure, making him look at you directly. “It feels like most men have one goal, and that is to expand their lineage. I, however, want to take of the family I already have.” You smiled softly as you stood there an arm's length away...

“After my parents passed, I felt a heavy burden to take care of my three brothers. Oliver might seem like the older one but I’m older by three minutes.” You giggled before sighing heavily. 

“I’ve helped manage our household, managing our finances with Oliver, taught them many activities, helped with their studies, having to be there for the three of them.” You tear up just a little, never being able to dump your feelings. “I’d gladly be their support pillar, and to take care of them.” You smiled. 

“I love my brothers dearly, such as you do for your siblings, but mine are still immature with no guide in their life–I’d rather raise them to be gentlemen and make other young girls happy than to find love, I’ve made peace with it and if someone understood that, I’d gladly treasure them back.” You expressed truthfully. 

Anthony felt like he had overstepped greatly but he couldn’t help but feel for you. Making him look at you with understanding eyes. “How did your parents die?” He asked, regretting how your expression turned into hurt from remembering unpleasant memories. 

“Um, my Mother died during childbirth, having to be cut open to get Thomas out after Richard, she died bleeding while holding him. A week later my Father died of a broken heart, he couldn’t live without my mother.” You blinked some tears away before wiping them away. You both stood there in silence until you spoke again. “How did your father die?” You asked him. 

You could see him close his eyes and exhale heavily “He was stung by a bee.” He looked at you somewhat humbled. “To see my Father who was a great man, be killed by a small creature is humbling.” He sarcastically said before feeling comfortable with you. 

The air took a shift as he saw you studying him more deeply, then looking at him with a gaze that allured him towards you. It seemed like the only thing you two could do was convey feeling through your eyes. He leaned in closer, making you lean in as well. 

“What if I understood you?” You turn over inhaling at how close he was. You looked up at his eyes they looked at you desperately, and you looked down nervously. You flush as you see his chest through his sheer nightshirt. “I fear that I understand you far too well.” You looked so small under him, so flushed, so captivating. 

“What are you saying?” You looked up at him and god did he want to kiss your lips. He cursed himself for looking at you with those thoughts, and it didn’t help when your collarbone was visible, nor the line where your breast started. Your doe eyes looking at him so confused, as your lips parted to speak again. 

This time your mouth was left open as nothing came out of it, making him turn his head over lining your lips with his but not placing them on you. You felt confused, you wanted to set your lips on his but didn’t and it was eating you up alive. Your breath hitched as you felt his hands pull yours forward, it felt like he was pulling your heart making it pound. 

You felt right as he showed you the most vulnerable side of his you've seen, you allowed yourself to brush your lips against his slightly. Allowing him to feel the slight texture of your plum lips, making his breath hitch. You pulled away after gaining a reaction from him. “This isn’t right, I–” You shook your head feeling a heavy feeling in your heart. “Please..” Anthony felt his cold heart begging to be warmed up. 

“I-I shall bid you good night.” You turned away, breath trembling as you pulled your shawl over you tightly. You were glancing at him one more time before leaving the room hastily, feeling the cool air on your flushed skin. 

On your third day in Aubrey Hall, Violet was going to a ball. It was an annual ball apparently, and you were their honorable guests.  You told your brothers that they were to stay put with Hycinth and Gregory since they were still too young to be out during balls. 

Your ladymaid helped you slip on a royal blue dress made of silk that complemented your figure. The dress has beautiful detailing, little flowers that trail to the back of the dress, and a beautiful bow on the back that turns into a nice small train. With a nice halfway-up hairstyle and large curls flowing down, your mother's jewelry was the final touch. 

You thank the ladymaid as she smiles and begins to clean up the space, you leave the room to walk towards your brothers. You knock on his assigned guest room, which was partly shared with your little brothers, just a wall separating them. Richard whipped the door open and smiled big “Sister!” He engulfed you in a tight hug. 

“Richie! What are you doing here?” You laugh as he drags you inside, making Thomas run towards you and hug you as well, “We are helping Oliver get ready!” Thomas butted in before analyzing your dress. “Sister you look beautiful!” Thomas and Richard spit out in unison, making Oliver glance over. 

“I must say, Sister, the color rather suits you better than me,” Oliver muttered as he walked towards you, giving you his carvat indicating he was having trouble putting it on. “Nonsense, it looks fine on you.” You easily put his cravat on, making him huff. “My future sister better knows how to put these on or you’re going to be in lots of trouble.” You giggled as he gave you a look. 

“Are we getting another sister soon?” Richard said excitedly, Thomas right behind him with joyful eyes. “I’ve told you I don’t want to get married this season.”Oliver shrugged on his waistcoat that was matching your dress, butting it up.

“Please I have a feeling you’ll meet your future bride at this ball brother!” You say excitedly, making him pout and look at you. “What about our new brother? Are you going to get married soon?” Oliver asked.

You freeze, and the thought of you and Anthony yesterday night pops up in your mind. Making you flush red and shy, and this didn’t go unnoticed by Oliver. “Sister, have you made a match?” Oliver buttoned up the last of his buttons and rushed to your side. You clear your throat, looking away from the boys who cornered you. “I have not.” You walked away, and suddenly Thomas hugged your legs and Richard your waist, making you stop in your tracks. 

Oliver picked you up making you squeal at the sudden movements, then plopped you down on a chair. “Sister, do you like someone?” Thoma questioned you, making Oliver and Richard eye you. “Why are you asking me that?!” You asked a bit flushed. “We just you to be happy sister.” Richard expressed, making the other two boys nod. You looked at them sincerely, making them continue.

“We want you to be with a husband that will take care of you, just like you took care of us.” Richard told you, “You deserve a happy ending sister, you’ve done so much.” Oliver held a hand towards you, making you stand up. 

“But if I do so, you’ll be alone, I don’t wish for that.” You start to tear up, making the three boys offer you their handkerchiefs, you laugh lightly, and they offer the handkerchiefs you made for them. “We are big boys sister, either way, you won’t leave us forever right? You’ll visit us!” Thomas exclaimed making you breathe out. 

“I don’t think I can leave you all alone.” You told them, making them huff. Oliver finished up getting ready, and you ushered the boys into the nursery where the younger Bridgerton siblings sat. You meet Oliver at the top of the stairs, grabbing his arm as he guides you both to the bottom, where the elder Bridgerton siblings chat amongst themselves. 

Anthony broke his chatter with Daphne who kept talking, looking at you with your astonishment as you walked down the stairs. You two were talking to Benedict and Eloise as they broke apart from their family to speak to you. “Sister! Let me introduce you to our guest.” Anthony smiled as Daphne nodded along. 

“May I introduce you to Lord Clarke and his sister, Ms. Clarke.” Daphne smiled as she saw you crusty and your brother bow. “This is our sister Daphne, Duchess of Hastings.” Making your eyes twinkle. “A pleasure to meet you two, my brother talked about you two, all nice things of course.” She smiled. 

“Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you.” You give her a delighted smile, making her giggle. “Please I have every intention of becoming friends with you, let us walk around?” Daphne offered her hand, making you smile at your brother, and walked away with her. 

“You talked about us?” Oliver looked at Anthony who kept his gaze on you, then broke away to look at him. “Of course, I’m trying to find you a wife.” He told him, making him scoff. “You and my sister are forcing me to find a wife–it is like you two are meant to be with all this pushing.” Oliver walked into the ballroom. 

As the ball began, you walked around talking to some ladies who gladly let you join them. You were quite the social butterfly, making you tired of talking sometimes. You excused yourself, wanting a beverage and looking for your brother. You watched as he flushed over the words of a young lady, making you smile. 

“Brother, enjoy your night?” You butt in, making him look at you. “Ah sister, yes! Let me introduce you two, Miss. Blackwood my sister.” Oliver smiled at the young brunette, not going unnoticed by you. “Hello, a pleasure to meet you.” You smile, making the young girl flush. “Likewise, If you don’t mind me asking, are you twins?” She hid her face behind her fan, making you giggle. “Yes, we are a set of twins,” Oliver confirms. 

“You are most fortunate to have a sibling.” She said, talking about how she had no siblings at the moment. “Are you very fond of children, Miss Blackwood?” You question her and she nods. “I love children! Whenever I’m in the country, I usually play with my cousin's kids.” She smiled.

“Then you might enjoy our other brother's presence!” You told her, making her confused. “Ah you see, just like me and my sister are twins, we also have little twin brothers, their names are Richard and Thoma.” Oliver’s smile grew fond of the thought of them. “Oh, I’d love to meet them.” She giggled. 

Anthony glanced at you every time he heard you laugh, wanting nothing but to walk over there and talk to you. Although this persistent mama denied him of doing so, his mother saw his inpatients. “Anthony! I need to talk to you!” She ushered him away, grabbing his arm in the process. “Dearest why are you making that face?” Violet spoke. 

“You must seem content in front of these guests, and talking about guests why haven’t you asked our guests to dance?” She scolded him before he could talk, making him frown. “Mother I was about to ask Ms. Clarke to dance but I simply got caught up with some people.” He reassured her, making her nod. 

“Where is she?” Violet looked around, making him do so as well. Anthony excused himself with his mother, making his way toward Oliver who was still chatting with Ms. Blackwood. “Oliver, have you seen your sister?”Anthony excused himself for interrupting their conversation. Oliver looked at him a bit confused but replied “She is checking up on Thomas and Richard, I think.” Oliver told him. 

Anthony nodded and walked away, leaving the ball unnoticed and quietly. He walked up the stairs making his way to the nursery. Just as he turned the hallway, you walked out. In your hands a tired Richard, who you struggling to carry, and a very sleepy Thomas.  “Thomas love, please stay awake so we can change you for bed.” You ruffle his hair and readjust Richard on your hip. 

You gasp as you feel someone grab Richard from your arms, and it shocked you when it was The Viscount. “My lord, you don’t have to!” You say as if his action were too much. “Don’t be silly, please let me help you.” Anthony smiled while crouching down to carry Thomas as well. You looked a bit worried, and he smiled reassuring you. 

You both walk to their assigned guest room, and after some pushing and pulling you are finally able to tuck them in with the help of Anthony. You huff, backing up a little right beside Anthony, you looked over towards him and smiled. “Thank you once again, My lord.” You smiled kindly. 

Anthony looked at your adoring lips, making him want nothing but to put his lips on them. “Anthony.” He whispered, making you look up at him once again. “Pardon?” You say, making him instantly repeat himself. “Please, call me Anthony.” He said now facing you directly. “Ms. Clarke, I’ll be honest with you–

I have nothing but respect for you.” He said looking at you sincerely, making you straighten up. “Yesterday night, I meant what I said–I understand you very well.” He expressed, resulting in your breath hitching. “I understand your so felt burden of taking care of your sibling and to be frank, I honestly relate my problems so much to yours,” Anthony whispered lightly, not wanting to wake up the children. 

You looked up at him in amazement, making him open his mouth but no words came out. Your heart was palpitating so hard, that you felt like a character who was about to be confessed to. Anthony straightened his posture, as he cleared his throat. “To be honest, I fell deeply in love with your motherly intuition, I don’t know how to explain it but my heart eases up when you take care of your sibling so easily,” Anthony confessed, making him flush red.

“I must say it made me love you differently now, and– god it’s so unlike me, but I fell in love in just three nights.” He became once again flush in color. 

You too were flushed with red, making you put a hand on your chest, feeling it–actually, it was beating so hard you swear you could hear it. “Anthony, I, well, I don’t know how to feel.” You look at him, then away.

“When my brother accepted the invitation, I thought of them having the necessary time off, I did not come here for my benefit.” You told him. “Though I am happy, I ended up getting something.” As you utter the last syllables of your sentence, Anthony looks at you. 

“W-What I meant, I feel the same way, Anthony, I do hope you can court me the right way, once I get back to Mayfair.” You smiled fondly as you grabbed his arm. Making him nod slowly “It would be an honor to.” Anthony smiled, feeling somewhat relieved that his feelings were reciprocated. 

As the two walk back down, arms linked, the whole Ton looks at the pair in bewilderment. However, Anthony didn’t care, offering his hand to you and a gentle smile. “May I have this dance, Ms. Clarke?” He smiled, making you giggled and accept his advance. “Of course, My lord.” Then the two of you dance the night away.

At the end of the night, you told your brother you retiring to bed, he nodded and you excused yourself. Your heels bore into your heel and you sighed at the sight of your guest room door. As you passed the library that held the memory of you and Anthony, you can’t help but smile. Entering the room with your heels in hand, you wander the bookshelf, ah there it was, Pride and Prejudice. 

You smile at the light conversation you made between Anthony about the book. You place the hardcover book back before walking out the door, only to find the man you had semi-confessed your love to at the end of the hall, this time he was retiring to bed. 

You two smile as you connect once again, this time he walks you to your guest room. That night you had kissed him goodnight on his cheek, making him still as a statue, but quickly snapping out of it as he heard your brother making him wau towards you two. 

The moment felt pure and delightful, you tucked yourself into bed and after tossing and turning, you’d admit, you were far too happy about what just had happened. Tonight felt like a fever dream, and it was something you nor Anthony never wanted to forget. 

Anthony laid in bed as an uttered mess, as his nightshirt was visibly discarded as he laid shirtless. Simply too hot, and was practically melting because of the action you made on him. He would lay there, dragging his fingertips on his cheek. He knew in the morning you would be gone, already on your way home, and he would be mourning, trying to hold on to the memories of your lips. 

God, he is so lovesick. 

So lovesick, he simply started courting you the week you had just come back from Aubrey Hall, with of course the blessing of your three younger brothers.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made. 

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.  

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world. 

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure. 

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about. 

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up. 

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things. 

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength. 

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded. 

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.” 

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that. 

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was. 

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone. 

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose. 

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know. 

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile. 

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared. 

Y/N gagged at the reminder. 

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

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general. 

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership. 

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover. 

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened. 

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up. 

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand. 

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend? 

A lot. That’s what it was. 

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed. 

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit. 

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too. 

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings. 

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you. 

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling. 

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta. 

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.” 

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago. 

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him. 

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer. 

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel. 

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything. 

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved. 

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair. 

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave. 

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Two

Featuring : (future) Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Amarantha is dead and you finally get to go home. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You felt your magic return to you the day Amarantha died. It was such an ordinary day.

You were in your cabin, that Eris had found for you the moment your wings were burned. You couldn't return to the Night Court without putting yourself in danger of Amarantha finding you, so you stayed in Autumn.

You were cooking when it washed over you, feeling as if you could finally breath again. You tested your abilities, seeing how much you could do. You were able to engulf the entire room in darkness when you were satisfied it returned.

You lost hope 10 years prior, when one of the local villagers said that all of Amarantha's court was bound to Under the Mountain. That meant you wouldn't be getting anymore visits from Eris, and even in the 40 years before that, those were few and far between. You were lucky Autumn Court was on her "good" side, because she never looked too deep into the woods. From what Eris told you, Rhys had taken her to bed.

You knew Rhys, and you could guess that he did it to keep her eyes from turning towards the Night Court. Towards you. Or Velaris.

So, you lived your simple life. The cabin Eris gave you came with a horse, that you would take to and from the local village. You were able to maintain a garden. And the best thing about living in Autumn was you never had to brace a bad winter or a sweltering summer. You missed the seasons dearly, you missed Solstices and Starfalls. Most of all, you missed your family.

It still haunted you that Rhys was taking on the burden of the Night Court by himself. You wished you could be there with him.

And, the rest of your family was running Velaris. Without you. You had to wonder if Azriel and Mor ended up together, being trapped in the beautiful, romantic city all these years. You wouldn't if Azriel regretted leaving you that night. Or if he was happy you were gone.

One thing you couldn't get over, even after all these years, was that he left you. Sure, you could handle yourself, but he left you. His best friend. Even when you were young, you always wanted to be around Azriel. Once Cassian and Rhys stopped tormenting him, you were allowed to be around him. He was always the first one to show you techniques with his sword, or new flying maneuvers. But then Mor came alone, slept with Cassian, and that was it. Azriel had been pining after her since then. You weren't resentful of it until he left you the night everything went to shit. When you lost your magic and your ability to fly.

Even know, when the wind was raging in the forest, you teared up. You wish there was some way to be able to fly again. But you grew up in the Illyrian war camp with your mother and brother. You knew what destroyed tendons looked like. There was no hope. Even after Eris and his healers did everything they could to heal them as best as they could. The membrane was in tact, albeit thinner than normal, and you had full function of stretching them in and out. But, the proper strength to fly would never be resorted.

At least you had your magic back. And you waited for Eris to come find you, to placate his father enough that he had time to tell you what happened. You assumed, knowing the depletion of magic was tied to Amarantha, that she died. You really hoped that was the case. You could go home. You could see your brother. You could ignore Azriel for the rest of your life. It never even occurred to you that you could probably winnow back home. You hadn't been able to do it for a long time.

Instead of Eris bursting through the door that afternoon, it was shadows, followed by a heaving Azriel trying to catch his breath.

"(Y/N)!" Azriel exclaimed, bounding over to you. Before you had a chance to step away, he wrapped you in an embrace. One you couldn't help but melt into. You might be mad at him, but after 50 years of being apart, you were happy to see him.

You pulled away, seeing tears in Azriel's eyes as he looked you over. His eyes landed on your wings. "What did they do to you?" He asked, searching your eyes.

"After you left me that night, three of Beron's sentinels burned my wings." You said, taking a deep breath.

"I need to write a note, and then you can take me home. Is Rhys there yet?" You asked.

"I don't know, I've spent all day having my shadows look for you. I was hoping you made it to Winter... I didn't think you would still be here." He said, pausing as you started to write.

You wrote to Eris, letting him know that you would be going back to the Night Court. You also told him that you would support him if he ever needed anything. You tucked the note into an envelop and left it on the counter.

"Okay... can you winnow us?" You asked, holding out your hand.

He gazed over you again, unsaid words clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). For everything. For leaving you. For not coming to get you-"

"Azriel.. please.. take me home. And then we can talk about it." You said.

He nodded, staring at you for a few moments before he took you hand and darkness enveloped you both.

Rhys was pissed.

He may have been happy to see his family, and to tell Mor and you about how he found his mate (even if she was with Tamlin), but the instant he saw your wings, he knew something was wrong. Before even asking the rest of his family what happened, he pulled you into a room alone.

After recapping what happened Under the Mountain, and more tearful hellos, he asked you to sit down. "Tell me what happened." He said.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. "That night that Amarantha took your magic, and you closed the borders to Velaris, I got stuck in Autumn. Azriel had left to go help Mor with something. I couldn't even winnow to the Night Court borders." You told him what happened with the sentinels, how Eris found you, and then watched as Rhys settled into the quiet deathly rage.

"He did this to you?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

"No," you quickly corrected. "Eris helped me." There were tears in your eyes now. "He- Let me just tell you how it started..."

Eris brought you to a cabin on the outskirts of the Autumn borders, close to a village but far enough that no one would look for you here. He had his best healers come to help heal you, but with their lack ox experience repairing wings, they couldn't completely heal them. You back even still had scarring on it from how hot the sentinels burned through them.

When Eris couldn't stay because Amarantha sent for all High Lords and their heirs, he had a healer stay with you. Until you were back to your normal health. And then, he offered to help you get to the Night Court. Said he would personally take you to the Moonstone Palace. But he warned you how cruel Amarantha already was, and how she was taking more and more people prisoner (to be part of her "court") Under the Mountain. You chose to stay in the cabin. If you couldn't go back to Velaris, you didn't want to go to the Night Court. Not when your brother was actively trying to get Amarantha to avoid it. The return of the Lady of the Night Court would surely set her eyes towards you. And Rhys would pay the price.

Eris would visit you as often as he could. Since Autumn was on Amarantha's good side, she let Eris and his brothers out more. When he was able to step away from the Forest House, he would visit you. Bring you more supplied, new clothes, sometimes even new furniture or paint to refresh the cabin. All the while, he kept you up to date on what was happened. One day, you asked why he was helping you.

"Because I can... and it was my family's sentinels that harmed you. You had no one else around. If you were to die out here, what would I tell you brother? It would have caused an even worse relationship between us. And I'm hoping to have his support when I overthrow my father. If we can tackle Amarantha first... and.. I'm hoping one day you can counsel your brother to help me as well." He explained.

"So you're helping me for your own gain?" You asked.

"I'm helping you because it's the right thing to do... and I've grown fond of this little escape." He answered.

That's how it was until three courts tried to rebel, and Amarantha barred anyone from leaving Under the Mountain. Even Eris. You wondered why he hadn't shown up when you went into the village to grab some more food, when you overheard the rumors.

"He truly helped you? He never hurt you?" Rhys asked.

You shook your head. "No, he never hurt me. He never tried anything. He... was kind. And caring. And I owe him my life." You said, looking up at Rhys.

He nodded, thinking for a moment. He paused his pacing and looking at you dead in the eyes. "Azriel left you?" He asked, seeming to recall what you first told him.

"...Yes." You said after hesitating.

"I'm going to kill him." He growled.

Your heart skipped a beat, knowing Rhys might just well kill Azriel for putting you in harms way.

"Wait- no. Please.. go easy on him." You said.

He paused, taking a deep breath. Darkness was pooling around his ankles. You could tell he was trying to reel it in. "I'm going to beat him to a pulp."

