#oh lord here we go i’m angsting again

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you.

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- or in which you're in love with your best friend, but he's not exactly in love with you back... angst

word count ༄ 3.2k

nora’s notes ༄ eeek my first writing post!! i'm so excited. this is kind of bad but IDC part two will be coming and i swear will be better written okay enjoy!! mwah ���

“moony!” you sing-song as you twirl into his dorm, lips spread into a wide grin. “we’re leaving for hogsmeade, hurry up.” 

he’s on his bed, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he glances up from his book, suppressing a smile when he sees you. “hi, y/n.” 

he embodies the word comfort, you think. he’s wearing one of his trademark warm wool sweaters, an empty mug of tea by his knee, gray blanket draped across his lap, and that smile. it would be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“hi,” you respond, clasping his book and setting it onto his bedside table. “c’mon, everyone’s waiting for us downstairs.” 

he sighs so deeply you think he might crack a lung, and loops his pointer finger through one of the belt loops of your jeans to pull you onto his bed. “do we have to?” 

as much as you’d like to stay here with him, you also want to buy more chocolate frogs, so you spring back up, tugging at his hand. “yes, please. i’m low on my candy stock.” 

he groans, letting you pull him off of his bed and out of the dorm. “your sweet tooth is killing me.” 

you shrug. “that’s what you signed up for when you said yes to being friends in first year. now you’re just living with it.” 

he just hums in agreement, letting you wrap your arm around his. remus lupin, your best friend. he’s the kindest man you’ve ever met, let alone known. it would be a lie to say you weren’t completely and utterly in love with him, and even more of a lie to say you hadn’t been since before you were a teenager, even if you didn’t understand it then. but, alas, as soon as you’d admitted it to yourself, you also resolved to never, ever tell him. you were sure he didn’t feel the same about you, and why would you carelessly toss away the best friendship and most understanding person ever just for some feelings? 

and so, you waited and hoped, prayed that it would go away. you would move on and keep your friendship. 

and, of course, you didn’t. 

“y/n!” james calls once he sees the two of you walking down the stairs to where the rest of the marauders are waiting. “finally.” 

“we sent you up like ten minutes ago,” peter complains, frowning. 

you shrug. “oops.” 

remus shifts his arm to settle around your waist, nudging you in front of him. “well, we’re here now, so get a move on.” 

you thread the hand he placed on your stomach with your own, thumb rubbing circles onto his. he smiles down on you, and that smile, oh, lord. you could see it a million times and never have enough. you’d jump over bridges to have him watch you like that all the time. you’d sell your soul to be his, really and truly. and the worst part is, you have no shame about it. merlin, you’re in love. 

—

jelly beans or chocolate frogs, that is the question. you glance at one, then the other, then the other again. your shoulders slump. it’s too hard of a decision. you’re about to cave and get both when you feel warm arms wrap around your waist, a chin settling onto your shoulder. without looking, you press a kiss to remus’ cheek. “hi.” 

“hi,” he replies, inhaling your scent, nose tucked between your ear and your hair. 

“chocolate frogs or jelly beans?” you ask anxiously, holding up the two in front of you. “or both?” 

“both,” he agrees with you, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving him as he stands behind you, entwined with you. 

you nod, happy with his judgment, about to speak when someone beats you to it. 

��remus?” a voice yells from behind, excitement coloring her tone. 

you know who this is without looking too, but you wish you didn’t. remus slowly stands back to his whole height, and the sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver. you turn just as he does, even if you don’t want to see the girl beaming at him. 

you know her, of course you do. doesn’t everyone know celeste huxley, the most beautiful hufflepuff to grace hogwarts’ campus? angels sing when she walks past, men and women fall to her feet in her wake. she’s worshiped, adored. okay, you’re being dramatic, but still. 

you hate her. 

you hate her silky hair, her evergreen smile, her cesspool of kindness. 

and you hate yourself more for hating her. she’s never been mean to you a day in her life, she couldn’t be mean to anyone even if she tried. but still. she’s who you’ve tried to be your whole life. she is the blueprint, the model with cherry-red high heels you wobble and blister your feet in. she has all Os on her OWLs, victoria’s secret hair, people who love on her like a celebrity. and she’s fucking obsessed with your best friend, of course. she could have anyone in the world, and she picked him. why couldn’t she love sirius or james, like half the girls at the school? why did she have to want remus? 

and the worst part is, she deserves him. he deserves someone as perfect as he is, even if that’s celeste. 

as you swallow down your hatred, you realize she’s started to pull remus away from you, pulling on his sleeve towards the jelly slugs, and you almost lob your stupid chocolate frog at her head. tears sting your eyes and you try your best to blink them back as you watch remus watch you, only half-listening to her blabber. he knows you hate her, and the most sheepish, guilty look comes over his face. you ignore him, putting your candy back, too upset to think about eating it. luckily, you spot sirius in the corner and quickly try to make your way over him when you’re pulled back. 

remus has got ahold of your belt loops again, and you watch him whisper something to celeste before gently removing her hand from his sweater and pulling away. he chose you now, but for how long? the thought chills you, goosebumps prickling your skin, your heart. 

“dove,” he says quietly by your ear. “what happened to your candy?” 

“didn’t want it,” you mumble, walking towards sirius. 

“why not?” he’s dancing around the topic, and both of you know it. 

“not hungry.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“s’not your fault,” you say. you’re not mad at him, you could never really be mad at him, but you’re upset nonetheless. you push away towards the black-haired boy perusing the shelves. “siri, you done?” 

you link arms with your other friend, leading him out of honeyduke’s, leaving remus trailing behind. 

—

“hi dove.” a voice, and its accompanying owner, peeks out from the doorway into your dorm. “may i come in?” 

“hi rem,” you say in response, beckoning him in, putting your book to the side to let him crawl onto you. “can’t you always?” 

his shoulders sag slightly, slumping into your bed as soon as he reaches it. his head is in your lap, and he closes his eyes once you begin to massage his scalp with your fingers, pressing a kiss to your exposed hipbone next to him. 

you don’t say anything, you just let the silence dance between the two of you. 

he’s so pretty. you brush some of his sandy strands out of his face to let yourself just admire him. the towering giant and all his gentleness. your fingers trace the outlines of his face, the scars that decorate it, all the way down to his right pinky, where he has the cutest tattoo. 

i love you is all you want to say. the words pulse at your throat, begging you to let them free. but you can’t. you can’t lose him. anyone else, sure, you would do it. but not him. not remus, your remus. 

when he wakes, groggy but grounded, you have a hot cup of tea ready by your bed, ready for his consumption. you hand it to him as soon as he’s fully awake, pulling himself off of you to accept the mug. “i don’t deserve you, dovie.” 

“don’t say stuff like that, rem. if anything, you deserve better.” you press a kiss to his cheek, smiling. 

“there’s nobody and nothing better than you,” he promises, hand landing on your lower thigh to massage it gently. you smile, letting the quiet linger between the two of you a little longer before speaking up. 

“you wanna talk about it?” you ask, watching him sip his tea. 

he gives you the most adoring smile, and you want to put it in a box and lock it up and keep it forever. “just tired.” 

“okay,” you say, searching his face to verify what he’s saying. “you can always talk to me, you know.” 

“thank you.” remus is always sincere, it’s one of the things you love about him, but he seems especially sincere now. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y/n.” 

“and you are to me,” you whisper, eyes dipping to his plush pink lips. you want to kiss him so badly right now, but you know he just means it like a friend, as much as you wish it wouldn’t. 

swallowing, you wipe those ideas away, choosing to rest your head against his fleece sweater-covered shoulder. he drops a kiss onto the top of your head, and you sigh in contentment. this is why you refuse to tell him you love him. you couldn’t live without these moments. 

“there’s a party tonight at nine-ish,” he says softly. his thumb is rubbing circles on your knee. “sirius is dragging me along. will you come?” 

you contemplate it only briefly. “i’m tired, rem. you should go, though.” 

“i’ll stay back with you,” he decides with resolution. your heart melts, it’s sweet of him to want to stay with you, but you want him to have fun. plus, you can feel in how his body coiled with excitement when he talked about it–he wants to go. 

“no, go.” you glare playfully at him. “i won’t forgive you if you don’t.” 

“i’ll stay with you,” he repeats, staring right back at you. “it’s just a party. i’d stay with you forever, you know? you’re my favorite person.” 

“i’ll be mad at you if you don’t go, i swear to merlin,” you egg him on, heart melting. 

“no.” he’s too stubborn for his good. 

“i want to be alone,” you lie. you know he wants to go and you refuse to hold him back. “i might come later on, just not at nine. i’ll be there at ten, maybe.” 

“and i’ll wait for you,” he promises. 

“please, remus.” you put on your saddest tone, gaze up at him pleadingly. “i just need some alone time.” 

“you want to be alone?” he asks cautiously, searching for any hint you may be lying. 

“yes.” you cross your toes, tucked under your quads. 

he’s hesitating, and as if in perfect timing, a knock sounds at your door before a familiar head of black hair peeks through. 

“moony, let’s go. leave poor y/n alone.” sirius clicks his tongue. 

you push remus’ shoulder lightly, gesturing for him to go. he casts one long look at your face, as if memorizing every ridge. 

“she’s not going to change while we’re gone, get a move on,” sirius groans from the door. you nod at the statement, and remus concedes. 

“i’ll be here the whole time,” you promise. 

“call me if you get lonely.” he makes you swear before reluctantly getting up. you kiss his hand to send him off. 

you were lying when you said you would join him at nine. five minutes after he’s out the door, you’re fast asleep under the covers, the ghost of his touch comforting you. 

—

as soon as your eyes open, you let out a sound of disappointment. you can tell you haven’t slept through the night, as none of your roommates are in their beds, and they always sleep in. the clock reads that it’s only a bit before eight forty five, and you roll over in your bed. you know you won’t be able to fall back asleep, but you try anyway, until the door slams and your eyes fly open. 

it’s lily, face flushed with the cold and excitement. the second she sees you kissed by sleep, she covers her mouth. “sorry, y/n! were you sleeping?” 

you wave her off. “no, i was already awake. what’s up?” 

“james is going to be at the party tonight. will you come? please, please, please? i don’t want to go alone with him,” she begs. “please.” 

you weigh your options: if you stay here, you’ll just lay in bed, not sleeping. you might as well go with her, you’ll see remus there too. 

“okay,” you agree, and she practically drags you out of bed, she’s so happy. 

—

even though lily’s the one who dragged you here to keep her away from james, she’s off with him in a corner within ten minutes of you getting there, leaving you in a sea of other people, alone. of course, you know most of your housemates that are stuffed into this crowded common room, but you don’t know any particular one of them enough to properly go up to and chat. you sit awkwardly on a couch for a few minutes, next to couples making out, before finally just giving up and getting ready to leave. 

you saw sirius going into a bedroom with someone, so he’s out of the picture, peter’s smoking in the corner with some ravenclaws you have no interest in speaking with, james is alone with lily, and he’d kill you if you interrupted them, and you have absolutely no clue where remus is. 

whatever. you walk towards the door to the girls’ dormitories, stumbling over students on the way, when you just barely catch a glimpse of sandy hair outside on a balcony. you’d know it anywhere–that’s remus. you scramble towards him, eager to see a friendly face, hand cracking the door open, when just as quickly as it came, the excitement dies in your throat. 

because just behind remus is a girl you hate to see. celeste, hair floating behind her. if you blink hard enough, you see a breeze wafting through her hair as her fingers knot around remus’–your remus–neck. his hands are on the small curve of her waist, and he’s pushing her against the railing and, oh god–they’re kissing. 

you let out a thick gasp and your hand slaps over your mouth. you turn and flee. they probably heard you, but they can’t maneuver through the crowd like you can. within seconds, you’re sure you’ve lost any trace of them, darting through people as you sprint outside to the outside of the castle. sure it’s past curfew, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

no one will see you now. 

he’s supposed to be yours. he was yours, he was yours in more than just a best friend. those nights when he fell asleep in your bed, having you wrap your arms around him for warmth, he was yours. when you always visited him post-full moon in the apothecary, and as much as he wishes to push you away, you never let him, he was yours then. when he lets you in, truly and fully, and lets himself cry against you, letting you take care of him for once. you’re the only person he’s ever let himself cry in front of.

and even though you’d deny it a million times, and you did, to sirius, to james, you’ve always hoped that he liked you back. deep down, in the parts of your soul you only ever showed to him. he didn’t have to love you, even. just like, that would be enough. anything would. 

but that was too much for him, clearly. 

you’re crying. tears, fat and hot, soaking the skin on your cheeks. head in your hands, letting your open palms pool the salty water. you feel nothing but yourself and the wind against the cold of the stone steps, whipping your hair around. 

“dove.” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’re hallucinating, praying the voice you just heard wasn’t real. you couldn’t see him right now. that would be humiliating. 

“y/n?” 

you crack your eye open when you hear the same voice, trying to swallow your sobs back and failing as they manifest into ugly hiccups. you’re not hallucinating. merlin damn it. 

in front of you, peering up at your blotchy face, is remus lupin, your best friend. the man who’s not yours. 

he’s on the step below you,  but one hand snakes its way onto your knee, soothing your skin with his slender thumb, the other finding your hand to intertwine your fingers. fuck, his touch both makes you lean into him and want to throw up at the same time. his eyes are chock-full of compassion, and god, you hate it. “what’s wrong?” 

his words send you blubbering into tears again, rubbing at your eyes as something splits open in your chest. “n-nothing.” 

“something’s wrong, love. let me help you. let me in,” he pleads in the softest tone, and you have to fight to not give in, to wrap your arms around him and never let go. remember celeste, remember that terrible sight of his lips on hers. 

“remus, leave me alone.” you’re shaking, but somewhere inside you, you find your resolve. you stand, pulling away from him, and make to run back inside the castle, but his long legs catch up to you easily, arm shooting around your waist when your knees buckle and you collapse onto the floor in sobs. 

“y/n, you’re scaring me,” he says, panic accumulating in his voice. “please tell me what’s wrong and i’ll fix it, i promise. please, baby. it’s killing me hear you cry.” 

you’re so close to the doors, you can see them. you stand again. “you don’t get to say that.” 

“what?” his arm’s still around your shoulder and you shove it off. 