Better than killing him, you thought. You relaxed for a moment before Rhys rushed out from the door. You chased after him to see the first blow to Azriel's face. Then to his gut. Then to his legs to knock him on the floor. All while Rhys growled out in between each punch,"You. Left. My. Sister. In. Autumn?!"

Azriel didn't even fight back.

Part Three

A/N: Another tough one... I think this will have 1 or 2 more parts... which I probably won't get to writing until Sunday or Monday night (I know, i'm sorry!) Thank you all so much for your support!

Tagging: @feiwelinchen @circe143 @sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @buttermilktea11 @tele86 @yearninglustfully @bunnyredgirl

Main Masterlist

[phantlvs]

Dabi / Touya Todoroki | Brother of Mine

Phantom Notes | PLATONIC, more fem!reader, visiting Dabi in hospital, Dabi survived, Todoroki reader, reader is younger than Shoto, just roll with stuff that doesn’t necessarily make sense, I’m not at all caught up in mha

Fuyumi sighed, watching you, “Please, be careful..” Her voice was soft. She wasn’t planning to stop you. She knew she couldn’t. You were stubborn. A trait almost all of her sibling had.

You looked over your shoulder at her, a soft smile reaching your lips after a moment when you turned to look at her, “Don’t worry, Yumi. I’ll be fine.” You told her.

Fuyumi sighed again, reaching out to grab your hand when you offered it to her. You held her hand for a moment before letting it slip out of her grip and exiting the home that was never truly a home.

Fuyumi was the only thing that made it a home for you.

Fuyumi was the only sense of stability you had.

Your mother was in the mental hospital for a majority of your life before of Endeavor. Shoto was always training with him. You’d see him crying a lot. And honestly, you were jealous when UA implemented dorms. He was able to get out.

But you were only a year younger than him. Too young to go to UA yet.

You looked at your phone when it buzzed.

> Yumi (7:23 am): Be. Careful.

You rolled your eyes, putting your phone away and looking across from you where you sat on the bus.

“Mama,” a little girl pulled on her mother’s sleeve, “Mama.”

“What?” Her mother looked down at the girl.

“Want ice cream.” The little girl told her.

The mother looked down at her for a moment before a soft smile came to her face, “Alright. We can get some ice cream.”

You watched the two. You hated moments like these. Moments when your attention would move to fathers and/or mother with their children. Fathers and mothers who loved their kids. Who would do anything for them.

Mothers who weren’t abused. Fathers who weren’t abusers.

You were jealous. Even if you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

The bus came to a stop. You stood from your seat, staying a moment to help an elderly woman just getting on sit down where you had sat.

You looked up at the hospital. No doubt bustling inside.

“Hello,” the woman greeted you.

“Hi.” You gave her a soft smile.

“Will you be visiting today?” She asked, clicking a few buttons on the computer before moving to grab a piece of paper and a clip board.

“Yeah, I will.” You told her, taking the clipboard and pen out of her hand.

“That’s nice,” she smiled. She looked sweet. “What’s your name and who will you be visiting?”

“My name is Y/n Todoroki, and. Um..” You hesitated for a moment. You had never said his name before. “I’ll be visiting Touya.. Todoroki..” Hour voice was soft. But she heard it.

You knew she did. Her eyes widened and lips fell agape as she stared at you. “Alright just.. Fill out the paper there.” She told you, trying to keep the shock off of her face. She was unsuccessful.

You nodded, moving over in case anyone else were to come in.

You scribbled down your name, your age, your quirk. And you paused over name of who your visiting and their information.

‘How do I know him?’ You said your yourself in your head. It was a checklist. You could check off how you knew them.

⬜️ Father

⬜️ Mother

⬜️ Brother

⬜️ Sister

⬜️ Friend

⬜️ Other

Your hand froze over the ‘brother.’ Could you even call him that? You were born after he ‘died.’ You never knew him apart from any story Fuyumi told you. Natsuo would avoid the topic any chance he got.

You scribbled in the box, handing the paper over to the woman at the desk.

“Okay, um..” she looked over the paper. “5th floor, room 538.” She told you, giving you a glance.

“Okay, thank you.” You told her, giving a soft smile she reciprocated before you moved to walk away.

You stood quietly in the elevator, clicking buttons people who would get on asked for.

“Papa,” your gaze moved to the little boy holding on to his father’s hand. His father hummed. “Will mama be okay?” Your heart practically broke as you listened silently.

“Yeah..” The father responded after a moment, “She’ll be fine..” His voice was quiet, as if he was trying to convince himself too.

The ding of the elevator set off. You looked up to see what floor it was. 5.

You felt a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach. Like a weed in a garden. You let out a soft breath as you moved forward, exiting the elevator.

The floor was quiet for the most part. You listened to the sound of your shoes as you walked. Looking into some rooms as you passed.

503.

504.

You looked down at the floor.

515.

516.

517.

518.

You let out a shaky breath, looking at your feet again.

528.

529.

530.

You flexed your hands. Clenching them and unclenching them. Popping your fingers.

536.

537.

538.

You froze in front of the room. Staring at the number. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The door was cracked open, but not enough you could see anything or anyone.

You shuffled a foot moved, going to knock on the door but hesitating.

You shook your head gently. Trying to shake out your nerves which didn’t work.

Your fist settled on the door a few times in a soft knock. At least just trying to make anyone aware you were about to come in.

You pushed the door open gently and slowly. Almost cautiously. Almost fearfully.

You peeked in when you could see more, you saw him in bed.

You could tell how much pain he was in.

His eyes were just barely open. His gaze settled over at the door.

You pushed the door open a bit farther, moving just a bit into the room so he could see you a bit better and you could see him a bit better.

He stared.

You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Who in the hell are you?” His voice was hoarse.

“I..” you looked up at him quickly, almost startled. “I’m um..” you let out a soft breath. “Y/n Todoroki.”

You almost saw what you assumed might be shock.

“I um..” you weren’t sure what to say. You probably planned out some like.. speech or something.

“Well you’ve grown up.” His voice broke your thoughts.

“What..?” You asked softly.

“You’ve grown.” He said, voice quieter.

You moved out of the doorway and a little farther into the hospital room.

“You look like mom.” He said abruptly.

You paused, staring at him for a moment.

In truth, you looked a lot like Fuyumi too. But the red in your hair was more scattered around, at your roots, the middle, and the tips.

You inherited your mom’s gray eyes too.

“You think..?” You asked softly. Almost awkwardly. You fidgeted with your hands at your front.

“Yeah..” He spoke, his gaze traveling over your face. “Especially the eyes.”

You looked down at your hands for a quick moment.

“You can see your emotions in your eyes.” He said, “Just like mom.”

You moved to grab a chair, moving it closer to the side of his bed before you sat down.

“How..” you looked at him. “How is she?” He asked, voice still hoarse. You stared at him for a moment.

“She’s.. She’s well.” You told him with a curt nod. “She was finally released from the Psychiatric ward. Just a little while before..” You paused.

“The war.” He finished your sentence.

“Yeah..” Your voice was quiet.

A silence fell over the room. One that wasn’t so uncomfortable, but very awkward for you.

“Why are you here?” He asked bluntly.

“I..” you looked at him. “I just..” you looked down for a moment. You took in a breath, calming yourself down.

You were alone a lot. Being the youngest in the Todoroki family was undoubtedly hard. Not as hard as being any of the oldest, but..

You were pushed to the side. Endeavor had gotten the quirk he wanted out of Shoto and he put all of his attention and time and effort into Shoto. He didn’t care about you.

Natsuo was always trying to get away from the house. Rei was in the Psychiatric Ward a majority of your life.

Fuyumi was all you had. She took it upon herself to raise you.

“I’m in your debt Fuyumi,” you told your older sister.

“Huh!” She looked at you, almost startled. “What! Don’t even say that!”

“You raised me, that wasn’t your job, Yumi.” You told her, “therefore, I am in your debt!”

“I was just worried about you.” You finally said.

“Worried..?” He repeated, looking over at you. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry for what Endeavor did..” You told him abruptly, looking down.

“Don’t apologize for that asshole,” he told you.

“I’m not apologizing for him,” you said. “I’m apologizing for what you had to go through.”

He was at a loss for words as he stared at you. You were stubborn. It was so easy to tell.

You were stubborn like him and Natsuo.

But the care in your eyes.. that was undoubtedly like Fuyumi’s.

That’s a dangerous combination. The stubbornness of him and Natsuo and the caring kindness of Fuyumi.

He let out a huff. “What’s your quirk?”

“Scalding Frost.” You told him, “I can create a frost like mom’s, but it’s all incredibly hot so the frost melts almost instantly. But I can control the hot water once it melts.”

“Hm..” he hummed.

You sat in the quiet for awhile. You staring down at your fidgeting hands, him stuck in his thoughts while staring at the plain ceiling.

You looked Rei. You had her eyes you could see every emotion in. You could see all the care, all the worry.

He saw it immediately when you had peeked into the hospital room.

“You give Endeavor hell?” He asked abruptly.

“Huh?” You looked at him before getting what he meant, “Oh!” You practically lit up. “Mhm, mhm,” you hummed while nodding your head. “I can’t give him hell like Natsuo or Shoto. But I give him the cold shoulder a lot!”

“Heh,” a lazy smirk of amusement came reached his lips, “good.”

Your eyes widened slightly. He looked. Almost proud.. Proud that you would give your so called father the cold shoulder.

Your heart warmed.

He was.. Proud. Proud of you. You..

“I should probably get going!” You stood up abruptly.

He looked at you.

“I’ll try to visit again tomorrow,” you promised, looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved you off.

“No,” He looked at you, “I’m going to visit again tomorrow!” You told him stubbornly. “I just have training, but I’ll visit after that!”

@phantlvs

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Hearts Entangled

Summary: With the declining rate of omegas, alphas have become desperate, and betas are fighting back. In the midst of war, Y/N and her brother get separated and Y/N finds herself in trouble.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader x Alpha Steve

Warnings: Violence mentioned, Blood

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Not beta’d. First time writing in the first person, but it suits the storytelling better this time around. What POV do you guys like best? Should I change the POV? Do I know where this is going? Absolutely not but let's go! Enjoy this from the vault.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

The world slows when you’re dying. The mind struggles to grasp anything tangible. Staring up at the blur of blue and white, I knew I was slipping away, fading into nothing, just like my mother. Bitten by an alpha, she changed, presented as an alpha herself. My father put her down before she could turn feral. That sent Basil into a frenzy. He nearly killed our father. He would have if I wasn’t in the room. It didn’t matter if alphas and betas were at war. It didn’t matter if our mother was the enemy; to us, she was just mom.

Basil might have aided the humans in the war if it hadn’t been for our mother’s murder. His need for vengeance was too great. Omegas are a rarity nowadays. The news is a montage of horror, always reporting on how many alphas turned humans. Omegas were already a dying species, but with the war, so were the alphas. My brother feared if I was bitten, that our father would murder me as well. Basil always joked that I was like mom, stubborn.  Maybe I should have listened to him when he told me to stay home. Maybe if I hadn’t gone searching for him when he didn’t come home last night, my hand wouldn’t be sticky with my own blood.

A hiss followed by a low whine escaped my lips as my hand pressed into the wound on my side. I had to get home. What if Basil returned after I left? He would never know what happened to me; no one would. Well, no one except the guy who shot me.

SNAP.

My head rolled to the side, peering through the trees. Details were a blur, but I was able to make out blotches of color. I squinted my eyes, dirt and rocks stabbing my cheek, reminding me I wasn’t dead yet. My chest heaved as the trees danced before me.

SNAP.

This time the noise was closer. Whatever was coming to finish me off didn’t care about being caught. It wasn’t like I could defend myself if I tried. I hoped it was just an animal or somehow my brother had magically found me; the sane part of my brain screamed that it was the person who shot me.

It was none of the above.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder. I could feel the heat seep through the sleeve of my crimson-stained t-shirt. Blinking slowly at the person crouched beside me, I wanted to speak, but my lips weren't moving. His were. Whatever he was saying, I couldn't make out. I was too stunned to attempt to read his lips, but I knew he was non-threatening. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t-

A shrill scream reverberated through the woods.

My chest burned from the inside out, and I knew that scream came from me. With slow movements, I gazed down at my stomach. One of the stranger’s hands sealed over my own. The other held my chin, blood coating both of his hands. I tried to follow the pink of his lips, to make sense of anything he was saying. I strained to focus on the yellow of his hair or the blue orbs observing my every move. In the end, my eyes flapped shut.

Searing pain dashed up my right arm drowning out any other pain. Just as quickly as it emerged, it evaporated. Suddenly my lungs were flooded with oxygen, my breath livelier than before. Fresh linen suffocated my nostrils. Had I died? The lids of my eyes tremored before springing open. For the first time, I could see him clearly. His slicked-back yellow hair paled into champagne. His slightly overgrown beard was several shades darker. His nostrils flared.

“Omega,” the man purred.

My eyes latched on his piercing stare. Amid his blue eyes were flecks of green. He was gorgeous. I was the first to break eye contact, my focus glued to my arm. Teeth marks tattooed on the inside of my wrist. Panic invaded all of my senses. Basil’s worst fears were coming true right before my eyes.

“You were dying-” the man trailed off. “It won't scar.”

“You expect me to thank you?” I snarled.

He shook his head, running his dry, blood-stained fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to turn you. I was trying to lure the betas away. You got mixed in the crossfire.”

I wanted to ask if he had been the one to shoot me, but from what I could tell, he wasn’t carrying a gun. His back straightened as he scanned the trees. I didn’t see anything, but his body language turned alert. Danger was approaching.

“What’s your name?”

He stared down at me for a moment before responding, “Steve. Steve Rogers. You?”

I stretched my scarlet hand towards him. “Y/N L/N. Thank you.”

Steve paused with a raised eyebrow, gently shaking my hand. “We have to go. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He didn’t wait for an answer; Steve thrust my hands back against the hole in my side. “Keep pressure on the wound.” Then he was hoisting me up. Once again, my world was spinning. My head relaxed against his collarbone. The scent of fresh linen was more prominent but far from unpleasant. My muscles went limp, too relaxed to hold onto the man carrying me. Steve tensed, his grip tightening around my back and legs. A deep rumble ricocheted beneath my head, but I couldn’t make out what Steve said. How much blood did I lose? A drop of liquid sprinted from my scalp to the collar of my t-shirt. With a shaky hand, I wiped the fluid from my forehead. It was clear. Was I sweating? My palm lazily rested against Steve’s chest in an attempt to ground myself. I would have retracted my hand had I been stronger. The heat radiating from his chest was scorching. It was then that I realized I was burning up. His name was on the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t sure what I would say, but I hoped he would somehow understand. I never got to find out. His name never left my lips. My eyelids grew heavy, welcoming the darkness.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was blinded. A string of recessed lights hovered above me. Harsh blue lights beat down on my skin, reminding me of how my skin burned. I felt drenched, but this time, I was cool. Sinking my palms into the surface beneath me, I realized I was lying on a mattress. Sitting upright, something slipped from my arms. Reaching over the side of the bed, I hissed, pain radiating from my side.

“Take it easy,” a thick Russian accent uttered. “You don't want to tear stitches.”

With a hand over my stitches, I scanned the room for the voice. When I came up empty, I panted, rolling myself onto my back.

“Where am I?”

I jumped as a raven-haired woman suddenly appeared crouched beside the bed. Her piercing blue eyes were cold, unlike the man who saved me. Steve. Where was Steve?

“Medical wing,” the woman answered, plucking a damp cloth from the floor and dropping it on my arm. “Keep this on. It will stop fever.”

I blinked at the woman as she examined my wrist. She was tall and slender. Her jaw was as sharp as a razor, a stark contrast to her soft plump lips. Taking a deep breath, I was met with lavender. It was soothing yet sweet.

“You’re an omega?”

She hummed, dropping my hand a bit harsher than necessary.

“Who are you? Where’s Steve?” I croaked.

Her sharp eyes stared down at me with a lifted brow. She didn’t seem to want to be here anymore than I did.

“You talk a lot, no?”

Fuck this. I have to go home. I need to find Basil. Sitting up ignoring my groans of pain, I began yanking all of the damp rags from my skin. It’s not like they could keep me here. The corners of the woman's lips twitched as she folded her arms across her chest and stepped back. She wasn’t going to stop me. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hit the black tile. A cramp shot through my abdomen, strong enough to bring me to my knees had I not been holding onto the bed. Sweat began to bead along my forehead. I was lightheaded. Not again.

Before I could faint, an arm swooped around my back, guiding me onto the bed. Once again, I was draped in rags.

“You’re a stubborn little omega.” I would have snapped had it not been for the smile in the woman's tone. It reminded me of every time my brother had called me stubborn. In a way, it was soothing. “I’m Carla.” She paused, eyeing the shut door. “You don’t want to see that mutt right now. You’re in heat. Happens when you present.”

“But Steve-”

“Is mutt like rest of alphas around an omega, especially one in heat.” There was a bite in Carla’s tone. “If you want to leave, I won't stop you but trust me when I say you are better off here. Omegas are difficult to come by and you are already weak from gunshot. You’ll be claimed second you step out that door.”

My head reeled from all of the information. I wasn’t oblivious to the alpha and omega lifestyles, but I never intended to partake in it. My eyes flickered to the mating gland along her neck. Sensing my stare, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, concealing her gland. It was too late.

“You haven’t been claimed.”

The look in Carla’s eyes was murderous, her words a warning, “Mind your business, omega. You are patient, not me. I am helping you, not other way around. Remember that.”

I did. For the next week, while I was trapped in a delirious state, I relied on Carla. She was the only person to visit me in the medical room. It had been her delivering food or redressing my bandages. I began to crave her presence, but we rarely spoke. The observation I had made had struck a chord, a weak spot. Every time Carla entered the room, she appeared more on edge than the day before. I contemplated apologizing for bringing up what appeared to be a sore subject for her, but she didn’t seem like the type to dwell on something like that.

When my heat was finally over, Carla left the door unlocked. Her speechless way of allowing visitors or letting me wander. I opted for the latter. After several twists and turns, I discovered a door leading outside. Careful not to pull my stitches, I sprinted out the door. After being trapped in a room for a week, I was desperate to feel the sun on my skin again. Standing in an open field, I spun around taking in everything. A few feet away was a forest. Was it the one I had been dying in? How far was I from home?

“Hey, you’re up.” A shoulder bumped into my own. “How are you feeling?”

Fresh linen.

A smile crept onto my lips, my neck craning up to Steve. “Well, I’m alive.”

Steve nodded. “I can see that.”

“Thank you again, for saving me. I would have died out there if you hadn’t found me.”

Steve shook his head, his thumbs peeking from the pockets of his slacks. “You almost died because of me. That bullet was meant for me.”

Turning back to the line of trees, I shrugged off his last statement. I needed to focus on the positive. I was alive. It didn’t stop my curiosity from slipping into the front of my brain. “When you found me, you said you were drawing humans away.”

The man nodded, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “A friend of mine, Bucky, went missing. I was out searching for him when I came across you.”

Steve stood there with a far-off look in his eyes. I hadn't missed the sadness that crossed his face. His eyes searched the horizon with a sense of urgency as if the person or object he was searching for was the most important thing in the world.

“Your friend,” I paused, side-eyeing him, “did you find him?”

Steve shook his head, his eyes still trained on the forest. “Your arrival hasn’t exactly permitted me to travel.” The tips of his ears dusted a shade of pink.

I blushed at the idea of sending a man like Steve Rogers into a rut. Surely, he was mated.

“Sorry for leaving you with Carla. We don't have many omegas here. I can't imagine she was cordial the entire time.”

Remembering Carla’s comment, I gently rested a hand on Steve’s bicep. My hand dwarfed in comparison to the muscle beneath my hand. Steve’s head snapped in my direction.

“Omegas are rare, but she isn’t mated,” I pointed out.

Peaking over his shoulder toward the door, Steve released a deep exhale. “Her true mate rejected their bond. By the time she had found him, he already had a family. Didn’t want to break up the only family his pups knew.”

My hand slipped from his bicep as guilt washed over me. My head drooped to stare at the ground. Had I known, I wouldn’t have said anything to her about being unclaimed. It was a personal topic. Suddenly, a feather-light touch seized my chin, dragging my head upwards. My eyes locked on Steve’s deep blue orbs instantly.

“Don’t worry, she found another mate. One who wants her. My friend Bucky.”

“The one who is missing,” I asked, but I already knew the answer. No wonder Carla was on edge. Her mate was missing. Yet, I couldn’t help but think back to her smooth mating gland. Her mate had yet to claim her.

Steve nodded.

Subconsciously, I ran a hand along my mating gland. “And where is your mate?”

Steve released my chin as if I had burned him. His gaze returned to the trees. I should have learned my lesson from Carla. I should have minded my business, but I needed to know.

“My true mate,” Steve began, surprising me. I didn’t think he would answer. I followed his line of sight, giving him a sense of privacy, but my ears remained open. Steve continued, “was Peggy. She tried to put an end to the war. She’s dead now.”

There it was. I had once again managed to put my foot in my mouth. “I'm sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t known the pain of losing a true mate, but I knew love and I knew loss. It couldn’t be much different.

The atmosphere grew still as Steve lapsed into a prolonged silence. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze. His face turned skyward, allowing his long eyelashes to kiss his high cheekbones for a split second. Then his hand intertwined with mine, pulling me down to sit beside him in the grass.