“stop it! you’re so mean, remus. you don’t get to call me dove and call me baby and say stupid things like how there’s nobody better than me and i’m your favorite person and then go off and kiss other girls,” you spit out on the verge of hyperventilating. you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. it’s just coming out, spewing out of your mouth like the vomit that’s sure to follow. but even as each word shocks you, you know they ring true. “i hate you for it. i hate you for leading me on for years when i’ve loved you since we were kids! you’re terrible, remus. i hate you.” 

he’s absolutely stunned trying to process your words, and you use the momentary distraction to race back into the school, gunning for your dorm and locking it once you’re inside. the image of celeste and remus plays through your mind all night, so much that you can barely even think about how you confessed your love to him.

masterlist | next part

tags @lydiasfalling @dancingwithourhandsuntied

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of pain

a/n: Thank you again for reading this series, I really love writing it :) More to come! I really really appreciate feedback, as always ♡

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 5 ☁

Series Masterlist

~~

“It’s going to feel like a push,” Rhys explained, his fingers intertwined between his knees. “And then you’ll know I’m in your mind. It shouldn’t hurt—maybe just a pinch and then a pressure.” 

You nodded, clutching the arms of your chair with white-knuckled fingers. 

“He’s in my mind all the time. Uninvited, might I add. Doesn’t hurt, it’s just annoying,” Mor added. 

Turning your head in her direction, eyes downcast toward the floor, you nodded to her, too. 

The faelights gave the room a warm amber hue. It was the day after you met Rhys—or rather, became reacquainted with him—and the day he was going to look for your memories. Mor sat beside you, the blue dress she wore shimmering beneath the glow of the room, and Azriel stood guard by the door. What he was guarding you from, you had no idea, but the act seemed to comfort him. 

“Was Cassian busy?” you asked, and then immediately regretted it. 

It wasn’t Cassian’s job to be here. He was a grown man with a position in this court. He was busy, obviously. You also barely knew him. 

What a stupid question.

Rhys breathed through a smile, anyway. “He’s up at the camps today. But I’ll let him know you asked for him. He’ll love that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” 

“He’ll love it. I was being genuine,” Rhys comforted, interrupting the anxiousness rising in your tone. “Should we get started?”

You took a deep breath meant to rid the feeling of nausea overtaking you. It didn’t work. 

“Yes,” you replied, easing your trembling fingers into your lap. “Yes, I’m ready.” 

Rhys kicked up from the table he was leaning against, spinning a chair around in front of you. He sat, and the instant his knees bent to make the descent, Azriel was out from his hiding place in the dark. He loomed over the High Lord, shadows agitated, wings tucked in tight. To his credit, Rhys only gave the new, menacing presence a quick glance. 

“Should I keep my eyes open? Or do we have to touch or—” 

“Just relax,” Rhys offered. “With everything going on, your mind should be wide open. This will be simple and fast. I promise.” 

A promise from a High Lord—from your family, you reminded yourself. This was going to be fine. You doubled up on tonics this morning, so the pain in your head was minimal and you were safe here.

This was going to be fine. 

You hadn't even noticed the rapid pace of your breath until Azriel’s shadows came to wind around your shoulders, the quick uptick of the darkness more telling than anything else. The small wisps traveled up and down with the rhythm of your breath until it began to even out, and then they curled around your cheeks as if to caress you. When they made the occasional pass by your ears, it felt as if you were being told secrets—as if you were important enough to know something no one else did. 

Yes, this was going to be fine. 

Rhys cleared his throat. 

The first step into your mind was jarring, the sensation making you physically jump. Rhys seemed to raise a hand up at the entry—to knock on something or open it up—but he passed through a permeable wall instead. He passed through with ease. 

The High Lord made a low, surprised sound that echoed in the room. 

“What?” Azriel gruffly asked. 

Rhys paused. “Well, nothing, I just—I just expected some of her magic to have remained where it was. For some of it to be protecting her mind.” 

“Magic?” you whispered. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to you as if on instinct—as if the sound of your voice was simply something he always followed—but his expression did not match the sentiment. He looked haunted, a shadow cast over the grim line of his mouth. 

“I have magic?” 

Your whisper was cut off by a sharp intake of air. Rhys had moved on from the outskirts of your mind, each step deeper a clicking echo in the stark chamber. He went in directions that felt practiced, like he’d been here before but everything had been rearranged, removed. 

You watched as the High Lord ran a rough hand over his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

Mor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

Azriel watched the man within your mind, a preternatural stillness stiffening his limbs.

“It’s like you’ve been wiped.” Rhys shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You still know language, you know how to—to be fae. But everything else is…” 

Within your mind, you felt a darkness roll from Rhys. He was sending something out, inspecting the area. The pain began then, but you weren’t going to tell them. You weren’t going to break and ruin something else. 

The darkness invaded small crevices in your mind, sleuthing and slinking in areas you hadn’t been aware of yourself. More pressure built up behind your skull. 

You could still manage it. 

The air was knocked from your lungs, but you could still manage it. 

“Rhysand,” Azriel warned. Blue began to overpower the orange glow of the room. 

“I think I’m almost somewhere,” the High Lord replied. 

“She’s—” 

“Keep going,” you gritted out. “It just feels odd,” you lied. “I’m okay, keep going.” 

Azriel shook his head, face twisting in an expression of grief that almost had you taking back your words. He abandoned his observation of Rhys and approached your chair, kneeling down next to you, the bone of his knee harshly pressing against the floor. 

He nodded, something resolute in his eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you want.” 

From beside you, you heard Mor’s pained sigh, felt her turn to look away.

You tore your eyes from the piousness before you, but Azriel did not budge. His elbow came to rest on the flat surface of his thigh, his fingers extending out to touch the wooden leg of your chair. 

“Please, keep going.” 

Rhys nodded. The darkness in your mind expanded. It flowed like a cloud rolling out before a storm, reaching every corner of unsearched territory. There was nothing it couldn’t reach, and good, let it fill you up. Let it consume your mind because it was no use to you in this state. Azriel was kneeling before you, desperate and scared, and you couldn’t understand why, so let the darkness become you. 

If it led to understanding, to your life, you would withstand this pain. 

The first scream that left you ripped through the air like a strike, unsettling any gentleness that had resided in the small office. Rhys had found something; his darkness had collided with a wall—the only wall, only structure, in your mind—and he had gone to investigate. With the simple press of his hand against the sturdy cobalt, a blinding pain found a home in your skull. 

Azriel jolted, the fingers that had gripped your chair flying to cover your knee. 

You screamed again. And again. 

“Stop! Enough, Rhysand. Get out of her head,” Azriel ordered, but he sounded as if he were underwater. He raised his voice above your screams but he sounded so far away. 

You collapsed forward, hands coming up to cradle your head. There was a touch at your back, maybe another along your hair—you couldn’t tell. The pain was too great. 

“There’s a wall. Something foreign. The energy isn’t hers,” Rhys called. He sounded distant as well. 

The world grew light. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel gritted out. “We can try again later. She’s going to pass out and last time—” 

“Keep… going,” you panted, fighting past the pain to insert yourself into the conversation.

This was your decision, your mind. Your life that was torn away. 

“Y/n, please. You don’t understand,” Azriel begged, shifting forward and gripping your wrists in his scarred hands. “This isn’t good for you. This isn’t—please.” 

Sweat beaded at your brow. Rhys’s presence hadn’t left your mind. “I have… to know. Have to try.” 

“Rhys, maybe we shouldn’t—” Mor began in a soft, hesitant voice. 

“Go.” With a simple word from you, Rhys bypassed all else. 