“What were you doing in the woods when I found you?”

I had to bite my tongue from saying I was dying. It wasn’t appropriate after he opened up about his true mate. He was trying to change the subject, so I was honest. I pressed my chin to my chest, plucking at the grass beside me. “I was looking for my brother. I have to find him.”

A painful smile graced Steve’s lips. “I guess we're both looking for someone.”

While the statement was innocent, there was a longing in the way he said it. We both needed a mate.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I whispered.

Next Chapter

[lullaebies]

Aegon III and Jaehaera had known from the night they should've consumated their marriage, that they never will — their one agreement had always been to reach an age they can petition for annulment.

When the time comes, it is harder to come to terms with it than expected. read on ao3. 💚

Annulment.

It is all Jaehaera ever wanted, as far as she remembers. The moment her grandmother died, she had been struck with how helpless she was in this Red Keep of terrors. Attempts on her life were made, more than once. Her Father may have once begrudgingly agreed to her betrothal, but he had not once thought it would come to fruition.

Made Queen at a young age, to a boy who shares her father’s namesake but could never share affection with her, she had always figured it would be easier to leave. To Oldtown, the home her grandmother always praised, or anywhere else, far, far away.

Her husband, surprisingly, never disagreed with this idea. She had been twelve, when they first had this conversation. She just had her first moonblood, and had been truly ready to pull a knife on her King if he tried to touch her in any capacity. 

Yet Aegon the Third reached for nobody, and the same night he stood by her and disavowed any vow their marriage had been founded on. He had been fifteen, the age her father already held her and her late twin in his arms, but he had no thirst for flesh of anybody — and most exceptionally, not of her.

That night had been the first time he made her cry. Cry of joy, that is; he told her he will not take her, and instead, that he is willing to listen and help her to where she may wish to take herself. That it may take time, but they could annul the marriage on grounds of it providing no children, given she is willing to wait and accept infertility as a guise.

Jaehaera was not stupid then nor now. She knows that he could kick her or axe her for false treasons if he wanted. He had given her a fair choice, for a respectful setting aside. Grandmother may have been disappointed in her, for not carving his heart out his chest and fighting for the crown, but he offered her easy freedom. And she wanted it so badly.

“You’ll be allowed to leave wherever you want. I swear you this on my mother’s memory.”

She cared none for his mother nor her memory, but she had known this opportunity is all she could ask for. She accepted it when she was twelve, not knowing if he would be true to his word, but alas, the time came.

Dressed in the darkest of colors in broad daylight, he comes to her rooms one day with an enchanting, rare smile on his pallored face. 

“The Small Council had brought up the issue of an heir,” he tells her. “I believe it is time for our ploy.”

Jaehaera inhales deeply, before rising from her seat. She smiles at him back.

—

Aegon is rather content with himself as he walks about the Keep.

He is twenty years of age, and his councilmen are livid with him. He had been recluse from holding courts, and hearing petitions; Viserys had to drag him by the ear to the ugly chair of swords. ‘ You do not appear enough in public, they are berating you in the streets!’ is a common complaint he hears, ever so directly only from Viserys, but in softer words from the councilmen at all times. 

Well, the councilmen can go piss on another tree, as do the common folk. He will grant Viserys some leverage alone, he does truly care, but gods, his chastising can be irritating .

He does not count more than three of his steps before he hears his brother rushing beside him.

“Aegon,” he rushes after him. “Are you listening to me? It’s preposterous!”

“What is?” he asks. The part where I told the Council I am to request annulment from the High Septon, or the part I named you heir for the while?

“You know damn well what is,” he says. “You just sent these schemers into a frenzy. They’ll pull women out of the depths of their grimy castle and blasted families to toss at you.”

“They would’ve done so anyways,” Aegon answers plainly. “Our lords of the Small Council are not men of great beauty. I cannot imagine any runs in their family lines. I only hope they’re reasonable to understand any rejection to come.” 

They enter his solar, and Viserys closes the door before giving him the most pronounced frown he can muster.

“I did not agree to being heir,” he says.

“Troublesome,” Aegon answers, sitting down on a chair. “To you, that is.”

“No, it is troublesome that you refuse to do your own duties,” Viserys says. “I think I do enough for you to not treat me like this.”

“You do enough to take over,” Aegon answers. “Why are you this contentious? You’ll do well with that. Little Aegon would be King.”

“Little Aegon spat on me today in order to escape his reading lessons. That is a grim future,” he says. “And you spit on me and your wife of nine years in the process of doing this.”  

“I didn’t know you as a fan of Jaehaera,” Aegon raises his brow. “Nine years with no heir are enough to know one is not likely to come.”

“Our cousin has lesser qualities, but none of those influence the fact you don’t know where to put it in,” Viserys answers back. Aegon glares at him; he may have never truly touched Jaehaera, but he shared her bed enough for it to be convincing that they tried. His brother is just being a prick — or alternately simply sees through him. Aegon is appreciative of neither option. Viserys glares back. “There was a purpose to your marriage. And there will be consequences to future generations of our family if we dangle that throne in front of our children. Stability, is what matters to this realm. Not your damn whims.”

Aegon bites his lips. He hates it when his brother makes his points. More than often he is correct. However, Aegon had done all he could to find a solution that would allow him and Jaehaera the freedom they promised one another. I swore.

“I have no children, Viserys,” Aegon answers.

Viserys scoffs. “Because you wish to live as if you are dead, and you wish me complicit in letting you do so,” he spits back at him. “I’m not your heir. If you want to set our cousin aside, find a wife of good repute and family to replace her.”

Viserys walks out of the room in stomps mightier than stallions at stampedes, and Aegon rubs his temples. 

Seven hells.

—

Aegon finds Jaehaera in his rooms later that day, waiting by the fireplace. He cannot say he had expected her; she doesn’t come here if she doesn’t need to. The creak of the door makes her turn to him, her nightdress and robe swiping against the floor. Almost immediately she rushes up to him.

“I am getting pitying looks,” she tells him, and her eyes are bright with curiosity of all things. He had allowed her a prior warning that he is setting things to motion for this reason exactly. She may not resent it, but others would take offense for her. That being said, she is mighty jolly for a woman talking of being looked down on. “Did you tell them?”

“I have declared intentions,” he answers her. “Some are unhappy, and some are most happy, but regardless they are stewing over it and will accept it soon enough.” 

Jaehaera nods, breathing in some disbelief. “Is it that easy?” she asks. “Do I need to do something?” The jitter in her limbs is noticeable, she fiddles with her hands in some liveliness. 

“Nothing in particular,” he says, moving past her to sit by his desk. “I need to petition the High Septon, and quarrel some more with Viserys, but you only need wait,” he says. “Though it may be counterproductive for you to be here. That does not give the impression of giving up on a marriage.”

Jaehaera huffs at that, walking over to him. “Why should you mind? They’ll be thinking I am begging you to decide differently,” she says. “I will be the one to suffer their prying eyes, as it is.” 

“Anyone who thinks you’d beg a thing of me is denser than a rock,” Aegon shoots back at her. He will not have her self-pitying over their shared agreement, he has had enough complaints over this. “And you have agreed to it, so don’t you start.”

“I’m not starting a thing,” Jaehaera says, holding her hands together. “I only wish to know what is to happen to me.”

Aegon’s muscles tense. They’ve both spent days on end wondering what will come their way. To sit and wait watching bloody walls while their guards and guardians know not how to shield them from what’s impending. It makes him sick only thinking about it.

He breathes deeply, and takes up one of the parchment papers and his ink. He wanted to write this petition later, but if she’s already here, he might as well. “If you’d like to watch me declare you impotent to the High Septon, be my guest.”

Jaehaera huffs as she walks behind him to see. “Last I heard a husband requested annulment from his wife for impotence, he remained childless despite having three wives, and the lady had become with child within a year of her second marriage.” 

Aegon raises an eyebrow. “That’s your wish for me?” Perhaps a hex brought to word. A tsk leaves his lips— she wouldn’t know he would not mind it at all—

“No, that’s your wish for yourself,” she says plainly, and a dose of faux innocence creeps upon her words. “I’d never.”

Aegon's mouth scrunches to an annoyed pout. At times her intuition seems heightened and she simply knows what she shouldn’t. And of course, she must employ similar words to Viserys. He draws his chair closer to the table. Breathe, and distance yourself. 

He focuses on his lettering instead. A formal request is not so hard to write, but he is unequivocally aware of her behind him. I hereby request your permission to relieve me and Queen Jaehaera of our…

“Relieve? Are we pissing, Aegon?” she chuckles by his ear. He turns his face to glare at her, but he nearly slams his face to her cheek. She pushes her face lightly against his as if to shove him away, and straightens herself to proper posture. 

He could choose to be flabbergasted. He sighs out. No. This is not the way with her.

“Do you want this written?” he asks her sternly. Staring her down is difficult when he must stare her up from his seat, but he will not let her lose his mind so easily.

She has the mind to not be entirely shameless. “Yes.”

“Then go sit on the bed and wait.”

Jaehaera most certainly has some quip trying to escape her lips, but she holds it in well. Eyebrows are raised and eyes are widened with a stifled grin, but she does not continue. Certainly an effort on her side.

“I shall let you read after I finish writing,” he tells her. “I promise.”

Every agreement with her is kept in their silences. Flinging hands in the hair, she steps and sits on the edge of the bed, resting her figure against the post of it. She is still watching, but he is able to finish the letter with this safe distance. 

When he rises from his seat, her gaze lifts with his figure. She looks at him expectedly, like one of her kittens waiting for food to be graced upon them. He blows on the letter once or twice for the ink to set and brings it forward to her for the taking. 

Jaehaera’s eyes scan the paper slowly. Every time she reads she has the most focused look on her face. He never knows if she takes in her texts at such leisure because she needs further focus or because she chooses to ignore him, but he allows her the moment she needs, slipping to the side of the bed opposed to her. If she has any complaints, he can fix them on the morrow; he has had enough of a long day.

When she lets the letter fall to her lap, she turns to him with eyes brightened with some emotion as they seem slightly frightened. 

“Do you think the High Septon will think me lesser for this reputation?” she asks him. “His opinion may matter if I’d like to stay in Oldtown...”

Aegon hasn’t ever thought he’d see his wife quite so nervous. She hadn’t allowed fear on her hardened face since the death of her grandmother. Certainly not to him, at the very least. He himself can’t truly ever relieve himself of his own fears, but he does know he has more control in relieving hers.

“You know very well Lord Lyonel nor Lady Samantha care for the opinion of any septon,” he answers softly. “You are a Targaryen. You will be a respectable ward to any host, and if they do not see you as such, we will sober said hosts to the truth.”

Never again could House Targaryen be seen as weak. He will never allow such insult or audacity again, nor hurt. It is why she must live on; why he must live on. Feelings of shame overcome him, all he has already lost for being a weak child.

“I will not allow any disrespect towards you,” he says ever seriously. Jaehaera’s mouth is in a thin gap she quickly shuts close, and he finds that if he does not speak now, his lifespan might thin out in a way even he isn’t prepared to. “So you’ve decided on Oldtown?”

No surprise, really. She may find herself belonging around those kin better. He wonders if she would; since Rhaena remarried to Garmund Hightower, that place is of no less Targaryen presence than here. 

“Well, if they’d sober to my respectable self, I’d be most glad,” she returns to her jests. “I’d rather like to see the Citadel’s Sphinxes. ”Did you know they have the bodies of cats?” 

“I believe it’s lions,” Aegon replies. “Or so Lord Tyland Lannister once told me. Though perhaps he saw himself in it.” 

Jaehaera nods. “Overgrown, smart cats, who speak in elevated riddles,” she laments, and then a grin returns to her face. “Perhaps he was right to see himself in it.”

Aegon feels the corners of his lips upturn as well. “Perhaps he was.” 

—

Jaehaera puts her mother’s pearls upon her for the night’s ball. Every ball has its purpose, and this one had several. Aegon needs to look at prospective alternatives to her, as well as apparently needs to calm his sister’s and council’s beating hearts to allow them to put forward their own girls first. Jaehaera laughed at how exasperated her husband had been as he told her. The muscles of his face have been in a perpetual scowl since forever, but it somehow managed to deepen.

She stretched her thumb and index over the skin of his lips, forcing him to wear a smile again. “You should smile if you’d like to charm anybody,” she told him. “Councilmen and women alike.” 

He shoved her hand away, pouting. Perhaps it doesn’t matter; he needn’t do much. He is handsome enough, and eyes will be on him regardless, as well on the crown on his head. It is a risk, to force him to smile. He is no good at such; when it does not reach his eyes it looks a crooked grimace. She finds it amusing in some measure, but he may scare someone else.

Regardless, she had been excited for the evening. Aegon told her he invited the Hightowers for her, to see if Oldtown’s folk truly suit her.

“My Queen,” her handmaiden calls her, showing her headpiece intricate with pearls scattered across green fabric. It is very extravagant for this evening. “What about this headdress?”

“Isn’t it much for the evening, Leila?” she asks the woman with a grin. She quite loves Leila; she had been with her for quite a while. She used to be a cook, kind enough to make Jaehaera all the sweets she needed between cravings and tears. Jaehaera took her as handmaiden right away, when she found out she could.

Leila licks her lips, tentative in what she says next. “My Queen, I have wanted to tell you… there are rumors—” she looks down, truthfully saddened. Still, she dares. “That the King wishes to replace you.”

Jaehaera hums at her, lips unsure of what shape to make. “You needn’t be concerned, really.”

“But it is of concern, Your Grace,” Leila says. “I couldn’t bear some Westerland witch taking your place.”

Jaehaera’s blinks at the sudden confession, but tries to conceal it with a jest. “That is all well then. If Aegon wishes for another, he has plenty more regions to choose from.”

“Your maids count to three and ten in number, Your Grace. You’ll find each of us refusing them all,” she tells her. “His Grace should see the good in his hands.”

Jaehaera is surprised. She hadn’t ever truly thought any of the Keep cares for her presence much. Many other staffs she had thought she could rely on turned on her and let her almost fall to the hands of those who wish her ill will. It is hard to believe in anyone, in truth.

Her one assumption had been that she’d only miss the cats of the Keep —  Gon and Lena are quite old now, but their kittens grew up so well. Ron, Mond, and Rys often played together. She thought she might take Lor with her, if she left; he is a wee bit of runt, just like her. Her husband had fed the cats himself rather often, but he wouldn’t mind her keeping one, she thinks. He likes them better than some of his councilmen, but he would.

In fact, she can’t see him denying her them all, should she have asked. 

She swallows, and smiles at Leila, holding her hands. “I see good in these hands,” she says. “Do put the headdress on me. Even if Aegon cares little, I trust your sense of dress more than anyone else.”

“If he cares little, he’s the most foolish king that could be,” Leila says, pouting, but tending to her hair nonetheless.

Jaehaera laughs.

—

Aegon sees Jaehaera come into the ballroom when he is dealing with a flock of hens. Hens, being the court’s daughters (and at times, mothers), and the lot of them were sent to him by his councilmen, and most of all, his devious siblings. Viserys, Rhaena, Baela, the lot of them proving to be from the seven hells.

She enters with a soft green dress befitting an age-old dispute. Should he be angry? Probably; he can see Baela is quite upset, but he is first taken aback by the form of Jaehaera. His wife scarcely took to dressing grandiosely, always rather conservative with her hair up in plain braided buns, and her dresses styled more for girls than women. It is different today, with her lowered neckline and hair cascading down with only half an updo and a tiara-like headdress.

He knows not if the red of her cheeks is powder or shyness as she wades through the room. She had been most excited at the news of her kinsmen coming, but now she looks rather tentative at the stares, despite her eye-catching choice of garb.

It does suddenly dawn on him that she may like to look appealing in order to perhaps find a second life by finding a second husband. That is fair, he rationalizes to himself. He himself is deep in the clutches of all the women that could be her replacements even if he had no wish to remarry after. But I must, and she could choose.

Jaehaera looks for something in the crowd and he does not notice he is staring until what she looks for is revealed to be him , and a relieved, crinkling violet stare holds him in place. 

“Your Grace,” Lady Corinna Tarbeck wakes him from his sudden halt. “What are you smiling at so…” the blond Lady begins to ask. He quickly removes any trace of a smile from his face, swallowing. Corinna is one of Rhaena’s friends, similar in ladylike demeanour, but even her impeccably held shy smile fades rather quickly at his wife’s approach. Regardless, she greets her first as Jaehaera rushes forward towards her. “My Queen.”

“I do beg your pardon for the interruption,” Jaehaera says, and chews the inside of his cheek when she sounds rather sincere. “If I may have my King for a moment,” she asks. Lady Corinna does not stay beyond her welcome, and Aegon is left with his wife rather stone-like. He sets his eyes on the pearls on her neck, which leads to nothing good. He ends up looking at her collarbone, and his eyes only keep straying further than he’d like them to. 

“Who’s that? A Westerland witch?” she whispers with a grin. Aegon is astounded to a snort at her knowing; she wasn’t even wearing her houses’ colors. But a witch may be an accurate descriptor. She had appeared by his side as if by magic’s way. His dearest sisters never hold back.

“Frankly, yes,” he says. “Rhaena has brought a delegation of those. They move their face as much as dolls do.” 

“Well, I rather like dolls. They make great company to the lonely,” she says. Aegon purses his lips. He has felt loneliness in his miserly life, but he hasn’t a need to alleviate any as of late. He doubts these dolls’ company would be any more than hindrance; all Lady Tarbeck had the will to talk about is the beauty of his jewelled crown. “Have you seen the Hightowers? I shan’t like to stifle you in your endeavors, but…”

Yet she does, coming in and demanding the eyes of all. Aegon huffs, but takes her arm in his. Even if she will be free to leave the Keep too, they need to maintain stability and amiability to the crowd. To let her go should be nothing but the last resort in the eyes of their warring lords. 

“I saw Lady Samantha with her children, I’ll take you to them,” her teeth flash in at him in a grin, and he tries to ignore how she holds his arm to her side. It is easier when she starts to whisper to him about some of the ladies he should avoid as they go about the room.

“Lady Farring is pretty, but quite the leech. I’ve spoken to her over tea a few times, and she means it not, but she’s a drainer of energy. I have felt the years pass by me in an hour,” she says.

“You mean she will deny me a long life?” he asks. “You may have just fully endeared me to her.”

Jaehaera rolls her eyes with a repressed smile. “They’d think I poisoned you if I let you die so soon after my leave,” she complains. “There are finer ladies around. Lady Thorne and Lady Harte had always been sweeter souls. You’ll find them amiable, though delegating you to them might be unfair to them.”

“Am I not amiable now? I thought I was rather fair with you,” he answers, scrunching his nose. Was he not fair with her? He would not say he had been the best of husbands, but he did his best to keep her in her thoughts. Even when it was hard, when he didn’t want to at all. Viserys thinks he knows not the importance of stability of the realm, but he does. He worked hard to make sure they are all stable and well. So much so now thinking of her and her consequences are second nature. 

Jaehaera squeezes his arms, looking up at him, pouting with lips he just noticed had been tinted further red. “It was a jest,” she says, sullen. “I can’t deny you are fairer than I expected you to be. I haven’t thought this promise will come to fruition; I couldn’t know if it was all empty words. But I see you have chosen a kinder, loyal hand than many would, it is not lost on me.”

Aegon breathes in. What is this sudden confession? On other days she would have sufficed to have thrown a shoe at him if he had said something she misliked. He can’t remember when her eyes had last been such a clear shade of violet rather than melancholic orchids. “I am not sure if I should be offended if you trust me only now.” 

Then again, how many attempts on her life she can live through and believe trust’s a true thing? He hardly trusted anyone at all. Viserys, he did, and his sisters, sometimes— and–

Jaehaera flattens her lips against one another. “I am simply saying I chose to believe in what my husband tells me, as he proved he does not lie,” she says softly, and he thinks it another cynical joke, until she continues. “That is not meaningless to me. That is all.” 

“Jaehaera…” he starts to say, but he scarcely knows what to speak next. He is vexed to dry lips as he stares at her own. His word must be written in stone, as King, but he holds her arm tighter. Firm in decisions and firm in their enforcement. When he passes on, he wishes no decision to keep him haunting this red brick castle, nor the land it presides over. He means to do well with his own stubbornness, yet he feels some turmoil in his gut. 

Viserys says he wishes to live as if he is dead, but he still finds himself so easily stirred. He gulps it down, wills it all away. Calm down.

“Your Grace,” Samantha Tarly suddenly appears beside, her brood of children behind her. Her eyes crinkle at his wife. “And our royal kin,” she says, reaching to hug his wife. “I have not seen you for so long. You are radiant today.” 

Jaehaera allows her a hug, though it is quite the overstep; Lady Sam does not really know her, and they are kin by her marriage to a Hightower Jaehaera hardly knew as well. Their arms unlock from one another, and Jaehaera rushes to the point of it all. “May I walk about the room with Lady Sam, husband?”

And yes, Aegon knows why she is so persuasive of the idea. Life at Oldtown would be easier for her, he knows. He’d assume life anywhere but here would be easier. He could not bear to stay long in Dragonstone, where his mother’s death had taken place, but she had managed to survive nine years in the place that hunted her family. Though perhaps it is their family as a whole .

And how long will I have to wait to leave here? He suddenly wants to reach for her arm again. He shifts on his feet, unnerved. 

This was always the plan. 

There is turmoil in his gut, but he soon nods. “As you wish, wife.”

—

Samantha’s six children waddle after them like ducklings. Every few moments, Jaehaera looks behind her step to see the little towers not tripping on either of their skirts. There is true fear there; there is no need to add blood to the snot that already decorated their noses.

“Attentive, are you?” Lady Samantha says. “You have grown so much since I’ve last seen you. You used to be such a shy thing, hiding behind anyone you could find, but now you seem to have a place to hide your own littles.” 

“A most profound way to say I am no longer eight, Lady Sam,” Jaehaera tells her, maintaining an even smile. Lady Samantha is a cattier girl, more outspoken than most. She tries to blend into her image; she would very much like to be as brave. For years Lady Sam had stood by her decisions and rebelled High Septon to approve them as true. While not being complacent, she still forged her own life. 

“I am trying to say you have much grace and wits about you, Your Grace,” Lady Sam huffs. “The King too had quite grown. You look like a dashing unit. Dare I hope there is a purpose to this ball? A declaration for a happier realm?”

Jaehaera bites her lips. She had been thoroughly glad Lady Sam found her when she did. She never denied her husband was comely, but she did not expect any of her words to come as a surprise nor lead him to his intent gaze. She never wished it to be upon her before, and she had felt bare to his eyes under the loom of his broad figure. 

She had never been scared of him, including now but perhaps it is herself that she should’ve minded more. She liked that gaze, and the tightening hold of his arm. All her life she rather wanted to flee, but despite expectations, she did not feel trapped.

Jaehaera had simply meant to express gratefulness, how did she end up so chilled to her core?

“I, well…” she looks down at the floor. She oft refused to allow her and Aegon’s circumstances to chain her into reaching for him for any carnal comfort, but Lady Sam inserted that thought into her mind as brazenly as she inserted herself into Lord Lyonel’s bed. She can’t avoid the flush on her face, but she also knows this is her time to act in their plan. “I fear that is not in my cards, Lady Sam.”

The words feel rather uncomfortable on her lips, and Lady Samantha Hightower is nothing if not sharp to note as much. Immediately, she switches her demeanour to a more tentative one. “You believe there is no… fruit to be had?” 

Jaehaera clears her throat. “No,” she says, voice small. “And the realm is tired of waiting.” 

“I like fruit,” Samantha’s youngest child suddenly notes, holding his mother’s skirts, sniffling back snot. “I want a pango.”

Samantha rolls her eyes. “You mean mango, Arthur,” she says, and turns to the other kids. “Go look for some, all of you. Together. The first to find one will ride around the city with me.” 

The children are spurred into action, and they watch them rush away. One of them faceplants onto the floor midway, but luckily their father, Lord Lyonel helps him up, and soon is dragged to help the children on their quest. 

“Children are a workload at times,” Samantha says quietly. “The King seems content still, and you are still young.”

“He is pressured by his court, and I’ve never been his court’s favourite.”

“If my Lord Hightower had managed to resist pressure from the Starry Sept, so can the King from his court.”

“We’re not you and Lord Lyonel, Lady Sam,” she says tentatively, her eyes finding Aegon’s tall figure all too easily - he is with his sister, Baela, and one of her Celtigar companions. Jaehaera looks away quickly, suddenly feeling an illness in her gut. Samantha scoffs.

“If men aren’t as fickle as leaves. To think only moments ago his eyes latched upon you so..” she inhales. “His brother is a widower, is he not? With three children to boot. I would’ve gone to his bed, if I were you.”

“Lady Sam!” Jaehaera’s eyes become saucers. If she had been sick at her unforeseen possessiveness on her husband, thinking of Viserys in his stead — she could barf . “Do not even suggest it!”

“Well, I would… but in your case. Garmund and Rhaena may toil to compete with us to fill the Hightower, but should you ever need to come to Oldtown, you will have a place. Between ten children, what is one more aunt?”

Ruckus comes from behind, and they see Lyonel attempting to settle a dispute between the children over who found the mango first. Jaehaera is quite appalled at the display. Her kittens are wild animals and they never fought so hard over a thing. 

Lady Sam excuses herself to go help, and Lord Lyonel looks at her as if she is a godsent angel coming to his rescue. The children do look rough to sort out; but that familial moment does look rather sweet. And it should be, this family would be nothing but teeth rotting to live with, but Jaehaera can’t help but feel incredibly sour.

—

A few days pass, and Aegon is walking through the gardens with a Velaryon girl that Baela and Alyn seemingly manifested from thin air. She is a pretty one, but he can’t quite focus on what she is saying at all. 

In all honesty, he finds his mind rather preoccupied. After the ball he has seen Jaehaera only once, when going back to Maegor’s Holdfast. She had been all smiles early into the evening, but at evening’s end she had been abnormally quiet. Before they parted in the hallway separating their rooms, she quickly told him Lady Sam seemingly welcomed her to her home should she wish for a place in it… and escaped to her private quarters in a rush.

He does not know how to feel about it. They could’ve talked some more, could they not? She should’ve told him more, anything. He accepted it all already, but it felt all too sudden. He thought of going after her, but when he tried to think of what to say further, he couldn’t come up with a thing. She had made her choice, what more could he say?

I swore to her she could choose.

Aegon had penned the letter to the High Septon. The request of annulment has been stamped with his own seal, and is waiting to be sent by raven to the city his wife wishes to escape to. The Small Council had told him to do so when he had his assured pick of a wife — they never intended to let him off the hook, nor stall for even a moment’s time.

The day is a fine, sunny day, and the birds are chirping gleefully from the trees planted between the flowerbeds, but he feels properly forsaken.

“Your Grace, are you well?” Lady Daenaera asks him kindly. She is properly perceptive despite being on the younger side. Ugh. He had given Baela a truly dirty look when she presented her, for she had been three and ten… but then his sister whispered to his ears her own ploy. If you wish not for a wife, perhaps you’d  be better off starting with a companion. Daenaera spots a stone bench not far away from them, and flutters gracefully to it. “Let us sit. It is rather hot today.” 

She takes her place, poised in her seat, and taps the stone surface for him to join. I should at least be mannerly.

“Fret not,” he says as he joins her. Perhaps he ought to at least entertain her some. “The sun has yet to have found the way to strike me down, unfortunately.”

Daenaera blinks at him. “Unfortunately…?” she asks, and he sees the contemplation of her mind through her eyes. He feels the deepest shiver of embarrassment coursing through his spine. Seven fucking hells. Daenaera clears her throat. “You mustn’t say that, your Grace. I’d rather believe the sun a form of sustenance, if already,” the girl recovers faster than he does.

If he wished to disappear beforehand, he most certainly wishes he could disappear now.

“Yes, most certainly,” he answers stoically. “Baela does say there is nothing quite like feeling the sun upon you as you sail.”

Now, that is. Riding her dragon had been her love when they were children, but Moondancer is long gone. He feels an awful man, knowing it makes him feel safer, and it makes him feel worse, knowing he should be ashamed of it. Morning still frightens him; he is often nervous at the thought of visiting Rhaena knowing it waits at Oldtown too. Gods, Jaehaera is going to live with the pink beast as well.

Daenaera nods. “I would daresay it is like a hug. The scent of the salt sea is carried by the cold wind, but the sun keeps you warm with its embrace… Oh!” she suddenly exclaims, and for a moment he is confused, but then he feels a scratch by his pants. Looking down, he sees a pale young cat meowing at him. He quickly climbs on his lap. “How cute. Who’s this?”

“Ah, my wi—” he catches himself before he says it, though his tone falters henceforth. “One of the courtyard’s cats. This is Rys. He’s very good at catching mice, and very good at asking for meals.”

The little thing likes to persters him, less recluse than its parents watching from the green hedges. Jaehaera had been deeply connected to it, letting it into her rooms when she had been younger. The servants hadn’t been pleased with the tears he had brought to the furniture, but he had told them to let her be. Cats of all things they can manage in their keep.

He had not been dense enough to not realize that his name had been homage to her fallen twin. All her kittens' names implied her lost family members. When he had been younger, he had swallowed down anger, but he soon grew out of it when Rys had started following him around. Before Viserys had been returned alive to Westeros, that kitten had been representative of two deceased brothers.

Aegon pats the cat’s head gently. She may want to take him with her. The little thing nuzzles against his hand.

“Such a sweet thing. He loves you so,” she remarks fondly. Aegon finds himself withering only more and more. You have offered this annulment. 

“Would you like to pet him?” he forces himself to ask. It is at that exact moment that he notices Daenaera has distanced herself to the very edge of the stone bench away from him. She smiles at him awkwardly.

“I wished I could, but you see…” she scrunches her nose as if to hold back a sneeze. “Cat’s hair is something I’m rather sensitive to.”

He holds himself from cussing. There is cat hair, noticeable, white cat hair, all over his black clothes. He can’t believe this. Even my most mundane of days are fucking miserable.

Aegon holds onto Rys and stands up. “You should’ve said so, my lady,” he sighs out. “I do apologize then, I didn’t mean you discomfort… we may be better off continuing this meeting another time,” he looks down at himself; he isn’t sure if the servants would be able to get the fur out. “In different clothes, certainly.”

“No, no, you have caused me no discomfort, Your Grace,” she is hasty to reply. “Thank you for your time, and introducing me to the kitten as well. He is a part of the Keep, regardless of if I stay or…” Daenaera fiddles with her hands nervously. He wonders how much she is trying to force herself to fit. Baela and Alyn surely goaded her to do her best, and had not been an unkind companion, but he needs not a child to validate him. 

A rustle comes from the hedges, and he sees Gon and Lena weasling out of the bushes. Rys too jumps from his hands, to poor Daenaera’s fright and sneezes alike. He looks to where they are going — and clearly, it is for food brought by maidservants, and maidservants brought by…

Jaehaera.

Aegon meets his wife’s eyes, and halts. They are clear violets, nor melancholic orchids, but furious mauves. She is glaring daggers at him. 

At first he is taken by surprise. Then, he is angry. After all he had done for her? After all he is doing for her? You plague me for days on end and you think you get to scorn me?

Daenaera lowers her head to Jaehaera, trying to sniffle back the snot from her sneezes. “Your Grace!”

Jaehaera looks the girl up and down once, and storms away with tight fists. 

Daenaera seems at a loss of words, frozen in place — and he may have properly lost his mind. His legs start to stride after his wife on their own. 

—

Jaehaera is reeling from head to toe from what she has seen. 

It is one thing for him to look for a second bride. She knows he has little option in doing so. Despite her ladies-in-waiting’s staunch refusal to be possible alternatives to her, she had been willing to help him find a woman trustworthy and capable enough to be his new Queen, but this?

Little Daenaera Velaryon had been just that; little. A child. And an orphaned child, on top of all. She had raised her eyebrows when Alyn and Baela had brought her with them, but she pushed it aside, knowing the girl had been a companion to their daughter. 

She had talked to her before. She knows the sweet girl’s exact life story; mother dead to Winter Fever, and father who had felled while waging war. Baela and Alyn fostered her henceforth, and Daenaera had held them both in the highest esteem for it. 

Jaehaera couldn’t blame them if they saw her as a Queen in the making. The girl is beautiful, well-mannered, and charming to boot, but that does not change the fact she is three and ten, and most undoubtedly pushed to the role.

Jaehaera’s mother had been pushed to marriage at three and ten, and then pushed to her death as queen at no less than three and twenty. She is walking the bridge above the moat where her queenly mother has perished years before just now — how could he? He knows how hard it is to bear the crown. He hates it more than anything, how could he?

“Jaehaera!” she hears Aegon’s voice and stomps following her. She hastens her pace. She doesn’t want to talk to him; if she does she may just cry to his face, may just push him down the moat too. Of all people, how could you do this?

Aegon’s legs are longer than hers. She is barely within the confines of the Holdfast when he reaches and grabs her arm. 

“What is the matter with you?!” he has the gall to yell to her face. “You frightened your own maids and servants, not to mention Lady Daenaera.”

Do not speak to me about my maids nor my cats! As if he hadn’t held her kitten in his ploy. “For the while I am still here, they will bear my bursts, as they always have,” she snarls at him back. “Lady Daenaera is not yet their lady.”

It is hard for her as it is. Her maids and ladies-in-waiting had been so solemn after she had told them she’d likely leave. It had been so clear she could barely bring herself to leave her rooms and face them without her lash lines prickling with tears. And her cats, she thought to take them, but then again — she couldn’t take them all, and she sees all too well that this is their home, that they are used to. Aegon’s hands were safe for Rys.

Aegon’s hands are safe. They had been safe and they had been hers. She can’t look at him. If she does…

“Anyone who thinks you’d beg a thing of me is denser than a rock.”

You’re going to make me beg. Beg that he won’t betray her own belief in him doing this, if not beg him to let her stay. She can’t beg, she can’t be this weak. She is almost on her way away from here, why must she keep looking back ? It hurts. 

She tears herself away from him and tries to run towards her apartments in the Holdfast, but Viserys and his children are blocking the way. Naerys wakes in the hands of her nursemaid and Aemon seems to grow alert. Little Aegon says something, but she can't even comprehend it. Their father, Viserys only sports some confusion on his face seeing her, but she hears his voice when he calls out to his brother. 

She runs to the opposing hallway, until that hallway ends, and she’s by the King’s quarters.

Jaehaera hears her husband’s steps from behind her coming to a halt.

“Will you stop running away from me?” he asks. She is reticent to answer, there is a bile in her throat. He steps one step forward. “Jaehaera, please .”

“She is a child,” she finally says, voice a moment from breaking. “It will hurt her.”

Aegon is silent for a moment. “She wouldn’t be my first choice either, but Viserys married her age. Younger, even.”

She turns to him in fury, coming up to his face. She will not dare speak it above a whisper, Viserys’s children are not far away, but he should know better. “And Lady Rogare could not stand this court any more than any of us, and left him more than hurt. You know this.”

Jaehaera finally meets his dark purple gaze again. It is glassy.

He nods in melancholy. “Perhaps so. But we married younger,” he says shakily. He is holding her hands; his hands are warm. They are gentle; they are safe. “And now you are leaving me.” 

I am. She can’t tear away her eyes from him. I am leaving. His face is getting closer. I am leaving and never looking back. His forehead is pressed against hers. I will be happy in Oldtown. I will be happy anywhere else but…

Aegon’s lips are pressed against hers. 

Here.

She takes his face in her hands, and kisses him back.

—

He isn’t sure how they danced their way into his quarters. They have stumbled with each other within. Aegon is half bent for their kiss, one hand on the arm holding his face and the other on the small of her back, trying to hold against her leading, pushing small frame.

Aegon has gotten tastes of her touch before, but he had never realized before how she speaks through it. She had never not been honest, even if lying would have benefited her, but her hands and holds are a burst of anything he couldn’t expect. He falls back on his bed as his shins meet with its frame and she sits his lap before he could even think to contest it.

Her hands do not leave his face for more than a moment, and she is in such a frenzy she seems to forgo breathing. It makes his head spin, as if his heart does not already beat out of his chest. He never before minded the thought of his own heart failing him, cutting his days short, but now he only wants this moment longer.

“Jaehaera,” he breathes in between her pecks. She is scarcely listening, leaning more and more of her weight on him as she demands their lips’ touch. It is so brand new he can’t comprehend it, and it dawns on him that she can’t, either; she does not clutch him so for no reason. “Jaehaera, wait…”

“Kiss me,” her plea is frustrated. “Ple—”

He takes a hold of her face and stamps a hard, prolonged kiss onto her lips. I will not have you begging.

She stops, takes it in, and undeniably melts in his hands. Her hands fall and she holds onto the fabric of his doublet. She sighs sweetly when he caresses her hair. He pecks her more gently, listening attentively to her soft breaths. 

When he leaves her lips to take her in, she speaks straight to his soul.

“I will not leave you,” she tells him, so seriously it makes his heart ache. “I refuse to go.”

It hits Aegon somewhere too tender. He has no trust to lend to almost anyone. People come and go. They slip away to happier places; they disappear, they die, and he is left behind here. 

Even those he loves, he fears he only deigns to wither with him. He hurts even Viserys in his own incapabilities of carrying these burdens. But he could help Jaehaera escape it, he swore it to her ages ago, yet he can’t let her go. You are the only one who understands…

His own incapabilities have him failing at every turn, but he can’t do anything about it. He loves her. Aegon smiles up at her.

“You can go, lady wife, when I fade to ash on my pyre.”

Jaehaera’s face brightens up. The smile stretches across her face wide with a chuckle, and she brings her fingers to the buttons of his doublet. Each one she undoes strikes lightning onto him, and eventually, her hand lands on his chest, only the thin, flimsy shirt underneath protecting him as she pushes his back down the mattress. 

“As long as you know you will not do so any time soon,” she says, lowering her face against his for their noses to just touch. “You are mine while you are still warm.”

Aegon beams at her, and takes her kisses with stride and joy. He minds not a long life, if he has her to lean on.

—

When the time for the next Small Council arrives, Jaehaera enters it with Aegon, a piece of sealed, parchment paper in her hands. 

The lords come up from their seats in some haste. They are all confused at her appearance; she had never been a part of the councils, even if as Queen she had a right to request a seat. The only one that remains at his seat in the Hand of the King, Viserys—

While the rest of the lot are very much at a loss, he takes one look at his brother, and understands. 

“His Grace, Her Grace,” The Master of Coin, Lord Isembard Arryn, looks up to the two of them as Aegon takes his seat at the head of the table. “Is there a reason the both of you are here..?”

“The Queen requested her place,” Aegon answers plainly. He looks at the Kingsguards, rather annoyed. “Would anyone fetch her a chair?”

Jaehaera looks down, stifling a chuckle. Ser Raynard Ruskin quickly rushes to find her the seat. Grand Maester Munkun looks between her, Aegon and Viserys, while Lord Thaddeus Rowan is the one that asks of the elephant in the room.

“Her Grace is of course welcome. Yet, it seems to me something has shifted without us knowing?” 

Aegon hums, and turns his gaze to her. “Would you like to tell them, wife?”

Jaehaera takes center stage, at the same time Ser Raynard brings her chair to the table. She smiles at her husband. Gladly. She shows the councilmen the paper in her hands.

“This has been the petition for annulment we had planned to send to the High Septon, you see,” she presents it for all of them to see — only to soon take it in both hands, and rips it apart, letting the pieces of it fall on the table. “His Grace and I believe it had been a hasty decision yet still. As far as we are concerned it is null itself.” 

“Forgive me, your Grace, but the matter of an heir…?” Lord Arryn asks, almost rudely — but neither her nor Aegon are the one to answer him.

“Will surely sort itself out soon enough, if your royal lieges believe it well enough to renounce this decision,” Viserys says, cutthroat. His eyes fall back on her, reliable but challenging. “You better sit, Your Grace. It is an arduous path to care for a King and a Kingdom, and far more so with children to come.” 

Jaehaera sits down opposing him. Aegon sends his brother a quick glare, but it soon dissipates to a smile when Jaehaera takes a hold of Aegon’s hand.

“That is a path I’m willing to walk.” 

tag list: @boohoneyy, @serymn31, @dreams-cynicism, @shslkokoro, @sanbond, @tremendouswolfsaladranch dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

[parkerslatte]

Broken Fence

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst. major character death.

Summary: Humans only have a short lifespan compared to the fae and unfortunately for Azriel he had fallen in love with one.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The door slammed open as Azriel burst into Rhys’s office, tears streaming down his face and sobs echoing throughout the room. Rhys and Cassian looked toward their brother and rushed over to him. In the centuries they had known Azriel, they had never seen him this hysterical. As Azriel collapsed to the floor, Rhys fell down with him, pulling the shadowsinger into his arms. Cassian placed his hands on Azriel’s shoulders gently. 

“Az, what happened?” asked Cassian. 

The sobs coming from Azriel only increase as he clutches onto Rhys, trying his best to ground himself. Rhys and Cassian share a look of questioning, neither of the two knew what would have happened. 

“Azriel,” Cassian spoke softly. “Please tell us what happened.”

Azriel’s gaze finally met Cassian’s, his eyes full of tears and Cassian’s heart broke just looking at him. 

“She’s- she’s dead,” Azriel forced out before more guttural sobs came from him. 

“Az, who’s dead,” Rhys asked, tightening his grip on the shadowsinger. 

Azriel pulled away from Rhys and slumped forward, pushing his brothers away. His breath was ragged and he could barely see in front of him as the tears in his eyes clouded his vision. 

In his whole life, Azriel had never felt this type of pain. His heart was shattered and scattered where he would never be able to find them. In the matter of hours, Azriel had gone from the happiest male in the world to the saddest. The agony he felt was unbearable. Azriel had survived wars and torture but this was still the most pain he had ever felt. 

Azriel placed his hand over his heart, it hammered in his chest. Rhys and Cassian remained standing behind him giving him as much space as they could. 

“Y/N,” Azriel finally spoke. “She died.”

“Whose Y/N?” Rhys asked. 

“She—“ Azriel cut himself off as another sob forced itself out of him. “She was mine and I— I was hers. I love her so much.”

Cassian stepped up to Azriel and placed his hand on his shoulder once more. This time Azriel didn’t try to pull away. Rhys came up behind Azriel and stood next to him, offering him the same comfort as Cassian. 

“How did she die?” Rhys asked. 