Pain exploded at the first talon scratching down the slope of the foreign wall. You surpassed screams, your voice breaking at the peak of the most violent one. At some point, the hands on your head were replaced by larger ones, and you found the texture of them to be a grounding point. Something about the feeling was familiar, like your skin was used to the patterns, the raised edges and the divots along fingers. They traced soothing shapes along your cheeks, dried tears you didn’t realize were cascading down your face. 

And then Rhys stood abruptly, his chair rocking back and forth with his departure. The pain dulled, leaving you with heavy breaths and a lingering ache you weren’t sure would ever go away. 

“You’re okay, angel. You’re okay.” 

Breathing in was difficult. The world felt off its axis. 

Pale-faced and blinking, Rhys breathed out, “We need to go to Helion.” 

You gathered the strength to look up further. 

Azriel’s expression crumbled, his beautiful face only inches from yours and filled with such dread that when you succumbed to the lightness creeping into your vision, you feared the descent. 

~~

Your loss of consciousness was brief, which was, apparently, very unexpected. 

Your once stiff chair was no longer beneath you, and where you expected to be folded up into an uncomfortable shape and cold, you were instead held against a warm, vibrating presence. 

No, not vibrating, that wasn’t right. Just speaking—you were being held by someone and they were speaking. 

“—back there. Rhys, it’s not a good idea. If you said it was the same energy from before, we can’t—I can’t—” 

“He is gone, Az. You know that. Bringing her there would only serve to help her. You know Helion would go to lengths…” 

Your comprehension faded in and out, matching the swells of pain in your head. You were reluctant to open your eyes and welcome the assault of light and sensation that would surely greet you when you did. 

There was a soft lull in the conversation, although you couldn’t decipher where it had left off. You felt a light pressure along your face and welcomed the relief and comfort that came with it. Some of the ache dissipated along the path of the touch. 

“Her screams,” you heard Azriel stress, and it felt as if his words were spoken against your skin. “They were so reminiscent of that night. All of this is.” 

“I know, brother,” Rhys replied. 

“I don’t know if I can do this. If I can survive this.”

A sniff. Something wet along your jaw. The chest you were pressed against seemed to tremble. 

“You have to. She’ll need you when she comes out on the other side of this.” 

“I know,” Azriel whispered, words weaker but somehow even closer. “I know.” 

Disregarding all of your senses that argued against it, you cracked your eyes open. The lights were still low, but even that fact didn’t stop the burning behind your eyes from amplifying. A repercussion from Rhysand’s investigation, surely. 

Whoever was left in the room gave you time to adjust, no one speaking or moving or expecting anything from you other than breath. You felt the hold on you loosen, but not withdraw. 

Part of you, a deep, intrinsic part, knew it was Azriel. His voice and his scent and the feel of his body seemed to be things you could recognize even when nothing else made sense. So, you knew it was him holding you from the moment your mind began to catch up with the environment. 

And still, seeing him so close, feeling him against you—it was a shock to your already overwhelmed system. 

You groaned, face scrunching as you tried to gather your bearings. Azriel’s legs shifted, and your body moved along with them. The motion served as a catalyst in your effort to sit up. 

“Hey, hold on,” Azriel cautioned. Hearing his voice so soft—so careful—had you blinking, trying to parse out what was real and what was still hazy.

“Did…did we figure out what was wrong?” you asked, groggy. “Did you find anything?” 

You turned your head with sharp momentum, regretting the act as soon as you did it. But you didn’t have time for pain—for fear. Rhys looked back at you with a sympathetic smile, both of you ignoring the sound of protest from Azriel at your movement. 

His hand moved to rest along the back of your neck as Rhys spoke, keeping your head in one place. Keeping it supported and still. 

You didn’t have the energy to shake it off. 

Did you want to? 

“I found something. Not as much as I’d have liked, but it’s something to go off of. We’ll… have to go to Day. There’s more information there. I’ve sent Mor to sort out the logistics.” 

A glance around the room confirmed that the blonde was no longer there. It must have been a quick decision to send her away. As quick as Azriel tugging you out of your chair and holding you on the floor. 

Rhys didn’t seem uncomfortable by the display, but of course he wouldn’t—not if his goal was to drive two enemies back into friendship. 

If you were ever even friends to begin with.

The trajectory of your thoughts made you grimace in Azriel’s arms, and even though your entire body protested it, you shifted away from him, hands coming down to the floor to support your weight. A soft grunt left you.

Why did a search through your mind leave you so weak? 

“My lo—y/n, stop,” Azriel fumbled over his words, reaching out for you. 

But with confusion and pain marring your state of mind—causing your usually perfectly practiced, patient replies to skew—you only struggled more and pushed farther away. There were too many unknowns, too many questions, too many feelings surrounding this man who looked at you as if you were never-ending but pushed you away as if you were finite. 

You couldn’t take it. 

And maybe this is how you—the real you, the one with her memories—would react, anyway. Everyone always seemed to expect a strong will and unyielding tenacity, their disappointment at your meekness glaringly obvious. 

Maybe you were supposed to fight against these secrets and this pain. 

“I’ve got it,” you grunted out, pushing closer to the desk, closer to the rift you didn’t understand between you and Azriel. 

You wanted Mor back. 

She made more sense. 

Looking up from your struggle, you caught Azriel and Rhysand in the midst of a staring match, their expressions firm and drawn. With what you now understood about Rhys and his powers, you were sure they were communicating somehow. 

When Rhys spoke next, your hypothesis was only confirmed. “Az is going to take you back to your room,” he said, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger. “He’s going to help you pack.” 

When the High Lord left, the door clicking shut with finality, tension blanketed the room. The worst part of it all was your lack of context. Something big was happening, something immeasurable, and you had no upper hand—not even a foot on the ground. 

You looked down at your palms and then back up at Azriel. He had yet to move from his position kneeling before you, hands still outstretched in some fruitless reach, elbows bent and tense against his sides.

You wanted Mor back. 

She seemed to love you—to want you here.

“I can get back to my room on my own,” you offered, and even though the words were barely a whisper, they were resounding in the silent room. 

Azriel licked his lips and looked down. When his hands fell to his sides, you took that as compliance, as acceptance. On shaking arms, you attempted to lift yourself up. 

“I haven’t been doing this right.” Your unsuccessful attempt abruptly ceased. Azriel continued. “I barely got it right the first time. This time… this time I—” 

“It’s okay, Azriel. I understand, I think.” 

Hazel eyes met yours, the collection of colors confused beneath furrowed brows. 

You so badly wanted to soothe away all of the unease within them, to brush your thumb along his brow even though you were sure he wouldn’t want to do the same—not without his family present to witness it. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

You wanted to sigh, but too much air might’ve made you pass out again. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, twisting your lips as you considered the best way to phrase the thoughts that had been plaguing you. 

“No one will tell me about you—about who we were to each other before I lost everything. I thought maybe it was because you were going to tell me, but then you wanted nothing to do with me and I understood a little better. I understood that maybe we weren’t friends before all of this. And that’s okay, I know that we lived lives that I can’t remember. 

“But then… sometimes you do things that don’t make sense to me. You say things that don’t add up with what I’ve come to terms with and I think… I think my mind and my body get confused. It’s strange,” you admitted, using what little strength you still coveted to push yourself back against Rhys’s desk. “But I think I understand now. And I’m sorry if I make it weird. I think that even if my mind understands who you are to me, there are other parts that don’t quite catch up.” 

“And who am I to you?” Azriel asked, voice raw. 

You looked up from your fingers to meet his gaze again, greedily relishing in the calm they provided you. It was always calm there. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t have the honor of meaning anything to you. Maybe we didn’t get along, or maybe we just never meshed. But I can tell you struggle with this new role—whatever it is the Inner Circle has asked you to do with me. I can tell this isn’t natural for you, spending time with me, trying to be my friend.” 

Azriel fell further back on his ankles, his wings unfurling from their tight coil to drape along the floor in a defeated posture. It looked wrong; you’d been around these men and their wings and they never dragged. 

Azriel’s mouth parted slightly, his jaw off-centered. His gaze left you in favor of staring at the floor, and you surmised that you caught him. You figured him out. This pawn he had become—you had freed him from the game. 

But then sighed and he said, “No,” and the word was whispered with so much sadness that none of this felt like a game anymore. Not that it was fun; this had never been fun.

“No,” he repeated. “Y/n, spending time with you—being around you—it’s as natural as breathing for me.” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Gods, I’ve done this so wrong.” 

“Azriel, it’s—” 

“Even just hearing you say my name. After so many days without it, I could sit and just listen to you talk and I would be content.” 

Your fingers felt numb. 

Azriel stopped staring at the ceiling. 

“We have always meshed,” he said. “I was being selfish—avoiding you when I shouldn’t have. The truth, y/n, is that we are close. Very close. Rhysand, Mor, Cassian—they don’t have to ask me to forge some… bond with you because that has already been 300 years in the making.” 

“But at lunch and every time I—” 

“It’s hard and I have been a coward,” Azirel interrupted, shifting forward until his knees brushed against yours on the ground. “This has been inexplicably harder for you and I have been a coward and there is no part of me that wants to be away from you.” 

It somehow felt as if your life was turning upside down again because you had made conclusions and assumptions and none of them were right. You had come to terms with the fact that you felt safest with a man who wanted nothing to do with you and had mourned the loss already. It had been strange to mourn something you had only just gained, but it had felt even stranger to lose Azriel. 

It hadn’t felt right.

“So we’re friends?” you tentatively asked, feeling the wooden corner of the desk dig into your spine. 

Azriel swallowed. “Yes.” 

“And you… like being my friend?” 

“Very much.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Azriel laughed, the sound so startlingly joyous you felt it swelling in your own chest. It filled you up, consumed you, and you wished for a long moment that you hadn’t been so willing to allow Rhys’s darkness into the crevices of your mind. This feeling belonged there. Only this. 

“I am positive,” he assured, a smile lingering on his face. “Being your friend has been my crowning achievement for the last three centuries.” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of an achievement,” you replied, the snark in your tone surprising you. 

It seemed to surprise Azriel as well, his brows shooting to his hairline. “Fortunately, you are not the authority on my achievements, especially since you don’t remember them and can’t recall how amazing it is to be your friend.” 

He kept tripping over that word—friend. 

You decided to ignore it, too pleased by the way you made Azriel laugh and smile and not look at you the way he had been for the past several days. 

And something was glowing in your chest, something that seemed to replace the near-constant ache you had grown so accustomed to. 

Later, you would ask more questions. Later, you would ask Azriel about Day Court and the reason why he silently panicked every time you ran your hand along your temple to ease the pressure there. 

But for now, you smiled at the shadowsinger, and he smiled back.

Part 5 ☁

[slowdrawl]

| Everybody Loves Contractors | AU NO OUTBREAK| JoelMiller X f!reader |

| 1/? | | The Walkthrough | 4k words | 18+ minors dni | masterlist |

She’s got a fixer-upper, trauma, and an attitude problem. Joel’s got calloused hands, a tool belt, and a soft spot for crazy. This is going to go great. "He hums, and he’s so close that you can practically feel the vibration on your ear. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the proximity between you. He’s practically got you caged between him and the wall; the realization makes you light-headed. A shiver rolls down your shoulders, landing low in your spine. You shrug it off and turn around." a/n Here's the start of a new series because of there's one thing I'm gonna write it's flirty!Joel with lots of banter cuz it's my AU and ur just livin' in it (if u want 2)

| Warnings | Explicit language, sexual tension, mutual pining, age gap, a little angst, mentions of DV (not described, not Joel), mentions of PTSD, mentions of death, Joel being Joel, etc. Please read responsibly.

.

The house smells like mildew and anger.

It’s written in the walls, literally. Holes punched through drywall, baseboard peeling at the edges. There are cat scratch marks on the inside of the laundry room door, it still smells like ammonia. The smallest bedroom has pencil marks in the doorframe, little ticks with dates scrawled next to them. Someone’s poor kid grew up here. You can’t help but wonder what kind of trauma they took with them in the moving van.

Five months ago, you changed the locks on your old rental and promised yourself never again.

Three months ago, you got the protection order.

Two months ago, they accepted the offer, and you quit your job in Seattle.

And now here you are, two thousand miles away from everything you’ve ever known. Standing in the middle of the living room of your new home, sweating, maybe regretting. Your whole life…or what’s left of it anyway, stacked in boxes along one wall.

You don't know what you expected. Some kind of relief. Maybe. A break in the clouds. One of those cinematic moments where a breeze rolls through the window and the sun hits just right. The kind of moment that makes life feel bearable again, that makes the future look bright and tangible.

Instead, the air is thick, dusty, humming with someone else's ghosts.

You wipe your forehead with the hem of your t-shirt and mutter, "The fuck did I get myself into," to the drywall, like it might actually answer you.

You jump when you hear a knock. Not on the door, but on the siding. 

Heavy, loud, maybe a little annoyed.

It makes the whole wall rattle, like it's got opinions or something. You’d almost forgotten that the contractor you hired was supposed to swing by today.

You peek through the window, squinting. He’s already walking backwards away from the door. Clipboard in hand, scanning the place, a frown set into his face like it’s been there since before you were born. He’s in a t-shirt, jeans, work boots. Built like a load-bearing wall, and if you had to guess, probably as friendly as one, too.

You open the door a few inches, and leave the storm door shut. "You the contractor?" you ask, for some stupid reason. Of course he is.

He responds, deadpan, rough Southern drawl, "No, I’m actually here to talk to you about our Lord and Savior." Half a smirk tugs at his mouth, but it settles quick.

"Funny." You let out half a laugh. "God don’t want nothin' to do with me. If you come back with Girl Scout cookies, maybe we can talk." You shake your head, open the door wider. "Miller, right?"

He glances up at you and nods once. "Yes, ma’am. You can call me Joel. You the one that hired me?" Do I look old? Ma’am feels old. I’m like a decade younger than him. Oh god, I need to moisturize.

"I guess so, Sir. You were the only one who answered the ad."

He huffs through his nose. "Figured it’d be worse. Place looks better than it did in the photos, at least."

You raise a brow. "You haven’t even seen inside yet."

"True. I never will if you don’t open the door, darlin’." Oh. Okay. That’s better. Darlin’ is definitely better.

You reach out your hand toward him, introduce yourself. He takes it. His hand engulfs yours. Calloused, hairy, fucking massive. You try to shake like you mean business, your dad’s voice echoing in your head about strong handshakes.

You step aside to let him in. He surveys the place like it’s a crime scene. Probably because it honest to god looks like one.

"No offense, ma’am," he says, looking around. "This place is a mess."

You shrug. "A mess was about all I could afford to buy. Besides, she’s got character." You cross your arms. "That’s why I hired a contractor."