Azriel was silent. He leaned into his brothers’ touch, seeking as much comfort as he could. “Old age,” he finally answered. “She was seventy-one.”

Only an hour before, Azriel had clutched onto hers as she took her final breaths. The slackening of her grip made Azriel’s heart drop as soon as he felt it. He had smoothed her hair out of her face as she closed her eyes for the final time. She looked older than when he had met her when she was twenty-six but that glimmer in her eyes remained. 

“She was human,” Azriel began. His sobs had slowly subsided and now his cries were quiet as he spoke. “I met her forty five years ago. It’s where I always disappear every night.”

Rhys guided Azriel to sit down. His wings were dragging across the floor, he didn’t care enough to pick them up. 

“How did you two meet?” Cassian asked. 

Azriel let out a breath. “You sent me on a mission to the human lands when an ash arrow was shot at my wing.”

“You never told me that!” Rhys exclaimed. 

Azriel shrugged. “It wasn’t important.” Azriel wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks. “I fell into Y/N’s garden, I ruined her fence.”

Despite the way he was feeling he couldn’t help but smile at the memory. 

***

As soon as he hit the ground, Azriel groaned in pain. It was late at night so Azriel thought that he would have been safe flying over the mortal lands. Apparently not. Heaving his body from the ground, Azriel stood on his feet. His left wing hung limply beside him. Every movement sent a sharp pain through it. 

As his focus shifted from his injuries— which consisted of his wing and his arm which had broken from his landing— Azriel had failed to notice where he had crash landed. 

“Who the hell are you!” A woman's voice echoed through the night air. 

Azriel spun around and noticed a woman in her mid twenties standing with a small wooden beam in her hands. She held it defensively in front of her though she looked as if she would throw it at any point. 

Azriel held his hands up in defence, although with some effort considering the pain in his arm. “I’m not a threat.”

“You’re not human,” the woman said. “Why are you here?”

“I was flying over the mortal lands and I was shot by an ash arrow,” Azriel explained. “I can leave as soon as I get the arrow out.”

The woman took a step closer, her eyes full of uncertainty. “Does it hurt?”

Azriel grunted as he tried to move his wing. The arrow was in a place he couldn’t reach. “Yes.”

The woman took one more step closer. Her eyes glanced at his arm and down to the arrow in his wing. “Aren’t you meant to be fast at healing?”

“The arrow slows that process down,” Azriel said. “As soon as it is out, I can be on my way.”

“You broke my fence,” the woman stated. 

Azriel looked over at the fence he had fallen on. “I apologise.”

The woman dropped the wooden beam, sensing that Azriel wasn’t a threat. “Do you want to come inside? I can help you with…that.”

Azriel looked taken back for a moment. “What?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I asked you if you wanted to come in. I can help you with your injuries.”

Azriel lowered his head. “I would appreciate it.”

The woman turned on her heel and walked back to her house. “Come on then.”

Obediently, Azriel followed. He ducked through her doorway and shut the door behind him. The cottage was small but homely. There was a fire roaring and the woman walked over to the kitchen area, moving a stool out from under the table. 

“Sit,” The woman said. 

Azriel sat down on the stool and sighed, relieved to get off his feet. 

“How do I go about this?” The woman asked. 

Azriel finally looked at her in the lighting and his breathing hitched in his throat. The woman standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, his voice soft. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Y/N,” Azriel repeated. The name sounded beautiful on his tongue.

“Don’t wear it out,” Y/N said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Now, how do I…y’know?”

Y/N gestured to the arrow in his wing. 

“Oh,” said Azriel, raising his wing the smallest amount, pain shooting through him. “Make sure you pull it straight or it will cause more damage.”

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, suddenly nervous. 

Azriel watched as she kneeled down by the arrow and glided her fingers over his wing. Azriel flinched and Y/N jumped back. 

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Azriel said. “My wings are just sensitive. Sorry I scared you.”

Y/N only offered him a nod before shuffling closer to his wing. Her fingers gently touched the area next to the arrow. This time Azriel didn’t flinch but breathed out through his teeth. 

“Okay, just pull it straight through,” Y/N muttered to herself. 

Azriel glanced down at her and watched her expressions change as she hyped herself up to pull the arrow from his wing. Her hand was already on the arrow and his blood was soaking into her hands. Despite the way he was feeling, Azriel was shocked. He would guess that any other mortal would easily shy away from him or happily kill him– and one of those options was already attempted. 

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” Y/N said.

She wrapped her hand around the arrow head and quickly pulled it through his wing. Azriel grunted in pain and Y/N simply pressed a bandage to the wound to clear the blood away. As Y/N continued to wipe all of the blood away, Azriel could hear her heartbeat increase. 

“Are you scared of me?” Azriel asked, his voice soft. 

Y/N looked up at him, stilling her movements. “No, I’m not. I’m just worried I hurt you.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Y/N offered him a small smile. “Good.”

Y/N rose to her feet and Azriel tracked her movements. She moved with a certain grace that Azriel had never seen before and he found it hard to tear his eyes away. 

“What is your name?” Y/N asked, sitting in the seat beside Azriel. 

“What?” Azriel questioned, snapping out of his trance. 

“Your name,” said Y/N, amusement shining in her eyes. “You never told me.”

“Azriel,” he said. “My name is Azriel.”

Y/N nodded before rising from the chair she was sitting in. For the first time since he had entered her home, Azriel looked away from Y/N and down to his arm. It was slowly beginning to heal. 

“It is truly fascinating how fast you heal,” Y/N commented. “I broke my arm when I was just ten years old, it only took six weeks to heal but it felt like it was much longer for me.”

Azriel offered her a nod and flexed his fingers, there was a dull ache– nothing he couldn’t handle. His wing still hurt but as he raised it from where it had rested limply behind him, he found that he would have the strength to fly. From where she now stood in the kitchen area, Y/N glanced at Azriel out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes focused on his wings. She didn’t seem to be afraid at all– she looked fascinated. 

In his entire three-hundred and twenty years of living, Azriel had never seen a human take such an interest in him before, at least an interest that didn’t cause him direct harm. Azriel enjoyed it. 

“How do you feel when flying?” Y/N asked, spinning around. “I mean, how is it? Is it scary being so high up? I always wanted to fly when I was younger. I was convinced that I had a secret power to fly so I jumped from the roof of the house. It’s how I broke my arm.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let a quiet laugh pass by his lips. He didn’t intend for it to slip past but from the way Y/N’s face lit up when she heard it, he was glad he let it slip past. “I can show you.”

Her eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t possibly accept that. You are injured.”

Azriel stretched his wing. “I’ve handled worse.”

Y/N took a small step forward as Azriel held out his hand. She looked down at it and Azriel had the urge to pull his hand away once her gaze became focused on his scars. Before he could even begin to, Y/N clasped her soft hand in his. “Only if this doesn’t hurt you,” she said.

Azriel clasped her hand in his, savouring the feeling of her skin. “I assure you, I will be fine.”

With their hands linked together, Azriel led her outside. Y/N looked nervous as she looked to the sky. 

“Having second thoughts?” Azriel questioned, a hit of teasing laced his tone.

“No!” Y/N exclaimed. “It’s just a bit high, isn’t it?”

Azriel chuckled and Y/N smiled. “What?” she asked.

If Azriel could have a portrait of her smiling face he would. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Nothing,” Azriel said, simply smiling down at her. 

Y/N shook her head, and looked down to the ground, her smile never faltering. 

“Are you still sure about this?” Azriel asked. 

“Yes,” Y/N replied. “Just…don’t drop me.”

Azriel squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With a quick movement, Azriel sweeped Y/N from her feet and she let out a noise of surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wasn’t ready!” she exclaimed.

Azriel turned his head to look at her and he immediately found that it was a mistake. Her breath fanned his face as his eyes met hers, faces only inches apart. Up close, Azriel could make out the colour of her eyes and the dark lashes that framed them. Azriel couldn’t help himself as he let his eyes glide down her face. Her lips were slightly parted and Azriel couldn’t help but fixate on them. They looked soft and he desperately wanted to test his theory. 

Before he could even think about leaning closer, he cleared his throat. As he spoke his voice was quiet. “I will need to stay away from the town or anywhere that we are likely to be spotted.”

“That’s fine,” Y/N replied, breathless. 

“Hold on tight.”

It was all Azriel said as he shot off into the sky. The pain in his wing was mostly gone, all that remained was a slight pain whenever he flapped his wings to soar higher into the sky. As soon as Azriel shot off, Y/N’s arms tightened around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder, eyes closed tight. Azriel tightened his grip on her as he flew through the sky, making sure to avoid anywhere that he would endanger Y/N. 

“You can look,” Azriel said. “You do have quite a view.”

Azriel felt Y/N let out a breath and pull her head from where it was buried in his shoulder and immediately looked down. As soon as she saw how high they were, her face was once again nestled in Azriel’s shoulder. 

“Don’t look down,” Azriel said, his voice gentle and encouraging. “Look at me.”

Y/N pulled her face away slowly, her gaze meeting Azriel’s. As soon as their eyes met, Azriel smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Once Y/N was used to the thought of being so high in the sky, her gaze left Azriel’s as she looked out and a gasp left her lips. 

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N whispered, her eyes darting across everything she saw. The twinkle of lights from the town, the stars in the sky and the moon, which was full and in her direct eyeline. 

“I know,” Azriel said, though he wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking at Y/N.

Everything in Azriel told him to simply fly her back to her house and leave her. Thinking about her the way he was would only cause problems, mainly for him. Her lifespan was limited, if he became too attached she would only become a small fraction of his immortal life. 

But Azriel couldn’t help himself. To him, she was the most beautiful being in the world. The moonlight shone on her face as she looked at the view around her, her gaze never focusing on one thing for too long, not wanting to miss anything. 

“You do this everyday?” Y/N questioned. “It’s incredible.”

The sounds of her melodic voice snapped Azriel out of his thoughts as he looked at where they were flying, closer to the village. “We should go back now, I wish not to be seen again.”

Y/N’s gaze looked at the moon once more before she nodded. 

It wasn’t long before Azriel had landed back in Y/N’s garden. He set Y/N down on her feet gently and looked down at her. Her hair was windswept but she was still gorgeous. 

The smile on her face was bright as she looked up at Azriel. “That was amazing! I can’t believe I was flying!”

“Technically you weren’t flying,” Azriel teased.

Y/N gently hit his arm. “I was up in that sky, so I was flying.”

Azriel rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” Y/N said, her hand caressing his hand. “Truly, that was the most incredible thing I have ever done.”

“I’m glad you trusted me,” Azriel replied. 

As they stood there in the middle of the garden with the ruined fence, Y/N reached up and threw her arms around his shoulders. Shocked, Azriel remained still, not anticipating the affectionate gesture. Her body was warm and welcoming against him. He enjoyed the feeling immensely. 

Just as Y/N was about to pull away, Azriel’s arms found their place around her waist and held her tightly, though not enough to injure her human body. 

“I didn’t pin you for much of a hugger,” Y/N commented, her voice muffled against his shoulder. 

“I’m not,” Azriel replied, lifting her from her feet with ease.

Y/N legs wrapped around his waist as Azriel buried his head in the crook of her neck. 

“You bring something out of me,” said Azriel. His lips brushed against her neck which caused a shiver to go down Y/N’s spine. “I can’t explain it.”

Y/N unwrapped her legs from around him and Azriel set her on her feet but Y/N didn’t pull away– not fully. “Are you leaving?”

Azriel sighed. He didn’t want to, but he knew he couldn’t stay. “I am.”

“Will you come back?” Y/N asked, her eyes, although sad, were full of hope.

Azriel knew that it was a bad idea. He could never be with a human but with Y/N, he had never felt so carefree and at ease before. Her touch alone did things to him that no other touch had. 

“I will return,” Azriel said. “I can’t leave you when I haven’t even flown you when there is a sunset.”

Y/N smiled. “When? I don’t want it to be when I am old and grey.”

There was a small stab to Azriel’s heart at the thought of Y/N ageing when he wouldn’t but he brushed it off. “Tomorrow?”

Y/N brightened. “Really? You will really come back?”

Azriel cupped her cheeks. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

Y/N hands held onto his wrists. “I will be waiting.”

His thumb brushed across her cheek. “I will be here as soon as I can.”

“You better,” Y/N said. “And you better be good with your hands because I expect you to fix my fence.”

Azriel laughed, not not bothering to hide his amusement. “Is that all you want me for? You rebuild your garden decoration.”

“And to fly me around,” Y/N replied. “Why else would I need you?”

“I can think of a few things,” Azriel whispered and watched as Y/N looked to the floor flustered. 

Azriel smiled fondly at Y/N as he tilted her chin up. “I will return tomorrow, Y/N.”

Their lips touched and before Y/N could process exactly what was happening, Azriel had pulled away, a smug smile on his face. He stepped back and Y/N gaped at him.

“You can’t just do that and then leave!” Y/N exclaimed. 

“Why? I thought you only wanted me for construction and flying?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes before she marched up to Azriel and tugged him down until their lips crashed together. Y/N took the lead in the kiss, and Azriel allowed her. Her lips were soft and Azriel needed more of her. He needed to feel those lips everywhere on his body. 

Before Azriel could wrap his arms around her and pull her body against his, Y/N pulled away. A smug smile now on her face. 

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Azriel,” Y/N said, stepping back. 

It was Azriel’s turn to gape at her and Y/N only laughed, a sound Azriel wished to hear again and again and again. 

“Maybe if you build my fence well, I’ll let you continue that,” Y/N said. 

Azriel smirked. “I will build that fence so that it outshines every other fence ever built.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Azriel,” Y/N said before turning her back to him and walked back into the warmth of her house.

Azriel waited until she closed the door before shooting to the sky to fly back home– a bright smile on his face. 

***

“I went back nearly every night,” Azriel said. “Any free time I had, I spent with her. We could never make it official but she had bought us rings. She said that despite the fact that we couldn't get married, she wanted to call me her husband.”

Azriel pulled a chain from around his neck, a simple gold band threaded on it, next to it a ring with a simple gen in the middle, the exact colour of Azriel’s siphons. Y/N had urged Azriel to take it before she passed. 

“I called her my wife for forty-four years,” Azriel explained.

“Why did you never tell us?” Rhys asked. “You could have brought her here, I would have protected her.”

Azriel shook his head. “I didn’t want to take any risk. I would happily risk my safety to keep crossing into the mortal lands but I would never risk hers.”

Azriel looked down at the rings on the chain and more tears welled in his eyes. It was the first time he had seen her ring off her finger since he had slipped it on. “I miss her. I really miss her.”

Cassian simply wrapped his arm around his brother and let him let out the tears. 

“I tried to convince myself not to get too attached to her,” Azriel said. “I really tried but the more I tried to force myself to leave, the more I began to fall in love with her. She was so easy to love.”

Rhys smiled sadly at his brother. “I wish we could have met her.”

“You would have loved her,” Azriel replied, he hadn’t torn his gaze away from the two rings. “Can I be alone for a moment?”

Cassian simply shared a look with Rhys and the two offered Azriel a squeeze of support before standing to their feet and leaving the room. Azriel remained in silence.

Tears fell down his cheeks as he pressed her ring to his lips, kissing it just as he had before he placed it on her finger. It hadn’t been long since Y/N had passed, yet Azriel dreaded everything that came after. He dreaded waking up in the mornings and not being able to pull her close to him. The left side of the bed would always be cold. 

Azriel clutched the two rings in his fist and cried silently. He would never hear her laugh or see her smile, always so bright it lit up any room. He would never wrap his arms and wings around her whenever she was having a bad day and he would never feel the comfort of her arms around him whenever he was feeling down. 

As the tears fell, Azriel swore he felt a hand caress his cheek. His eyes remained closed but as he felt another caress he opened them, his vision slightly blurred by the tears. However, through them he could still make out a faint figure. 

It was Y/N, looking the same as the day they met. 

“Y/N…” Azriel whispered as he tried to reach out but his hand fell though empty air. 

Y/N’s soft smile graced her face as she simply leaned forward and pressed her lips against her forehead. Azriel could barely feel it but he would recognise her kiss anywhere. He savoured it, knowing that it was the last time he would ever feel it. 

As she pulled away Azriel watched as she faded more and more, the sun shining through the window rendering her practically invisible but Azriel could still make out her face. A face that he would never forget. 

“I love you.”

Her voice was barely a whisper and it sounded like it was coming from all directions at once. 

“I love you too,” Azriel replied. “I love you and I always will.”

The same bright smile Azriel loved spread across her face as she blew him a kiss before she completely disappeared. Azriel’s eyes remained on where she had stood. He still couldn’t figure out if she was real or if it was just a figment of his imagination. But those touched felt real. 

Azriel looked back at the two rings on the chain. He slid his own from it. He had never been able to wear it when he wasn’t with Y/N. With his job at the Night Court, he never wanted any potential enemies to find out about her. But now…now he could freely wear it. Azriel slipped his own ring onto his finger and smiled. It felt right. 

He pressed one final kiss to Y/N’s before he tucked it back under his shirt, feeling the cool metal press against his chest, just over his heart. 

Azriel wiped the tears from his face and let out a deep breath before exiting Rhys’s office, seeking out the comfort of his brothers. With time he knew that he would be okay, he didn’t know if that would be in ten years or a hundred years but he knew that one day he would be okay. 

[goosewithtwoos]

SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Bob x Reader

Summary: Phoenix left some aphrodisiac brownies at your house - you accidentally eat one

DISCLAIMER: yeah i got no fwicking clue how aphrodisiacs work so this is more of a crack post than anything don’t take it too seriously

“You brought brownies!” You squeal, running up to hug your best friend.

Phoenix was carrying a small box of brownies that were perfectly decorated with powdered sugar. Your mouth was watering just looking at them.

“Hands off!” She cries, holding them over her head. “It’s a gift for someone. I’m going to a bachelorette party later.”

You pout. “Not even one?”

“Not even one.”

The two of you head inside, catching up on things and discussing plans for your next official leave. You were trying to schedule a trip with everyone down to Sanibel island off the coast of Florida but Hangman was being difficult and said the time he’d spent in Pensacola had been enough to last a lifetime.

You helped Phoenix get ready for the party, doing her makeup for her. Having grown up with four older brothers, Phoenix had never had time to play with makeup. You didn’t mind - in fact, you loved doing makeup for other people.

After about 45 minutes, a phone rang. Phoenix picks hers up only to find that it was your phone that was ringing.

You grab it off the vanity and check the caller ID.

Bob.

You show your phone to Phoenix who grins wildly. She’s known about your crush on her WSO ever since she had introduced you.

“Hello?” You ask tentatively. It was rare that he’d call you. Typically, he’d call someone else and ask them to ask you something.

“Hey, uh, sorry this is weird for me to call. I was just wondering -“

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You looked at Phoenix, silently pleading with her for help.

‘Put him on speaker’ She mouths. You quickly do so, holding your breath lest he notices the change.

“I have your credit card. You left it at the Hard Deck last night and Penny gave it to me. I was wondering when would be a good time to drop it off?”

‘Right now!’ Phoenix mouths.

‘Right now?’ You mouth back, looking at the state of your room and yourself in the mirror. She nods frantically, turning around and quickly reorganizing your things back into the drawers.

“Umm…well I’m home right now if you wanted to bring it over.” You hoped you came across at least slightly suave instead of a panicking mess.

“Oh!” Bob sounded caught off guard. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to leave it in your mailbox?”

Phoenix whips her head around. ‘No!’

“No? I mean, no! I’ve uh…been having a lot of mail theft recently. You can never been too careful.”

Bob hummed. “Mail theft is a huge deal. You should report it. I remember my sister had a problem with that for a while too.”

Bless. his. heart.

“Yeah…” Your voice died off, trying to figure out if this actually was real life or simply some dream. Bob was coming over. Your heart fluttered at the idea. “So! Um, when should I expect you?”

“Maybe like 30 minutes? I just left the PX and rush hour is kinda crazy at this time of day.”

Phoenix was grinning wickedly. She gave you two thumbs up and the look in her eyes told you that maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.

You made a noise of agreeance in the back of your throat. “Sounds perfect.”

The next 30 minutes of your life we’re some of the most stress inducing you’d ever faced. You wanted everything to be perfect. Phoenix had high tailed it out of there, nearly forgetting her purse, and you sped cleaned the whole house like the president was coming to visit.

Sure, he was probably just going to come to the door, drop off your card, and leave but the small glimmer of hope you held made you clean. Maybe this time you’d actually have the balls to ask him to come inside.

A soft knock at your door announced his arrival. You scrambled from the couch, brushing down your shirt and fixing your hair before answering the door.

“Hey!” He choked out, taking in your figure. Your flight suit was pretty conservative along with you cammies. It was a rare occasion for him to see you in your civilian clothes. “This is for you.”

You took the card from him, careful to not accidentally brush his hand with yours.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I could have forgotten this.” You quickly shove the card into your back pocket for safe keeping.

He quickly shoved his hands in his front pocket and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say and didn’t trust yourself to not randomly blurt out an ‘I love you’, so you settled for an awkward silence.

After you both had stared at each other for far too long, he gave you a quick nod and started to pivot away. “Well, guess I’ll see you back at in on Monday.”

Damn it, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to invite him in and talk and maybe watch a movie and hold hands a little. Not have him walk away after less than a minute on your doorstep.