He nods, dragging one of those big-ass hands down a particularly banged-up corner at the living room entrance. "That so?" he laughs. "Maybe we need Jesus to get involved after all—might need a carpenter who knows how to perform miracles."

You huff a laugh. "Well I got cash, not faith. Let’s see what that buys me."

He keeps walking, slow, deliberate, like each creak in the floorboards is telling him something. His eyes scan the water-stained ceiling, the slumped couch you haven’t had the guts to toss yet, the leaning doorframes.

You trail behind him, arms crossed, suddenly aware of the sweat under your bra and how empty your stomach feels. Saltines and gas station coffee aren’t holding up.

"Previous owner leave in a hurry?" Joel asks, toeing a half-unpacked box near the back door.

"If by hurry you mean five years of divorce proceedings and a nervous breakdown, then yeah. Real Irish goodbye."

That earns a quiet chuckle. You glance at him. His expression stays unreadable, but his mouth twitches like it wants to smirk.

He heads to the kitchen sink, turns the knob. The pipes groan. Nothing.

You wince.

He looks over his shoulder. "You been livin’ here without plumbing?"

"I’ve been surviving, thank you very much. It’s called character building." You laugh, “Maybe don’t get too close though.” You pick up the collar of your t-shirt and pretend to sniff it. The joke barely lands, you are indeed visibly sweaty. This is going so well. I love this for meHe looks you up and down, giving you a questioning look. It makes your pulse jump. Something about him is making you even sweatier, and you’re not being very fucking cool about it. “I’ve been staying at an AirBNB. I promise I’ve showered this week.”

He turns to face you fully, arms folded now. Broad as hell. The kind of man who fills a room without trying. "You planning to do any of this work yourself?"

You lift your chin. "Some of it."

He snorts. "You got tools, princess?" Oh… 

Wait, no, nope. Not a princess, not into a man being patronizing, even if he looks like this. Get it together. THINK OF THE PATRIARCHY.

"I have… a hammer. Somewhere."

"Mmhm.” he tilts his head, “it pink n’ glittery or what?”

He kneels down, already pulling a multi-tool from his back pocket. "I’ll get some measurements. But just so you know—houses like this? They got a way of showin’ people what they’re really made of. Sooner or later." You sigh, rubbing at your temple, feeling defeated already. “if you don’t want to take the job I understand, just let me know. Because I don’t exactly have time to fuck around here.” “I can do it. Just gonna take time is all.” He stands back up, putting the tool down on the kitchen island, pulling out a measuring tape. “You wanna talk numbers?” What you want to say is, ‘Yes. Yours. Cellphone preferably,’ but you can already taste the rubber from putting your foot in your mouth during this whole damn interaction. So you don’t. You settle on, “Yes, please don’t bankrupt me, I’m fragile.”

“Alrighty then, show me the rest of the place. We can give you a ballpark after I see how fucked up it really is.” You lead the way down the hall, you were smart—or maybe annoying, enough to mark a lot of the things you’ve found to be extra janky with sticky notes. He followed behind you, on your heel, too damn close, making notes on that fuckin’ clipboard the whole time. “Three bedrooms, huh? You got kids back at the BNB?” He asks you as you’re pacing the smallest room. You laugh, shocked. “Nope, no croch goblins, just dreams of somewhere for my friends from back home to stay in when they visit.” You look back at him, “Thinking of turning the other one into a ritual room or something, somewhere I can sacrifice goats n’ shit.” He doesn’t respond, doesn’t flinch. You laugh, awkward this time “I think it’s haunted anyway.” GIRL. WHY ARE YOU THE WAY YOU ARE? “Well, ’m not a witch, or warlock or whatever. But, I might know an exorcist if you really need one.” He replies with a wink. You stutter, “Noted,” and usher him into the bathroom. The bathroom is small, and he follows you in instead of standing in the doorframe. It’s a tight fit for two people, there are probably two feet between you as he surveys the place. He lets out a heavy breath, “Well fuck.” You groan, “Oh god, what is it? Wait. Actually…don’t tell me” You say as you turn around to see what he’s looking at. He’s just staring past you toward the wall beside the shower, the expression on his face tells you he sees something expensive to fix. “You see that?” He says, moving in a bit closer, pointing and reaching his arm past you, placing it on the wall, dragging a finger down. God, I am touch starved.

“There is, or at least was a leak in this wall. Probably why the waters turned off. Did your husband…boyfriend, whoever, not get an inspector here before you bought the place?” “See, that would involve having one of those.” “An inspector?”

You pause. “A boyfriend. Last one ended in a protection order and a move halfway across the country.” You laugh, say it like it’s a joke, but it’s not. He doesn’t need to know that , though. If you laugh about it it’s not so real, not so scary. “Didn’t have an inspector either.” He hums, and he’s so close that you can practically feel the vibration on your ear. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the proximity between you. He’s practically got you caged between him and the wall, the realization makes you light-headed. A shiver rolls down your shoulders, landing low in your spine. You shrug it off and turn around. What in the pornhub is going on? I need some fuckin’ air. You pratically trip over your own feet getting out of the bathroom, you duck under his arm, tossing some half-hearted, vaguely-human sound over your shoulder like “Okaycoolthanksnoted.” Joel says nothing again, just watches you spin away like roadrunner or some other cartoon character with a trauma response. You stumble down the hall, leaning against the opposite wall, trying to look casual and not like you just got a full body flashbang of a panic attack from a MAN explaining water damage. Baby calm the fuck down, he’s just tall!! You grab a loose piece of paper off the ground, fanning yourself with it. It has “TO DO: 1: TRY TO SURVIVE. 2: DON’T CRY” written on it in sharpie. The irony is honestly cinematic. A few seconds later Joel emerges from the bathroom, he’s got his eyes down, scribbling something onto the clipboard. He looks unfazed, like he has no idea that you feel like he was about to go 50 Shades of Plaid on you. “You good?” He asks, low, unreadable again. You freeze. He knows, he fucking knows. You clear your throat. “Oh yeah. Just, uh…tight bathroom. I’m claustrophobic, and allergic to mold, and men. You know, just girlie things.” He stares you down, one brow arched high. You decide to pivot. “Okay, so like…give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it? Realistically. On a scale of one to ‘the screen door is actually a portal to the underworld.’” Joel flips a page on the clipboard. “Well. You’ve got a lot of issues.” “Okay, ouch, didn’t have to just say it like that.” You chuckle, “Now what about the house?” “Couple walls need gutting, bathroom for sure. You got some foundation issues we need to check into, obviously the plumbing is fucked.” He sighs, tracing a line down the page with that dumb pencil, “Obviously it needs new trim, paint. I guess you could do most of that…I can get you the contract ready by Monday.” “Monday! Cool. Everyone loves Mondays, can’t wait.” He huffs something that might be a laugh. Nice. Then it’s silent for a moment, it’s thick and warm and low-key awful. Neither of you is saying anything; the only sound is a ceiling fan rattling its chain around. You catch yourself zoning out on his forearms, watching the veins pop out when he flexes slightly and flicks his tape measure closed. He notices. You know he notices. He finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice is lower now. Not condescending. Just… careful. You consider lying. About saying yes, of course, you’ve got it all handled. About pretending like this isnt a last-ditch attempt at rebuilding your life from the ground up after everything else burned down. But you’re tired. And this stranger is looking at you like he understands the version of you that doesn’t have it together. So you say, “If I'm being honest, not really. But I don’t have too many options.” Joel nods. “Well, seems like a decent place to start, then.”

Before he leaves, the two of you migrate to the back deck—if you’re even allowed to call it that. It’s less porch, more ominous wooden death trap. You already know this bad boy needs to be re-built. It’s really not on the top of your priority list. Joel takes one look at the wood rot, trails the warped boards and groans heavy from his chest. “You know this whole thing is rotted right?” “Do I look stupid? Mr. Miller?” You reply to him snarky, you’ve given up all grace at this point. Fuck it. Being off-putting and kind of mean is my new thing. You drop yourself down onto a broken pallet, sighing dramatically, swiping your hand across your forehead. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Joel. She’s got character, we’ve been over this.” You hear him mutter something about termites and OSHA violations, then watch as he lowers himself onto the step. He groans like a dad. It sounds like old injuries and unresolved tension.

He flips the paper over again, then, like Blues fuckin’ Clues, he’s listing things off like you didn’t hear it the first time. Plumbing, rewiring, subfloor replacement in the kitchen, and a new water heater. Your ears start ringing with the sound of a cash register, dollar signs flooding your mind. “Then labour?” you ask, voice very brave and not shaking at all. He gives you a number. A rough, but real number. Like five digits real. You nod. “Cool, cool. Totally doable. I’ve always loved bankruptcy, I think it's sexy, honestly.” Joel tilts his head at you like he’s still trying to figure you out. Good luck old man. You see the gears turning in his head, trying to feel out how much of your sarcasm is actually just fear. Scanning your face like he doesn’t know if you’re only half joking, or seconds away from tears. The Joke’s on him. Two things can be true at one time. “I can probably… get a bigger loan,” you mumble, mostly to the coffee can filled with cigarette butts next to you. “You only need one kidney, right? Also, I’m a regular plasma donor, you know where the blood bank is by chance?”

This time he gives you a real look, softer. Something that has dad energy behind it, care mixed with a bit of pity. “I can work with you on the schedule, ‘specially if you’re doin’ some of the demo yourself. Knock her out slower, cut down on the labour cost.” You blink. “Are you offering me a payment plan? Or trying to get me to weaponize a sledgehammer for your own sick enjoyment?”

He shrugs. “Both, mostly.” You watch him stand, groaning again, tucking his clipboard under his arm. The afternoon sun is hitting his hair just right. He pulls the pencil out from behind his ear and walks over to the doorframe like it's his handy dandy notebook. “Hello, Sir, are you about to deface my property?” He writes ten digits down, right onto the trim, no paper. Just rawdogging the wood with graphite. The number is definitely bigger than the estimate he just gave you. He looks back at you, proud like he was just tagging a masterpiece. Or warning the house. “Text me tomorrow,” he says, stepping back and admiring it like it’s something hung in the Lourve. “We’ll go over the schedule then, ok darlin’?” I know it’s just for work but like… Is he into me? I love being delusional. You stare at the frame. “You need me to…make you business cards, set you up an instagram account or something?” He shrugs again, giving you a salute as he walks out the back gate toward his truck. “Fresh outta cards. Pencils don’t need WIFI.” “You need to expand your horizons. Get hip with the kids!” You holler at him, just as you hear the door of the truck slam closed. Jesus, he’s literally one hundred years old. As the afternoon drags into dusk, the cicadas start screaming, signaling you to call it a day. You glance over at the boxes lined up against the wall, spotting one with ‘TOOLS’ written on it in sloppy print. You giggle as you pick it up, you hoist the box up onto the kitchen island, and rip off the tape. When you look inside, you start laughing harder. On top of the pile of junk in there is a hammer. It looks practically brand new, and the base of it… is pink. Joel was right. God I hate that guy already. You put the hammer own onto the counter beside the measuring tape and pause. Joel must have forgotten to grab it on his way out. You grab your phone and car keys, flicking off the lights in the house, double-checking that the front door is locked and head to the back.

You walk onto the porch and squint at the phone number written on the door trim, punching the digits into your cell. You add the new contact, and then hesitate over the message box for a moment before pressing the home button and tucking it away in your pocket.

The Airbnb is quiet, save the aircon whirring in the corner of the room. It’s a pleasant sound, and feeling after a long day sweltering in the house. It’s 9 pm, you’re starving and exhausted. You start to think about the price of the renovation, and the conversation you have to have with the bank tomorrow, sighing. Now that you have an estimate, you realize that you absolutely have no budget to rent this place anymore. Looks like you’re moving into the house ASAP. You groan at the thought of losing your A/C. You'll miss it, but not as much as you’re going to miss a functioning bathtub. You make a mental note to tell Joel tomorrow that you need to start with the plumbing. You walk into the kitchen, throwing your keys down on the dining table, and walk over to the fridge. You scan the shelves and settle on the leftover sitr-fry you ordered yesterday from some hole in the wall, you pull it out along with a beer. You mumble “Please do not give me food poisoning,” like a prayer, as you throw the box into the microwave. When you’re done with your food, you throw the box into the garbage and grab one more beer from the fridge, before dragging your feet toward the bathroom. You run a bubble bath, lighting some candles you picked up from the dollar store the other day. You lower yourself into the water and let it wash over your aching muscles, letting yourself relax into it. You sip your beer and scroll your phone for half an hour, you keep thinking about him. His phone number is there, in your contacts, taunting you. You, along with the help of two beers and a calorie deficit, convince yourself that you should text him. (9:45 PM) You: You forgot your tape measure, genius. It takes him a few minutes to respond, the perfect amount of time for you to start spiraling and regretting hitting send.

(9:51 PM) Joel Miller: You’re bad at listenin’. Said text me tomorrow, instructions too hard, darlin? You roll your eyes at him through the screen. (9:52 PM) You: Fuck u too!! I was just trying to be nice 🙄 (9:54 PM) Joel Miller: sure you are. Don’t need it. (9:55 PM) You: dont need me to be nice? I’ll remember that. Three dots pop up and then, (9:58 PM) Joel Miller: don’t need the tape measure, got more than one.

You hum to yourself, flipping through your brain like a rolodex, trying to find a witty enough response but you arent quick enough (9:59 PM) Joel Miller: don’t remember askin you to be nice, but if this is it im scared to see the opposite. What the fuck does that mean? Fuck it. (10:04 PM) You: see, you say that like you wouldnt secretly love to see me come unhinged. Sounds like a challenge to me, joel. You: Kinda funny you think you’d survive it, though. Most people don’t stick around long enough to see the full show. You stare at your phone for too long, thumb hovering over the unsend button like its a detonator. He doesn’t open it, doesn’t text back. You’re left with the slow, creeping awareness that you said too much. Again. Very on brand.