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, surprising not only him but also yourself. “I have to give you something as an appreciation. I probably have a beer or something.” Fucking dumbass.

He turned back towards you, removing his hands from his pockets.

“I won’t take a beer but I will take a water.”

You stepped out of the doorframe allowing room for him to enter. “I do in fact also have water.”

He entered and then followed as you walked to the kitchen. It was small but good enough to make borderline decent meals. You weren’t much of a chef anyways and ate at the chow hall more than you’d care to admit.

“Do you want ice and a glass or just a bottle?” You ask, turning to the cupboard.

“Just a glass, no ice.” He said, taking in your decor.

This wasn’t a permanent lodging, just for the time you’re stationed here, but you still liked to decorate a little bit. Felt more like something you could call home.

You poured a glass and handed it to him, brushing his fingers as you did.

Your heart picked up from the slight touch and you cursed yourself for being such a child. You were a Naval aviator, you should be able to touch someone without having your mind go completely blank. Yet alas. Your mind was gone the moment his fingers touched yours.

He took a sip, then motioned with his chin to a tupperware sitting on the counter. “You just make those?”

You tilted your head, confused on how the hell a tupperware ended up on your counter. You went to inspect it only to find they were the brownies Phoenix had brought over for the bachelorette party. She must have forgotten them in her hurry to leave.

“Uh, these actually aren’t even mine.” You admit, wondering if it would be worth calling her back for them or not. She’d probably already be there by now. Guess if she really wanted them she would have called and asked. “Phoenix made them. She stopped by earlier and I guess she left them.”

His shoulders slumped a little bit at the news.

“But it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna come back for them any time soon and it would be a real shame to waste them.” You quickly follow up. The look on his face was worth it. You didn’t really want a brownie but you knew he wouldn’t eat one if you didn’t.

You pulled two paper towels and grabbed a brownie for the both of you, handing one to him and smelling yours. God, it smelled so good. Were these really made by Phoenix? They smelled like they were made by chocolatiers from some fancy Paris bakery.

“To Bob, for returning my card.” You said as a mock toast. He raised his brownie in turn before you took a bite in tandem.

Holy shit - they tasted even better than they smelled.

You quickly finished yours before grabbing a glass of water for yourself.

Bob stayed for a while, chatting in your kitchen about everything and anything. The conversation was completely normal so it was surprising when you felt the intense need to get off.

Your heart rate picked up rapidly and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your replies slowly turned from interesting, full and comprehensive sentences, to a mix of ‘mhm’ and ‘oh yeah’. God, why couldn’t you get control of yourself?

“Do you wanna go sit down?” You gasp out, fingers gripping the cup for dear life.

“Yeah, good idea.” Bob was looking much more pale than usual but you chocked that up to your terrible lighting and white countertops.

The two of you sat in the living area, a far enough distance from each other on the couch to make it awkward. You pulled your knees to your chest, hoping that the squeezing of your thighs would be able to help alleviate some of the feeling.

What was happening? You typically had self control but this was excessive. God, you needed a cold shower.

“So - uh - how’s your sister?” You also, trying to think of the least sexy topic.

“Good.” His reply was short and quick. His chest was heaving slightly, looking like he had just run a mile. Was he feeling the same thing you were? His composure seemed to be dissolving just like yours. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit warm. Do you mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his sweater, lightly tugging at the bottom.

You screamed internally. “Of course.” Fuck, once he mentioned heat, your whole body exploded and you needed to take a polar plunge.

Even once his sweater was off, he kept readjusting.

“I’ll turn a fan on.” The moment you stood, you knew something was really wrong. Your legs were like jello. Your heart was racing as your body ached with desperation.

The fan did little to help you cool off and the feeling was simply just getting worse. You had been talking about something, taxes maybe? Something that should have been a complete turn off but Bob was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.

Your voice trailed off when you realized he wasn’t even paying attention to what you were saying and you couldn’t even remember where your sentence had died off.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m trying to listen, I don’t…” He was audibly panting, adjusting his collar. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

The heat between your thighs was like nothing you’d ever felt before. “Mhm.” You manage to nod, trying desperately to not go insane. You needed his hands on you, like, yesterday.

In an instant, he pulled you into a lip bruising kiss, bucking his hips the moment you straddled him. He was so hard already, you were surprised by how needy he was before anything had even happened.

You kissed like the world was going to end. Like you needed each other like some sort of drug.

His hands found your waist, massaging your sides. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down on his, relishing the sounds he made. When his fingers slipped under your shirt, cold hands touching your warm skin, you gasped into his mouth.

“I need you so bad.” He whined.

“Say it again.” The pounding in your chest increased rapidly at his admission.

“I - I need you. Oh my God.” He cried as you bit down on the soft spot beneath his ear. “You can’t keep doing that.”

You smirk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive spot. “This?”

His whole body shook as he pulled you down tighter against him. “Y-yeah, that.” You couldn’t tell if the movement of your hips was your doing or his strong hands, pushing and pulling you back and forth.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He begs.

“God, yes, please.” You reply. His hands quickly pulled your t-shirt up and over, throwing it somewhere across the room.

Seeing your chest turned him feral. In an instant, his eyes darkened and all inhibition was gone.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, cupping your chest through your bra and squeezing. “I could die in between these.”

“Fuck me first.” You pant. You felt like your whole body was on fire. You needed friction, for him to touch you, anything.

He leaned forward and licked from the center of your chest slowly up your neck. You’d never had anyone else do anything like that but it was hot all the same. A strong hand lightly gripped your throat, pressing down enough to feel something but not enough to cut off any blood flow.

“God, you’re gorgeous. Could keep you on my lap forever.” He growls.

Something about the possessiveness made your mind short circuit.

“Robert.” You moan, pressing yourself down again. Every nerve was on fire. You were on fire. You were going to burn and you were going to burn with him.

“I got you, honey.” His southern drawl slowly making its way into his speech. You’d always been interested in saving a horse and riding a cowboy, and now seemed like a good time to try it.

You smashed your mouths back together and began pawing at the bottom of his shirt. You wanted it off but you didn’t want to peel yourself away from him.

He made quick work of the buttons on your shorts, pulling down the zipper and pressing two fingers against you. It felt so good - too good - and you needed him now.

"Please, please, please." You were begging a man, and you couldn't care less.

“I got you baby, you don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you so good.” His fingers were inside you, working you open, thumb pressing against your clit.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony and pleasure as he presses against your g-spot.

“Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else. You were riding his fingers like a pro, swiveling your hips and grinding down like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“I need…I need you in me.” You moan out.

“I am in you.” He teases, biting down on your shoulder.

This cocky little son of a - “Robert Jameson Floyd.” You whine again. You’d never been reduced to whining and begging before but suddenly, it was the only thing you could do.

He groans when you call him by his full name. His fingers pull out, tapping your folds a few times before being pulled from your shorts completely. He lifts them and - damn him - sticks them into his mouth, acting as if it was the most delicious thing he’d had all week. “You need to take these off.”

Brilliant idea.

You stand, quickly removing your shorts and panties in a fluid move. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes them down. His boxers came off almost immediately afterwards and your eyes went wide.

You’d known he was pretty. Hell, he was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen, but you didn’t realize that every inch of him was going to be pretty. And big.

You swallow, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was panting, looking at you and you realized you didn’t feel self conscious at all. You felt good, safe, and sexy. You’d probably ask to marry him if he could fuck you as good as he was saying he could.

“How’d you want this?” He asks.

“You’re from Texas, right?” You ask and he nods. “I’ve always been interested in saving horses.”

He throws his head back, laughing. “If it weren’t you standing naked in front of me right now, I’d be getting up and leaving. That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Get over here.”

You suppress a laugh, sitting back down on his lap, feeling him hard as a rock underneath you. "Your shirts coming off." You say, pulling at it.

He removes his glasses, shaking his head lightly, tousling his hair even more than your hands had. With or without his glasses, he made it hard to breathe. When he removes his shirt, you were sure he'd knocked the wind out of you entirely.

Your mind couldn't think of anything to say so you opted for leaning down and capturing him into another kiss. His large hands wrap around your side, kneading the flesh beneath. You had began rocking your hips back and forth without even realizing it until his hand stopped you.

"I want to get inside you before I come from just this." He admits, resting his forehead against yours.

You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "Yeah, yeah that's a good idea."

You lift your hips as he lines himself up. Much to your pleasure, he didn't force you down and allowed for you to go at your own pace. It had been a while and you were tight. He hisses through his teeth as you sink down.

"Fit inside me so good." You tell him. He throws his head back, letting out a low moan. You were glad he wasn't the type of man who tried to silence himself. He sounded so beautiful. "Could stay here forever."

"Fuck me first." He says, bucking his hips ever so slightly, echoing your words from earlier.

Who were you to decline such a polite request?

You lift yourself up, enjoying how his eyes immediately snap down to watch where you're connected. The grip on your hips tightens as you go back down.

It felt like your senses were heightened. Every inch of him was sending flames through you. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and Bob looked no better.

He was watching intensely as you moved, mouth ajar. You press your hands against his chest and lean forward ever so slightly. The change of angles makes you see stars.

"Oh my God." You cry out. He felt impossibly deep and so, so good.

"Feels better than I ever thought possible." He groans. "Just like you were made for me."

"Thought about this before?" You tease, spelling your name with your hips. What size ring was he?

Bob's hand leaves your waist and trails down to your clit. "Often." With a light pinch, you're doubling over, crying out with a mix of broken moans and his name.

"You're gonna make me come fast if you keep doing that." You warn him. As much as you wanted to come, the thought of this being over made you want to hold off as long as possible.

He pinches again. "I'm no better, darlin. Come whenever, I'll be right behind you." The feeling of him inside you was making you crazy. You were losing your mind and felt entirely content with it. "Fuck, keep doing that."

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching. You'd never come this quickly before and it would be embarrassing if Bob weren't so stunningly handsome and crying out just as much as you were. Sweat was beading on his forehead, causing his baby hairs to stick down.

You run your hand across his head, moving both the hairs and his head back. He looks at you, all fucked out, and the sight alone is perfect shower head masturbation material for the next few months.

"You're so beautiful." He says, his eyes glazed over, like he couldn't believe that you were real. "Can't believe this is real."

You moan in agreeance. This was beyond your wildest dreams. You would have never imagined this as a possible scenario for how the day would go. Part of you began to worry this was all a dream and you'd wake up to find your credit card was in your wallet the whole time.

He shifted and your world exploded. He was deeper than you ever thought possible. God, it felt so good. So, so good. Too good.

"Robert, I'm gonna come." You cry out, gripping his shoulders like a vice. His lips wrap around your chest, sucking and biting down, the harsh breath feeling like Heaven and Hell all at the same time, before he roughly pulls back.

"You gotta get up before I come inside you." He warns, the grip on your hips loosening.

You force your hips back down, tightening your thighs around him. "I'm on the pill, I wanna feel you. Give it to me, please?" You asked it so innocently but your words were filthy.

"Yeah?" He breathes out. "Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?" You clench around him. "You like that, huh? Like the idea of me marking you as mine. Tell me you want it."

"I want it, I want it." You chant. "Please give it to me. Need to feel you inside me."

He takes your other breast into his mouth, bouncing you with more urgency. "Gonna fill you up so good." You hear him mumble around you.

He pinches your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm rips through you and you're coming harder than you've come before around him. You can tell you're saying something but your mind is so blank, you're not quite sure what it is.

"Holy fuck." He moans, hips stilling as you feel him come inside you.

You're both panting, resting foreheads against each other. You can feel him spilling out but make no effort to move. This was something you'd want to savor for as long as you lived. A size 10 ring would probably fit him nicely.

He presses a kiss to your cheek. His hands pull your hair from your face back into a makeshift pony tail from where it had been sticking to your neck with sweat before letting it fall. "You're amazing."

You laugh lightly, never having been told that after getting absolutely railed before. "I think that belongs to you. I've never had someone make me come that quickly before."

"Same." He agrees. He finds his glasses, putting them on and blinking rapidly to readjust his vision. "A goddess, for sure."

You laugh and swat at his chest. "A cowboy, for sure." He groans, rolling his head back.

“Oh, who the fuck is calling me right now?” You breathed out as your phone began ringing, pulling you from your lovely little bubble. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was. It was Phoenix. You didn't get off him, simply grabbing your phone from the table and answering “Hello?”

“Hey girl, I’m so sorry I just realized I left the brownies at your place! Don’t eat them okay? They’re for a prank.” Her voice was rushed as she got out every word.

“What do you mean ‘they’re for a prank’?”

“They’re aphrodisiac.”

Ah.

[marvelsmylife]

Enchanted

Pairing: Cassian x reader

Plot: Cassian finds his mate during Starfall

A/n I was watching the Eras tour last night (yes I’m a die hard Swiftie) and was inspired to write this when she performed Enchanted. I decided to write it about Cassian because I feel like he needs more love on here.

Cassian really didn’t want to be here celebrating, not when a few months ago he nearly died during the battle with Hybern. He reluctantly agreed, only because he wanted to please his high lord and lady, but if it was up to him, he would be locked away in his room.

After only being at the celebration for a few hours, Cassian was ready to make an excuse to leave the party.

That’s when he spotted you in the middle of the dance floor, dancing alone, with no care in the world. Cassian couldn’t help but admire your free spirit and wondered if you came to the celebration with a significant other or if you came here with friends. He didn’t know why, but he started growing jealous at the thought of you possibly being here with another male.

“That’s y/n,” Rhysand commented, and scared Cassian because he didn’t realize his brother was standing next to him: “She’s good friends with Feyre,” Rhysand added when he realized Cassian was probably wondering how he knew what your name was: “You should go dance with her. From what Feyre has told me, she got out of a relationship not long ago and is trying to get out and have some fun.”

The old Cassian would jump at the chance to bed a beautiful female like yourself, but he couldn’t bring him to do it, at least not tonight: “I’m not like that anymore,” Cassian replied. 

Rhysand gave Cassian an amused look at his explanation and earned a punch from his brother: “I’m trying not to be like that anymore. I want what you and Feyre have. I want to find my mate but don’t know how I’ll find her. How did you know Feyre was your mate?”

Rhysand began explaining what he felt before finding out Feyre was his mate. Halfway through Rhysand’s explanation, Cassian couldn’t help but look over at you again and felt as if someone knocked the wind out of him. Rhysand seemed to notice and patted Cassian on the shoulder: “I’m going to repeat myself: go ask y/n, your mate to dance.”

Without giving himself a chance to second guess himself, Cassian walked up to you and lightly tapped your shoulder: “How can I-” You went silent when you made eye contact with Cassian: “General Cassian, how may I help you?”

“Dance with me?” Cassian asked, point blank: “Please?”

There were gasps from jealous females as they watched Cassian extend his hand to you: “I would be honored to dance with you,” you smiled at Cassian and took his hand.

Luck seemed to be on Cassian’s side that night because the second he pulled you up against his chest, a slow song started playing. “So general,” you spoke to break the tension between the two of you: “How are you enjoying Starfall?”

“Please, call me Cassian, and it’s better now that I’m dancing with the most beautiful female in all of Prythian,” Cassian replied; a warm smile appeared on his face: “What about you?”

You tried not to let Cassian’s words get to you, but a shy smile crept up on your face at his compliment: “I was doing ok until a handsome Illyrian man complimented me, and now I don’t know how to act.”

Cassian felt his ego boost at your comment and found himself holding you a little tighter. He was about to ask you when Rhysand announced the show was about to begin. Cassian leaned in and whispered into your ear: “Come with me. I know a better view.”

You were going to question him where because you already had a perfect view of the sky when Cassian decided to carry you bridal style out and into the skies. “Cassian, where are you taking me. We’re going to miss the stars,” you asked while burying your face into Cassian’s chest.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still see it,” Cassian reassured you.

You were starting to get worried about where Cassian was taking you until he finally landed on a mountaintop. “Did you bring me here to get murdered?”

Cassian tried not to laugh at your question: “No, I didn’t bring you here to get murdered. I brought you here so we could watch this,” Cassian pointed to the sky and noticed the stars passing by: “I brought you here so we can watch this without any background noise.”

You were in awe as you looked up at the sky and saw stars shooting across the sky. “No matter how many times I’ve seen this, I’ll never get tired of it,” you gushed: “Good call coming over here to watch it. While I love celebrating with others, it’s nice to watch this in silence.”

While your eyes were glued to the sky, Cassian stared down at you with nothing but love and adoration. He couldn’t believe that after so long, he was finally face to face with this mate. His only problem was that he didn't know if he should let you know right away that you mates or if he should wait until you get to know each other better.

Feeling Cassian’s stare, you looked up at him confused: “What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” you started touching your cheeks.

Cassian found himself chuckling at your question and replied: “No. I’m just admiring your beauty,” causing your cheeks to turn warm.

“You Illyrian males are something else,” you smiled at the Illyrian male. 

Something inside Cassian finally snapped, and he found himself leaning in to kiss you. You were expecting the kiss to be rough and rushed, but it was the complete opposite. Cassian was kissing you so gently, like he was afraid you were going to break under his touch. His large, rough hands were resting at the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You didn’t know how long you kissed Cassian, but you started craving more of him. He was all you could think of, and you started to feel a sense of dread at the mere thought of being away from him. As soon as Cassian pulls away, you hear the words you never thought you’d hear in your lifetime, especially from someone like Cassian: “I thought I’d never find you, my beautiful mate.”

“Mate?” you repeated in surprise: “We’re mates?”

Cassian simply nodded, worried sketched on his face. He was afraid you would reject him, even though you shared what he thought was an extraordinary kiss.

“Mates,” you repeated once again; this time, you smiled up at him: “You’re my mate.”

“I’m your mate,” Cassian leaned in again, but just as he was about to kiss you, he whispered: “Happy Starfall, my beautiful mate,” and kissed you again.

[shamelessfaceless]

Love, Pain, Death, Repeat

Navigation | Marvel masterlist | part II

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x F!reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: Even death won't help you get rid off her and pain she caused.

Warnings: Mentions of death, cheating, angst

Wc: 600

A/n: Just a fast sad blurb, hope you like this <33

Your mouth is dry, completely opposite to your eyes. Pinning Natasha to the ground you let your tears fall. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but after hearing what you needed to do, you were sure it was the time.

"Think about Yelena! Your facking sister! Think what would she say if I told her that you killed yourself!" You yelled at her though she was so close to you she would hear your whispers.

"And you? You have a whole life ahead of you! You're so young! You are doing what you need, you're nice and brave, you put others before you, you are a hero people need!"

"I don’t have anyone! Anyone! I spent last years crying in my room! People don’t remember me! I don’t even remember who I am."

"Y/N" She tried to change positions. You didn't let her. You couldn't let her.

"I am not enough. I never was. Everyone knows Black Widow or Iron Man or Hawkeye! Even she showed me I was never enough!" You were almost sobbing, your tears falling on Natasha’s suit. "She choosed fucking microwave!"

When you saw Wanda for the first time, you fell almost in the same second. Literally fell. You wanted to come closer, but your legs had other plans, and you fell straight into her arms. This made her laugh. That was the first thing that actually made her show positive emotions after her brother died. Most of the night spended in your room only talking changed into spending nights in yours and hers own room. After your old relationships you were negative about love, but you started trusting her, it meant so much for you. She promised you stars. It didn't take long for her to take interest in Vision. You trusted her with your whole heart, and all she did was break it. He was just a robot, you thought you didn't need to care about him. Maybe he was a little bit too nice to Wanda, but she wouldn’t fall for cold metal, right? Oh how wrong you were. After one of the missions, you came back to your room just to see her covered in hickeys that for sure weren’t yours. You just sat on the floor and told her to get out.

"You will meet someone else. Just give yourself a chance. For fucking sake, if you let yourself forget her, you will find true love and maybe have kids or cats." Russian was strong, you started feeling like your arms were going to give up.

"She cheated on me, and soon after she disappeared. Women always choose men." You said disgustedly. Your every relationships ended because they chose to be with men. "Tell everyone I loved them." You stabbed her hand to distract her.

You started running to the end of the cliff. Black Widow’s screams didn’t stop you. Just as you jumped you looked behind to see Natasha, she was so close catching you, just a few seconds and you would be still alive. You smiled to her wondering if she could see it, and closed your eyes. Last thing in your mind was the memory of one specific lazy morning with Maximoff. Morning when she promised you cozy life, no avengers, just you and her in a big house and kids.

…

Opening your eyes you expected to see your dead parents, not two young boys.

"Good morning my love." Your head snapped to the door of the room. Wanda stood there, width smile on her lips, her eyes shining a little bit with red.

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Five

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Angst, implied SA, Tamlin and Amarantha are mentioned, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s off on a mission, so you train with Cassian. Upon returning, the Spymaster doesn’t like seeing you with his brother.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

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Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four

The next morning, you were up early but no one was there for breakfast with you. And instead of Azriel, Cassian was in the training ring. “Oh… is Azriel not here today?” You asked.

“He’s got some spying to do, so I’ll keep up with your training.” He said.

Of course Azriel wouldn’t want to keep training you along with his spying. He had so many more important things to do than babysit an amateur Shadowsinger. And it was very apparent from the training session yesterday that you didn’t know nearly as much as him.

“You ready? Or do you need to stare off into the distance for a little longer?” Cassian said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m ready, Commander.” You teased, getting in the position he started with the warm ups.

Cassian was more brutal than Azriel was, enough so that you were thinking Azriel was going easy on you. The prick. Cass made you sit in squats for longer, balance with your wings stretched out or tucked in more. It was all you could do by the end of it to not fall down the stairs to the House.

“Az said to give you these.” Cassian said and handed you a basket, your muscles groaning at the extra weight. “Said something about an owing you a massage when he got back.”

Your eyes widened and face flushed before you heard Cassian let out a loud chuckle. “You’re almost as bad as him.” He said and laughed. “For spies, you sure don’t hold back when you get embarrassed.” Cass said and winked at you before going to the dining room.

You set the basket in your room, opting to take a bath first before you went to the dining room to dig into the roast that was waiting for you. Then, you went to the library to start on your research into the Cauldron.

You never saw Gwyn. Though Rhys told you that the new priestesses normally took a while to adjust before being out of their dorms. What happened to her just yesterday made your stomach turn… and you couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her to wake up today in a new place. You’d have to ask Clotho how she was doing when you got the chance.

You didn’t learn anything new about the Cauldron, but you brought more books up to the personal library to read more.

You still wondered how Feyre was doing with Tamlin. You remember when Rhys told you the story of what Tamlin’s family did to Rhys’s mother and sister. And how Tamlin himself had killed Rhys’s father. Hearing about the rage that Tamlin held that day… you’d hope it had changed. You’d hoped that Feyre was happy with him, and that he would treat her well. Still, the thought of Feyre with him was unsettling to you. You couldn’t figure it out, and your shadows seemed to be just as disturbed by it whenever it came to your mind.

As you read into the night, waiting to see if you heard Azriel come back, you couldn’t help as your mind wander to how lucky you were that you ended up here after Amarantha died. How you found friends that seemed to care about you, and a High Lord that didn’t just want to use you for his own bidding, but wanted you around because he trusted you. You could get used to calling Velaris, in all its beauty, your home. And these new friends your family.

Azriel didn’t come back to the House of Wind for two weeks. Cassian had taken up your training, and you were already learning how to handle a sword (with the wooden practice ones) when Azriel watched you both from the steps.

He had been searching for the other parts of the Cauldron, ordering his spies to find out anything they could about what Hybern planned to do with it. And he only figured out that Hybern had Jurian’s eye and finger bone. Someone had snuck it off of Amarantha’s body before Tamlin killed her. He still couldn’t find out how, or who.

Seeing you work with Cassian strained something in him. A desire to be around you, or the jealousy that Cass was training you and he wasn’t. Azriel couldn’t tell what it was. Either way, he was almost proud to see you doing so well. What took most young Illyrian’s years to master, you had seem to do it in two weeks. All while taking flying lessons with Cassian as well. Cass told him that you were doing great with all of it. Better than any male he’s trained, actually. And you took it in stride too. Doing everything that Cassian threw at you. He even loaded a pack on your chest two days ago and had you fly up and down the mountain for two hours. You were almost ready to throw the pack at him by the end of it. But you knew it was to build up your strength. If you were going to be carrying Illyrian blades and a bow, you would need it.

Azriel knew you could do good. From the moment you agreed to train, he knew you had the motivation in you to do it. Whether it be from hate of what your family did to you, or from dedication to not let it happen again, he knew you would do it. He wanted to be the one to train you. He wanted to see that dedication every day. He hadn't seen an Illyrian learn so fast in a long time, and he knew it was a testament to an underlying power that brewed within you. That his shadows whispered to him about.

And yet, he took the first mission Rhys offered. There was something about you that pulled his attention every time you were in the room. And he couldn’t place it. His shadows wouldn’t tell him anything. And your few shadows that danced around his ankles up to his hands and neck whenever he was close to you drove him crazy. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of you but also didn’t want to get too close. He couldn’t handle getting close and you pushing him away. Or going for another male like Rhys or Cass. Like Mor had done when she chose Cassian over him. And then never acknowledged him more than a close friend. Family. Nothing like he wanted. He may have given up on her a long time ago, but sometimes it still stung.

So he took the mission to keep his distance. No matter the tug he felt when he was around you. He fought it. And kept his thoughts and emotions about you to himself.

“Azriel!” He heard your voice say, followed by a yelp when Cassian hit your stomach with the butt of the sword.

“Really, Cass?” You growled and nudged him away before jogging over to Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?” You asked, catching your breath.

“We’re not done!” Cassian yelled at you, but you simply stared at Azriel, waiting for an answer.

All Azriel could do was trail his eyes up the leathers you were wearing. The way they clung to your curves. The way they were already filled out much more than they were that first training day. Your hair was in a braid, but little wisps if it were out, clinging to your forehead with sweat.

“Azriel?” You asked again, not shifting under his stare like you had before. Training like this with Cassian had made you much more confident. Like you were before Amarantha came and tore your life apart. You still didn’t want to admit how much those 50 years effected you. Even if they were still recent. You wanted to put them in the past and not think about them any more that you were required. And luckily, no one had asked you much after the first day of telling them your story.

Cassian bounded over, patted Azriel on the shoulder in a way of greeting, and then picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” You yelled and clenched your fists. “Put me down,” you ground out.

“No chance, you are still training. And no pretty boy is going to distract you. Got it?” He asked and you grumbled. “Got it?” He asked again.

“Yes! Cauldron… Now put me down before I start clawing your wings.” You said firmly. He set you down back in the middle of the training ring and handed you the sword you discarded.

“What’s the number one rule I taught you about your weapon?” He asked.

“The pointy end goes away from you?” You remarked, earning a swipe of his own sword, which you blocked. “Don’t drop it in the middle of a fight without a purpose.” You said and knocked his sword back.

Azriel watched as you bantered with Cassian almost as seamlessly as you fought. At one point, you had Cassian so speechless and stunned that you were able to knock his sword from his hand. It was at that point that Cassian knocked you from your feet, your sword clattering much farther away from you than his. Cass always did want to be the one to win the battle.

It was everything Azriel could do to not go and help you out. Or coach you on how to get out from under him. Especially since Cassian was much larger than you. Not to mention better trained.

He must have been feeling generous, or you got the drop on him (probably the former) because you were able to use his weight against him and flip the two of you over so you were on top. Straddling his hips, your hands mere inches from the tips of his wings. Panting.

“Rhys wants us in the dining room for lunch.” Azriel called out, knowing that Rhys would wait. And if he really wanted you all to meet, he could speak mind-to-mind easily. But Azriel couldn’t stand to see you in that position with Cassian. And he couldn’t stop himself for imagining him under you instead. He quickly turned on his heel and vanished with his shadows back to his room.

“Just when it was getting fun.” You joked as you stood up and held out a hand for Cassian, who let out a booming laugh.

“Keep saying things like that and Az might slice me to bloody ribbons.” He joked and you shrugged.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t seem too interested in me.” You said as you grabbed a glass of water and downed it. “And if he is, he sure has a weird way of showing it. He ignored me the whole first month, trained me one day, and then disappeared on a two week mission. And he’s still ignoring me.” You muttered and downed another glass of water.

“Hmm… let’s show him what he’s missing, then,” Cass said and slung an arm around your shoulder, avoiding your wings. Your shadows curled away slightly from his touch. Not in a bad way, but in a way that didn’t happen with Azriel. They always curled around him. Even if he wasn’t touching you, but in the same room. You always tacked it up to him being a Shadowsinger himself, and maybe it was comforting for your shadows to have someone else to cling to. You still barely knew how the things worked. Even after having them around for a hundred years.

You knew how to hide in them, how to listen and talk to them, how to winnow with them. But not much else. It was still a hassle most of the time when you wanted to control them. So if a few of your shadows wanted a more experienced singer to cling to, you were more than willing to let them. For a little while. You still liked your shadows. If you ever had to go without them, you wouldn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t have the comforting feel of them whirling your ankles and wings. Throughout your hair.

“Come out with us tonight.” Cassian said once you made it down the stairs.

You looked up at his towering form and rose your eyebrows. “Where?” You asked. Even the first month of you here, you didn’t go out with them. You didn’t go into the city much either, barely even visited the town home. You didn’t want to impose on it just yet. And it was too many people who would be watching your every move. Like they did when you worked for her. So you stayed in the House. And you liked it. Plus, you started to see Gywn around the library, not speaking to anyone, but at least she was out of her dorm.

“To Rita’s. I know Mor would love it. She’s been complaining that you didn’t come last week.” He said and you smiled a bit. You quite liked the female. She was bright and full of energy. And she didn’t take shit from the boys. And barely took it from Amren, who still scared you enough to not meet her eye.

“I don’t have much to wear.” You said, Cassian cringing as you both heard a yelp from down the stairs to the dining room.

“Did I hear that we’re going shopping?” Mor said and bounded over to the bottom of the stairs, bouncing on her heels.

“I didn’t say that.” You teased as you stepped down beside her.

“Oh, please? I’ll help you pick out the perfect outfit.” She said and nudged you. You winced a bit, still sore from the training. Your braid was still a mess. But you didn’t care, you were starving and just wanted to eat. Even if you looked ridiculous.

As if reading your thoughts, your shadows swirled around your head, either covering or smoothing your hair, you couldn’t tell. Either way, you silently thanked them.

“Hmm.. fine. But I would prefer to go when it’s not too crowded…” you said and she gave you a knowing look. As if she too knew what it was like to want to hide away. You weren’t sure how she would ever feel like that. You figured she got more energy from being around people, new people, than anyone else. Where as for you… well you learned to like your solitude. Probably from the years you spent locked in your cabin while your family went to train. And then the years following that was spent in a village with no more than 50 inhabitants.

“So you’ll come out with us tonight?” Cassian asked as you entered the dining room with them.

Shrugging again, you answered, “Sure. Though if people start asking me to do party tricks with my shadows, I’m leaving.” You said and rolled your shoulders back, tucking in your wings.

“Trust us, they won’t. Not when Az is the only Shadowsinger they knew and he once stabbed someone for looking at him the wrong way.” Mor joked and you furrowed your eyebrows. Even though Azriel was a little cold to you, you could tell he was kind. Especially with the way this family acted with him.

“He was 38 and we were recovering from the war, remember?” Rhys added from his spot at the table. “And that was in Hewn. Everyone in Hewn would be stabbed if they looked at Az the way that male did.” He mentioned and then leaned back. He didn’t have his wings out today, so you figured this was a business lunch more than a formal one. They had all mainly been away, or you’d been I’m your room burying your nose in the books on the Cauldron. Or they had been meeting in the town home. Definitely not around you.

Soon you were all settled, Azriel appearing before the meal was served and sitting next to Rhys and Amren. Cassian was on your right, and Mor on your left. That left the other three across from you. It felt like someone was missing from the table, but as you counted around, you knew that was everyone.

After you had all ate a couple bites (Amren pushing her food around like always), Rhys looked up, setting his utensils down. “Cassian, I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys said. “See how the army is coming along. And if the females are being trained properly.” He said, then looked at you. “And I would prefer if you went along.” He said.

“Just with Cassian? Don’t you need to introduce me as emissary?” You asked and Rhys shook his head.

“Cass is the commander of my armies. If he says they’re to listen to you, they will.” Rhys said and you rose your eyebrows. You knew Illyrians. And you knew that wasn’t true. You also knew that Rhys knew it too. But you weren’t going to push, so you nodded.

“How long do you want me there?” Cassian asked.

“Two weeks, and then you can come back in time for the Solstice.” He said. “We’ll spend it in the townhome.”

“You think Devlon is ready for another Shadowsinger?” Azriel piped in.

“The question is, do you think Devlon is ready for the first female Shadowsinger?” Cassian asked.

You hummed. “I think you all need to be asking if Devlon is ready for me. I’m not just a Shadowsinger, you know.” You said, crossing your arms. “And I think the answer is no. Devlon used to be a friend of my father’s. He very might well faint when he recognizes me to be the daughter of Rechard Vash.” You stated and smirked.

“I like how you think, girl.” Amren said and leaned back in her chair, her arm draped over the arm of it. “I say Devlon has whatever is coming to him from her,” she said as she looked at Rhys.

He only chuckled as he went back to eating. “Was that it?” You asked and leaned forward. “Or should I leave so you can discuss what Azriel learned on that mission?” You asked.

None of them stiffened at your tone, or the implication that they didn’t trust you.

“I merely wanted to finish my food,” Rhys said with an easy smile. “But if you’re eager to learn about what the Spymaster learned, go ahead Az.” He said and took another bite of the roast.

“I didn’t learn anything useful,” Azriel said. “Well, other than that there are two pieces of the Cauldron missing and I still have no clue where the third one is. Though, it’s probably in a temple.” He said. “Hopefully here. If it’s in another Court… that’ll be harder to detect.” He finished.

“I never thought you’d be one to be down on yourself,” you said, taking a bite of vegetables. “Sounds like you learned quite a lot.”

Once again, he ignored you and looked at Rhys. “Any chance I can go back to Sangravagh and examine it again?” He asked and Rhys waved his hand. “Go where you need to, but I still have one more thing to ask of you when we’re done with lunch.” He said.

As much as you wanted to slump into your chair, you stayed still as you ate. You didn’t know what you did wrong to have Azriel act so indifferent towards you. Of all the Inner Circle, you thought you would bond with him the most. Being a Shadowsinger… it wasn’t easy. It was rare and the looks that you got. The burdens that you had to carry. You figured only he would understand. But he didn’t even try to speak to you.

And it continued into the night, after you went shopping with Mor. She even had Rhys’s in-house tailor fix all the clothing so your wings would fit seamlessly around them. All in time to go to Rita’s.

A/N: This is a fun little chapter with some of Az’s pov - a little longer than the rest. When the IC + our reader goes to Rita's in the next chapter... I think you'll enjoy it!!

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[charlie-lec-stories]

Invisible string // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Vettel!Sister

Summary: While on a difficult time in his life, Sebastian discovers that his family is way bigger than he thought.

Warnings: Alcohol and drugs consumption, strong language.

Author’s Note: This story is and is not about Charles, but it's a nice story and I thought that it would be nice to include it on this blog. I'm not comfortable with writing about the death of real people, so even though reader is Sebastian's little sister, I changed the names of his parents and to feel more comfortable with the plot. You have to remember that this stories are originally done for my own fictional characters and I adapt them to the F1 world to include Charles on them, so when I write about Sebastian's family I am not speaking of the real one. Rate: +16 (sensitive language and mature activities)

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"Sebastian, I'm so sorry for your loss". It was the tenth time he had heard that phrase in an hour, and even though he was grateful for so many people being there for him, he was sick and tired of the condolences. He smiled sadly at yet another friend of his father, Klaus, and quickly looked around, searching for Hanna, his wife, to save him from the situation. He found her at the other side of the room, she instantly understood him and made her way to where he was. She started some light conversation with the older man, sending Sebastian a complicit look, giving him his cue to leave. He swiftly escaped to the kitchen and hid there for a few minutes. 

"Hi, kid". Sebastian looked up to find Henry, his father's best friend. The British man was like family to Sebastian and now that his father had joined his mother in Heaven, Henry felt like the last piece of family Sebastian had. "I've been looking for you".

"Well, you found me. I thought I had done a better job at hiding though. I'm not really in the mood for more condolences". Henry pulled away a chair and sat next to him, patting his back lightly, trying to be as comforting as he could.

"You don't need to hide from me, Seb". They both laughed softly, the tension on Sebastian's back loosening a bit.

"I know. I'm just... overwhelmed, I think". He let out a long sigh, and Henry squeezed his shoulder, his heavy hand finding a home there.

"I know, I felt the same when my father passed away. My brother was a good help at the moment, he took care of everything, I just felt like it all was too much. I actually went to your father's and hid there for hours. Came back home, stoned as fuck, just in time to put the old man to the ground". Sebastian smiled, he knew that story, his father had told him about the time he and Henry smoked weed like two Woodstock hippies the day Henry's father died. "Klaus was a good friend, but sometimes I feel a big debt with my big brother, he really stepped up that day".

"You're lucky to have a brother to be there for you at a time like that. I think that's one of the cons of being a single child". Sebastian felt Henry tense up, and the warm hand that was once on his shoulder, now slipped away, as if Henry was unable to maintain the contact. "What? What is it?".

"Seb...". The tension grew so thick that Sebastian had to move away slightly. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. "You know I wasn't just your father's best friend, I was also his lawyer". The younger man nodded slowly, his narrowed and confused eyes focused on the older man. "I may just give you this now, I would rather see you next week for the will's reading with this information a little bit more processed".

"What are you talking about?". Henry looked inside his coat, taking an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to Sebastian, who took him with trembling hands. "Henry, what is this?".

"That's a letter your father wrote to you, twenty years ago". Sebastian took the letter out and started reading right away.

"A sister? A baby sister?". Henry saw the array of emotions that passed the younger man's eyes: confusion, anger, sadness, disappointment, happiness. Sebastian felt every emotion he was capable of in just a few seconds, as his father's words sunk in. The letter was about the time when his parents had briefly separated and Klaus had gone to Henry's home in England to spend a few weeks, while he decided what to do about his marriage. He wrote about how he met a lovely woman, and that after one night with her, he decided that he was getting a divorce, but then, a 9 years old Sebastian called him and asked him when he was coming home and he understood that he loved his life in Germany, with Sebastian and Lina, his wife. He left the lovely woman behind and went back home, just to get a call a year later, letting him know that he had a daughter but the lovely woman wanted nothing to do with him. The letter finished with Klaus begging for Sebastian's forgiveness. 

"He left half of everything he had to that little girl, who's not so little now. He asked me to find her once he passed away and let her know that there were some things that he wanted her to have, but, most importantly, he wanted you both to meet". Sebastian, who just then noticed that he was crying, wiped his tears away angrily.  

"Why? Why hide this from me?". Henry gathered the courage to place his hand on Sebastian again and ran his finger through the grieving man's blonde locks.

"Because he was too scared to do anything about this while he was alive, but he knew that you deserved to know the truth".

A week later, Sebastian was sitting in Henry's office, Hanna by his side and Henry drinking a cup of tea in front of him while they waited for the girl to show up. Henry found her in the same town Klaus had met her mother, a little town that was Henry's home for a short period of time in 1996. It was crazy, but she was born on July 3rd, 1997, exactly on Sebastian's 10th birthday. He had always wanted a little sibling so it kind of felt like a birthday present, one he had hoped to know about way sooner. They waited but as the minutes passed, Sebastian started to lose hope on ever meeting his sister. What if she didn't show up? What if she didn't want to meet him? Henry sent the letter, but she never answered. What if she just didn't care about her father's side of the family? Hanna grabbed his hand and he felt a little bit of comfort, but the fear in his heart could only subside with the mystery girl's presence. There were some muffled voices that rang on the other side of the door and Hanna turned around expectantly to see who they were, but Sebastian couldn't move, not even when the door opened and his wife gasped, him too afraid to turn around. 

"Good afternoon, is this Mr. Henry Wood's office?". Even if the thick Northern British accent took him by surprise, Sebastian was still petrified, and he saw Henry get up to welcome the people who walked in. 

"Yes, I'm Henry. You must be Eleanor". Two sets of feet could be heard and Sebastian understood that his sister didn't show up alone. They both reached the desk and just then, he could move to look up. There was an older woman, in her 50s, dark reddish hair and green eyes looking down at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Next to her was a younger girl, her face shared a lot of features with him, she was unmistakably his sister, a Vettel without a doubt. It was strange, looking at her, a complete stranger, and still finding himself looking back. Her hair was lighter than her mother's, but they both shared green eyes. 

"Yes, I'm Eleanor. This is Y/N". The girl shook Henry's hand, but she sat down not even looking at Sebastian once. 

"Seb, if you don't mind, I'd like to start with Y/N's part of the will". Hanna had to elbow him, because he was zoning out looking at the girl.

"Yes". He finally said, looking back at Henry and clearing his throat. "Of course I don't mind".

Henry took his time, properly going through every part of Klaus' will. The older German left the summer house, one car and half of his bank account to his estranged daughter, and the rest to Sebastian, which included the family home, one car and the other other half of the money. Y/N never said a word, if it wasn't for him constantly looking at her, he could have sworn that she wasn't even there. Eleanor spoke up a few times, asking about legal processes and such, she sounded like a sweet woman, but Sebastian could see that she was trying to put on her mean face, doing her best to protect her child. Hanna had excused herself in the middle of everything, a chaotic call from their children sending her out of the office to play referee between their arguing toddlers. Henry walked out once the will was completely read, telling them that he needed to grab some other papers for them to sign. Eleanor started telling her daughter about what they were going to do with the summer house, that they could keep it or sell it, that if she wanted to sell it, they could rent a hotel room and use the money to do some remodeling and sell it for a higher price. Y/N spoke for the first time, agreeing with the selling.

"You're welcome to stay with us-". Sebastian started, but Eleanor cut him off.

"No, thank you". She had a hard look on her face, but the broken gesture on Sebastian's softened her a little. "I made a choice twenty years ago, and I stand by it, Sebastian. She's not a Vettel".

"But-". Eleanor got up and pulled her daughter with her.

"I said no. She's been more than fine without her father's influence. She won't start with this now". With that, she started to walk away, ready to wait outside for the final papers.

"I am not my father". Sebastian's angry tone made the two women turn around to look at him. He was still sitting, his body resting on the back of the chair, his gaze on the ground, until he looked up at them, tears threatening to spill out. "I was lied to, for twenty years. You knew we existed, I didn't. I was robbed of the chance of meeting her sooner, of watching her grow. I was robbed of the chance of being a brother, of forming a bond. So excuse me for trying to start now! Excuse me for wanting to get to know my sister!". Eleanor exchanged a look with Y/N, then, the girl walked up to Sebastian. The staring contest went on for a few seconds, then, she sat back down and wrote her phone number on a paper that she found on the desk. 

He was shocked when Y/N showed up at his door the next month without Eleanor, her mother still choosing to stay in a hotel instead of Sebastian's house. Even though it was unrealistic, when he let her into his home, he kind of expected them to click instantly, but his bubble quickly popped. The following two weeks were a disaster, Sebastian learned that they not only had nothing in common, she actually seemed to dislike him. If he said white, she said black, if he said sweet, she said sour. Sometimes he wondered if she was doing it on purpose, just to start a fight. He had never met anyone so different to him and they argued for almost every little thing on a daily basis. He complained to Hanna every night, he didn't know what to do, he wanted his sister to like him, he wanted to build something great with her, but she only pushed him away. But Hanna told him something that made him keep fighting: "She could go back home whenever she wanted, she could even go to her mother, staying just fifteen minutes away from us, still, every night, she chooses to stay here. She may be having a hard time letting you in, but she's not backing down and neither should you".

There was one thing that he noticed she couldn't hate about his life, and that was racing. Every day she walked down the stairs, he could hear her stop for a few minutes to stare at his pictures on the walls, most of them from his Red Bull days, but some from his now Ferrari era. He could tell that she liked Formula 1, even if she tried to hide it, he could see the spark in her eyes whenever she lingered a little too long on a trophy in the living room, or when he and Hanna went over the last details of the new season starting next month. She always seemed to listen to those conversations without making any mean remarks. That shared interest gave Sebastian an idea, he could take her with him to the races, maybe she would like him a little better if she could see him in his element, doing what he loved and maybe showing off a little. It was also a chance to spend more time with her, just the two of them, getting to know each other better. It could be his chance to be an older brother. She accepted the offer, not before making a whole scene of her showing almost zero interest and telling him that she was doing it more for the chance of meeting cute drivers than to spend time with him. He pretended to believe her, whatever means necessary if it meant her spending time with him.

"Y/N, are you ready?". He yelled from the bottom of the stairs, his German punctuality stressing over the fact that she was taking her sweet time, guaranteeing them to be 10 minutes late for the time he had to be at the airport. 

"Stop yelling! Jesus, you're insufferable". She complained as she walked down the stairs, her luggage heavy and hitting the edge of every step. He almost puked when she stood in front of him and saw what she was wearing. She had a white shirt with a Mercedes logo and number 44, Lewis Hamilton's name written on the back. She smirked at him and he looked back at her seriously, not finding anything funny in her little act. 

"You know my number is 5, and I drive for Ferrari, right?". He loved Lewis, he was one of his closest friends, but there was no way in hell his sister was wearing that to the paddock.

"I know". She simply stated and walked past him, saying goodbye to Hanna and going to the car. He spent the whole ride to the airport thinking of a good excuse to give to his Team Principal about why she was wearing that, but there was nothing that he could come up with.

"Well... That's... something". Maurizio, his team principal said as Y/N sat on the jet and put on her earphones, ignoring everyone.

"She's not my biggest fan". Sebastian admitted, sighing as he looked at his sister buckling up.

"I can see that". Maurizio laughed a bit, finding the situation a lot funnier than Sebastian.

"I already like her". He heard Kimi, his teammate, add without looking up from his phone, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. It was going to be a long season.

To say that a white Mercedes shirt stood out in the sea of red would be an understatement. She was like a LED sign saying "I hate Sebastian Vettel'' and her little number caught the paddock's attention instantly. Walking into the paddock, she quickly ran away from him, going who knows where while he did everything that was required before the first practice. He spent all Friday without seeing her, until it was time to go back to the hotel and on Saturday, she was already making friends around and ignoring him. Her insistent effort to pretend like he didn't exist only fueled him to win, still, Lewis got pole and Kimi followed the Brit on the starting grid. Sebastian was fuming when he saw Y/N grin as she looked at him, satisfied with his anger. She was a menace, like a Vettel, but he could be even pettier, that's why, on Sunday, he ended up winning the race and enjoying the little tantrum she did before going back to the car locking herself in until he was ready to take her back to the hotel.

The next race, Sebastian got pole and won the race, enjoying more the fuming expression of his little sister than the win itself. But then came China and he ended up 8th even though he got pole position and it was her time to laugh. After almost a month hanging around the paddock, Y/N had made a lot of friends, especially with the drivers that were close to her age. She quickly befriended Max Verstappen and Pierre Gasly, who introduced her to the Alfa Romeo rookie, Charles Leclerc. Sebastian liked Charles, he was a talented kid and there was this rumor, almost confirmed, that he was the one that would take Kimi's seat the following season and become Sebastian's teammate. But Charles was a boy, and the German soon discovered he didn't like her sister hanging out with boys. The next two races ended up with Lewis taking the P1 spot and Sebastian wasn't sure what he hated more, losing or his sister being so incredibly happy with Lewis' wins. Maybe what he hated more was Y/N going out every weekend, clubbing with her new favorite drivers while he waited awake and stressed out for her to go back. She was twenty, it wasn't like he could ground her, but she was still a kid in his eyes and the idea of her drinking with those three boys wasn't his happiest thought. 

"I'm going out". She informed him casually, then, he walked out of the bathroom and grabbed his jacket. She looked at him, frowning.

"Let's go". He said as he walked to the door.

"What are you doing?".

"It's obvious, innit?". Replied, smirking and making fun of her accent.

"There's no way you're coming with us". She crossed her arms and they heard her phone ring with a message notification, probably one of the boys telling her that they were outside to pick her up. 

"I'm not asking you. Answer the text, tell your friends that I'm taking us to the club". She opened her mouth to complain, but he saw her face morph into a big grin.

"Sure, Seb". She took her phone out of her purse and quickly replied, with a suspicious look, she watched her walk out of the room and he followed her. 

He learned that night that, if he pushed her buttons, he'd probably end up paying a high price. She drank her weight in alcohol and made out with half the club, she even got into a fight with a guy way bigger than her, and he was the one that ended up with a sore cheek. He had to literally tear her away from Max Verstappen, and then from Charles Leclerc, and somehow, from three other guys. She did everything she knew would make him mad and the next morning, she ignored his 20 minutes long sermon about her actions. But, she didn't win. He kept joining her on her clubbing and made it his mission to keep her away from trouble - and Charles' disrespectful hands, well she wasn't exactly complaining, but Sebastian still didn't like it-. 

It was around their birthdays when they discovered that they were actually having fun together and, before they could notice, they ended up walking out of clubs laughing their asses off. The press had a field day with them, but Ferrari didn't seem to care, and it wasn't like he was getting in any trouble with Hanna for his nights out. Austria was the race before their birthdays and Max won, Sebastian coming in third. The Dutch celebrated shoving his tongue down Y/N's throat and Sebastian decided that he had enough, he could deal with the fights and the drunken mischief, but she was definitely not dating a driver. They spent their birthdays together in England, the first time they had a good time together without alcohol doing its magic. Charles Leclerc sent a gift and it had Sebastian rolling his eyes in annoyance, but it still was a sweet gesture, one he noticed his sister liked a lot. Eleanor was in a better mood, and Sebastian could appreciate a sweeter side of her. It was his best birthday so far. Thirty-one felt great and being an older brother felt even better, even if they still were having some issues. 

The next weekend was Silverstone, and the Vettel siblings fell into their previous dynamic. It was Y/N home race and Sebastian wanted to win it more than anything, but she still wore Lewis' shirt. The Brit got pole position, but Sebastian won the race and, for the first time, his sister congratulated him for his win. They hugged tightly, he even let some tears roll down his face, it was their first time ever hugging. They didn't go out that weekend, instead, the party kids decided to join the Vettels for a nice and tranquil dinner. Sebastian got to appreciate better the developing relationship between his sister and Charles, how the young driver was slowly but surely winning her over, and he didn't like it, Sebastian didn't like it one bit. He thought he disliked Max, but he discovered that he could dislike Charles even more. Hanna noticed, because if there was someone on Earth that knew Sebastian like the back of their hand, that was Hanna. She could see the possessive spark in his eyes, the way he tensed as he watched Charles whisper something in Y/N's ear while she giggled. She knew that he was close to exploding, but to her surprise, Sebastian didn't do anything.

The following six wins from Lewis were interrupted by Sebastian's win in Spa, and again, even if she was still wearing white, his sister was there to congratulate him. He could feel that they were getting closer, but as their relationship got stronger, so did hers with Charles. By the end of the 2018 season, Sebastian finished second in the championship and his sister had officially started dating Charles, who was confirmed to become his teammate for the 2019 season. It was going to be uncomfortable, especially since Sebastian had made clear that he didn't like the relationship. He was convinced that Charles would cheat on her, because there were very few drivers that could be trusted and, from Sebastian's perspective, Charles wasn't in that selective group. She spent Christmas with the Vettels and her mother and New Year in Monaco, with the Leclercs. Sebastian was fuming, but he did what he could to keep himself in check. His relationship with Y/N was better, but she still kept him at arms distance, she still didn't trust him fully. 

There were no words to express just how happy Sebastian was when he saw her dressed in Ferrari red, but the number 16 was definitely bugging him. Him and Charles got asked a lot about the tension of being teammates and in-laws in press conferences, and the German did what he could to play it cool, even if he was constantly day-dreaming about cutting Charles' hands off. Charles was nice and seemed to admire Sebastian a lot, he was a four times world champion after all, but the older driver just couldn't stand the Monegasque. It was a shame, because if it wasn't for Charles' relationship with Y/N, Sebastian was sure that he would like Charles. The thing is, he was jealous, he hated the fact that she trusted Charles more than him, even if she had known him for less time. The couple shared so much, and Sebastian just wanted his sister to share just one little thing with him, but they were in this weird position where she accepted him as her brother, but they weren't close. Charles had gone to her house, been in her room, knew what she liked, knew childhood stories and shared some inside jokes with her. Sebastian didn't know anything more than what he could guess from the time they had known each other, but she refused to share information with him. They were amicable, but they didn't have a bond and Sebastian hated that she did form one with Charles.

Mercedes dominated and won the first eight races, Max won Austria again and then, after a very tense first half of the year, it was Sebastian and Y/N's birthdays again. After that, came Silverstone, and the tension that had been building up for so long was finally ready to explode. The race was the last drop, the glass was full and Sebastian was ready to set the world on fire. Charles finished on the podium and Sebastian 16th, after being given a ten-seconds penalty for nosing Max's car with his Ferrari. He did the best he could to smile for the cameras but he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and take the longest shower of his life. He watched Y/N kiss and hug Charles before he went to the podium and something inside him just snapped. He grabbed his sister and pulled her to the Ferrari garage as quietly as possible. They started arguing, because they were amazing at getting each other angry, and what started as a petty but harmless sibling fight, ended up with Y/N crying her eyes out and storming out of his driver's room. He went back to the hotel and took his so wanted shower, but when he got out, he didn't feel any better. As the time passed, he felt worse, and when he got an angry message from Eleanor, he knew that he had to fix what he had broken. He knew that she wasn't exactly helping to make things easier, but he was the big brother and if he really wanted the role, then he had to step up.

The trip to Eleanor's house wasn't long, and he noticed that he spent more time standing outside the door than he spent driving there. It was the first time he went there, the previous year they celebrated their birthdays in a restaurant and Y/N had refused to invite him to their home. He walked up to the door and after three failed tries, he finally rang the bell. He waited, the anxiety eating him alive, his heart beating faster as he heard footsteps getting closer to the door, what he didn't expect was Charles to be on the other side of it. He frowned, while the younger driver looked back at him, unamused. Charles actually looked like he was judging him and that angered the german, still, he did his best to contain himself and remembered, he was there to apologize. 

"She's not here". Charles said and Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him, Charles rolling his eyes and then explaining. "She went to buy some ice-cream with her mom".

"Can I come in and wait for them?". He saw Charles hesitate, but then move aside to let him in. They sat on the living room sofa, in complete silence. Sebastian took a moment to look around, a lot of pictures of his sister hanging on the walls. "Do they leave you alone here often?".

"Well, yeah". Sebastian was curious, how could Charles have all that privilege while he was constantly begging for his sister's attention.

"This is my first time here". He admitted, and Charles just nodded, shifting uncomfortably on his end of the couch.

"Uhm... I know". Sebastian just scoffed. 

"Of course you know. You know more about my sister and our relationship than me". Charles could hear the venom dripping from the words and tried to calm down.

"Don't say that. It's not like I know everything". The sour laugh Sebastian let out was pushing Charles closer to the edge.

"Well, you must be more than aware that she hates me". 

"She doesn't-". But the other cut him off.

"Don't lie to me, not about this". It was the hurt in Sebastian's voice that gave Charles the last push.

"Come with me". Charles got up and he followed, both of them walking up the stairs and stopping in front of a white door, Y/N name painted on it. "I promised her I wouldn't tell you, but I can't stand this anymore". The Monegasque opened the door and walked in, Sebastian right behind him. The sight inside left him speechless: His face was everywhere. There were posters, Red Bull merchandising, Ferrari flags, everything with the number 5, everything with his name. The posters were notoriously old, some were even roughed up by the years. "I know that you think she knew about you her whole life, but she didn't. She got a letter, for her twentieth birthday, from your father. Her mother had to tell her then, the truth about who her father was. But the craziest thing is, she was your biggest fan, even when she didn't know you were related. She saw you win your first championship when she was thirteen and begged her mother to buy her everything she could find about you. You were her hero. She worshiped you, Seb".

"I signed this". He said, his fingers faintly gazing at a Red Bull cap that was hanging from the headboard of the bed.

"She went to Silverstone 2012, Webber won, you were third. She was outside the paddock when you walked up to them as you were going in. Signed her cap and told her to follow her dreams. It meant the world to her. She used to race in karting". He couldn't stop the tears even if he wanted to, full on crying as he sat on the bed and hugged the cap close to his chest.

"But then why does she hate me so much?". How could this happen? She felt it, she felt the bond. Even when they didn't know, she did, deep down, she did. 

"Your father went back to your family, left her mom alone, then her mother wanted him out completely when she had the baby. She just grew up hating the man that used her mom as a night-stand and then ran back to Germany. When she learned that the same man she hated her whole life was also your dad... it was just too much". Charles walked up to the bed and sat down next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She loves you, Seb. She loves you so much".

"What the fuck, Charles?!". They both looked up and found Y/N and Eleanor standing at the door, Y/N furious as she gripped a bowl of ice-cream. The Monegasque opened his mouth to explain, but she was quicker. "How could you do this to me?".

"Mon amour, I'm so-".

"Bullshit! You're not sorry, you're a fucking traitor". Her accent got a lot thicker the angrier she got. Sebastian, still crying, got up and stood in front of her.

"Don't, please, don't get mad at him". Sebastian begged. "I needed to know this, I needed to know that you actually like me. Y/N, please, I love you so much. I dreamed and begged for you my whole life, you have no idea how much happier I am knowing that you exist. I know that my father was a piece of shit to you both, I know that I can't fix that, but please, I'm begging you, give me a chance". He saw her doubt, he saw her hurt, but the moment she jumped on him and gripped him tightly he knew they were never letting go. "Thank you". He whispered on her hair and she just squeezed him on a deadly grip. They pulled apart and she looked at Charles, who was patiently waiting for her to forgive him, or kick him out. "You know, Charles is alright. I mean, 16 is not that bad of a number".

"I'd rather wear number 5, though". She said and Charles looked down. "But I don't want to be a shitty girlfriend, so I guess I can wear a cap with the number 16 along with my Vettel shirt". Charles looked up again and smiled wide at her. "Okay, listen, I swear to God, if you spill my secrets again, I'm dumping your ass".

"Won't happen again, Amour, I promise". He then looked at Sebastian. "So... I'm alright?".

"Don't push it, Leclerc". 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This story was based on a real case of two brothers separated when they were little, and the younger became a fan of his older brother's band without knowing they were related. It was really bittersweet when they discovered that they were brothers. I hope you liked this.

[thetriplets3]

Hi I have a request! In Taylor's new song there's lyrics "in the world of boys, he's a gentleman" could you do something about matt or chris with it??

❝𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧❞

matt was the first person to show me what love looked like. i had only been in one relationship that lasted 5 months then he “got bored” and started seeing someone before he even broke up with me.

i had my fair share of blind dates my friends insisted on setting me up with but none of them left me feeling loved. i always felt like an afterthought on these dates. they walk in the restaurant and head to a table leaving me trailing behind like a lost puppy. they’d spend the whole night talking themselves and finding a way to make it about them barely letting me get a word in, and they’d always ask for separate bills. those were the better of the dates. some of them would text me all day telling me how excited they were to see me and as soon as it came time for our date i was met with radio silence. i sat at countless tables repeatedly telling the server “he should be here soon”. i was embarrassed to be in this situation, especially since it isn’t the first time it’s happened.

there were plenty of times guys showed they were really just boys.

the last date i was on the guy wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant, saying i deserved to be given the best treatment. that was a lie. i’d been waiting in this high end restaurant alone for nearly an hour waiting. all my texts to him asking where he was got left on read. i was feeling self conscious, suddenly aware of everyone giving me pitiful looks, i don’t belong here i stand out like a sore thumb and it’s very obvious i’ve been stood up. my phone buzzed, causing me to immediately pick up my phone hoping he’d finally texted me back. a sigh escapes my lips when i see it’s a text from nick checking in on me.

nick

sooo how’s mr fancy treating you??

me

he ain’t shit. i’ve been waiting for him for almost an hour i feel like an animal at the zoo being stared at this is fucking embarrassing

nick

wtfff that’s horrible i’m so sorry. men suck

me

correction boys suck

nick

i say give him 20 minutes, if he doesn’t show up by then, leave

✿

~third person pov~

what she didn’t know is that nick had mentioned her situation to his brothers and without hesitation, matt headed to his room and changed into nicer clothes. nick and chris weren’t shocked when they saw matt all dressed up and heading out the door without a word. they know their brother would do anything for that girl, which is why he told her to wait, knowing matt would be there in minutes.

she has been by their side since grade 4. her and matt have always been closer than she was with the other boys. they were the perfect pair, they were meant for each other, just too shy to say anything. they didn’t need to admit anything though, their feelings showed through their actions.

matt pulled up to the restaurant and quickly made his way in scanning the dimly lit room for her beautiful face. within seconds his eyes meet her heartbroken face. he practically sprinted towards her, out of breath and ready with a fake excuse as to why he’s late.

hearing heavy quick steps in her direction, the girl whips head up only to be met with the person she really wanted to show up. a smile replaces her frown as she gets up, shimmying the hem off her dress down, and meets matt’s open arms.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, chris hurt himself so i had to bring him to the hospital. i would have texted you but my phone died and i was too panicked to try and call you” he says loud enough for people around to hear, before pulling her chair back to let her sit and tucking it in before seating himself. “once they saw chris i left and came straight here. i really didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. i’m sorry love” he says, eyes boring into hers with sincerity.

“that’s okay you’re here now. i’m glad you were there to help him” the girl said, playing along with his story.

after finally eating, he paid for their meals and led her to the exit of the building with a gentle hand on her lower back. before heading outside he took off his jacket and put it on the girl.

“it’s cold out” he softly started, before holding the door open for her as she walks out the door with a true smile and a growing blush on her cheeks.

“thank you matt you didn’t have to do that. i was perfectly okay with leaving and getting an uber” she said as she gave him a hug and placed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“you might have been okay with doing that but i’m not. you don’t deserve to get stood up and you got all dolled up i’d be mad at myself if i didn’t come here and just let you sit there even longer looking all pretty with no one there to appreciate you. i’d do anything for you in a heart beat, you know that” he said before holding her warm face in his hands, his eyes searching hers for approval. with a subtle nod and a glimmer in her eyes he wastes no time placing a sweet and loving kiss to her lips.

✿

~reader’s pov~

it wasn’t long after that night when matt asked me to be his girlfriend. he makes sure to show me everyday what it’s like to truly be loved. it’s the little things; subtly switching sides with me if we’re about to pass a group of creepy men or drunk boys; he’ll reach his hand behind him if he’s in the middle of a conversation or busy with something to hold my hand, letting me know he hasn’t forgotten about me; he always has extras of things i use often with him either in his car, his room or his backpack he’s got it. if my hairs bothering me and i forgot a hair clip or hair tie, he’s got one clipped to his bag and a hair tie around his wrist. if i need lip balm he’s got about 3 with him at any point, and he gets a taste of the strawberry lip balm each kiss, he can’t complain; knowing how clumsy and spatially unaware i am, any time i bend down to get something his hand is right there to stop me from bumping my head on it. he’ll brush my hair and attempt to braid it which usually ends up with him just playing with my hair, knowing how relaxing i find it. he can read me like a book he knows me better than anyone else and he’s always one step ahead of me, going that extra mile.

he makes me feel seen like no one has done before. i am his never ending thought, never an afterthought, like every boy made me feel like i was. matt has shown me what it’s like to be loved, i don’t know why i put up with being treated poorly for so long.

he’s a gentleman in a world full of boys

(not the lyrics but close enough)

taglist:

@antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld @strniolo @luvsturniolo