You dunk your head down into the water, and you immediately regret that too. You sit up, coughing and blowing bath water out of your nose. You really are the epitome of a calm, collected hot girl today. You start to crash out. Is he joking? Flirting? Warning you? Testing your boundaries? Is this just his weird version of small talk? Are you overthinking this? Yes. Absolutely

Is he in bed right now? Reading your texts over and deciding whether he's going to just send you an invoice for a consult and never step foot in your house again? Oh god, is he going to send YOU a restraining order? You pull the plug in the bath, let the water drain out, and turn the tap on, pulling up on the little lever to let the shower pour over your body. You’re lying there, like you're reenacting some dramatic scene in a movie or music video, where someone's lying in the middle of the street getting rained on. Except you’re just on the floor of a tub, contemplating your very existence, considering moving back out of Texas, maybe you could fake your own death. You turn the tap off, and stumble out of the tub, wrapping yourself up tight in a towel, heading for the bedroom. You throw on an old t-shirt and flop into bed, mind still going in circles as you stare up at the ceiling. You go over the texts one more time and cringe harder. Idiot. That last one truly came out sounding a little too honest, even for you. Like a confession, cosplaying as a dare. You put the phone face down on the nightstand and try to rationalize it. Maybe he’s asleep, he’s old, right? Maybe he’s watching some stupid movie. Maybe he read it and is just… stunned silent by your off-putting yet endearing charm. Totally, that's the one.Or maybe, he’s now just deeply, deeply, concerned that his new client has both abandonment issues and a God complex. You silently scream into your pillow, giving up on the Airbnb ceiling, that bitch had nothing to say. Waiting. Still no reply. Sleep starts to take you, as the sound of the aircon and your own heartbeat mixes like white noise, a little too loud in your ears. You fall asleep thinking about baseboards, leaky pipes, and his hands

ps. if you like this fic please tell me because your comments are what keeps me writing!

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.

f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!

word count: 898 // read on ao3

a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.” 

If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment. 

“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”

“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.” 

Ah, there it is.

Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels. 

There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.

The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.

Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday). 

Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land. 

But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight. 

And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.

It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.

He gets a hmph! in response.

“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?” 

The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”

Oh, he knows. 

“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out. 

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble. 

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. 

Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

“I lied.”

“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. 

“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”

You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?

Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?

“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”

“You mean it?”

“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”

And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing. 

“Let’s get you inside.�� Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”

“So I am. Ow.” 

You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.

But also something else. Something shiny. 

He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Look who it is - Lucien x reader

A/N: Here's the second part of "fun night", I couldn't let Lucien and reader be after all those drunk confessions, right? It can be read as a stand-alone too!

Warnings: injury, pining (tiny bit of angst), hot daycourt!lucien, happy ending!

Your head was pounding because of the alcohol you drank yesterday, when you lazily strolled into the sitting room that connected Lucien’s bedroom to yours. Lucien was casually lounging in the couch, a book in his lap. “Look who it is, mrs drunk face!” he grinned. “Ugh” you could only answer when you fell next to him on the couch, your palm on your forehead. “I’ve got some tonic for you, over there” he nodded to the table. “Oh you’re the best Lu” you smiled.

He was always so sweet to you. Yes, he could be a prick sometimes, but that was out of love. Probably because he felt some sister/brother relation between the two of you, to your disappointment… “You said something like that last night” he snickered. “I-what?” you asked confused. But Lucien only stared at you with his signature grin. “Nothing, nothing” he sighed.

“Well, I hope I didn’t make a fool out of myself, because I was obviously too drunk to be aware of what I say” you chuckled. You could’ve sworn you saw hurt flicker in his pretty russet eye, the metal whirring next to it. You really hoped you didn’t say something horrible to him last night. “I didn’t… insult you or something yesterday, right?” you hesitated, carefully placing your hand on his leg. Lucien only shrugged, “Of course not, nothing to worry about y/n/n." Relieve washed over you, but your hangover still felt horrible. That stupid excuse of a high lord Helion feeded you alcohol again, you scowled him in your head, laced with affection.

“What you should worry about though, is the fact you look horrible, with all do respect” the man next to me teased. “It’s not like I have to go anywhere today, it’s Sunday”. But Lucien started laughing at what you said, “it’s Monday honey, we have a meeting with the lord of Tevedra in… half an hour”. You shot out of the couch. “What?!”

Tevedra was an important city in the day court, the meeting you, Lucien and Helion had with him was also very important. How could you forget this, how could Helion possibly give you that much alcohol the evening before? “I’m going to kill your father” you groaned, stomping to your bedroom to get ready. You heard Lucien laugh behind you.

You quickly dressed appropriately to meet the nobility, choosing a sparkling white dress that squeezed your hips and flowed around your ankles. You also put on some jewelry and make up and you curled your hair, trying to cover up the fact you had a hangover. You ran out of the bathroom, back into the joined living room. Helion and Lucien were already standing there, both very handsome in the typical Day Court gowns. They both looked up when they heard you run in. “Just in time” you breathed out. “You look really beautiful y/n” Lucien was staring at you. The compliment, if it was one, made you blush. You tried to hide it, but it was no use, both males saw. “T-thank you Lucien” you stuttered. “Let’s go” Helion grinned, looking at the both of you with a big smirk. 

You followed them into the corridor, you couldn’t help but notice how much they look alike when you walked behind them. The power radiated from both of them, they both walked with such grace and strength, the sun reflecting on their beautiful skin. When you first met Helion you had a little crush on the High Lord. But it was nothing compared to how you felt when you’d first met Lucien. The same beauty and flirtatiousness as his father, but with such beautiful copper locks and an interesting metal eye. You felt different with him, it was more than just a silly crush. 

“How are you feeling y/n? Not to worn out I hope?” Helion teased, looking at you behind him. "You got me drunk" you grumpily said. Helion laughed, "don't act like it wasn't your choice too y/n, luckily our dear Lucien was so kind to put you in bed”

“Oh, yeah, I remember” you tried to think about what had happened. “You do?” Lucien suddenly snapped his head to you. “Well, not that much, just… I don’t know” you sighed. Lucien seemed disappointed by that. And then you remembered. Oh shit, this was so embarrassing, you practically told him that you wanted him last night. You said you'd get over him. “Oh no, I-I remember…” you stuttered. It was a challenge to face Lucien, you were too scared of his reaction, but in the corner of your eyes you saw the distraught look on his face.

And before you knew it, Lucien was falling. Hard. Tumbling down the big marble stairs you were descending. You weren’t even surprised by how graceful he fell, Lucien was always graceful. But he kept falling. His head smacking against the stone. “Lucien” Helion shouted with worry. Your own heart stopped beating for a moment. He was Fae, he would survive this. But still, it was like your instincts were screaming at you, like a rock crushed your whole body. Worry flooded your senses. “Oh my god” you breathed out, running down the stairs to him. He looked unconscious.

And then you felt it. A snap. A thread, trying to pull you closer to him. “No, no, no, this can’t be real, this- this..” You started to panic. All this time? All those years that you've been pining over you best friend, he was actually your mate? “Don’t worry y/n, he isn’t that injured, he will heal quickly, I promise” Hellion said. But that wasn’t what you were so panicked about. “I know.. but he’s… he’s…” the words were stuck in your throat. Helion grabbed your shoulder, “Hey y/n, he'll be okay, calm down”

“He’s my mate”

𖤓••☼••𖤓••☼••𖤓••☼••𖤓

Lucien still looked so beautiful and powerful like his, that subtle halo still shining around his bronze skin. Even when he was laying there, on the bed you were sitting on, so vulnerable, bruises that where already healing all over his face. You stroked his hair carefully. Then he stirred. "Y/n", his voice was raspy and soft, eyes still closed but a soft smile on his lips. It was love and appreciation you could hear in that voice, you then realized. “Gods, I’m so embarrassed, a High Lord’s heir, falling from the stairs like a clumsy human boy” he groaned. You laughed softly, playing with the copper strands between your fingers. “You are embarrassed? I should be the embarrassed one when I think about what I told you last night” you giggled. Lucien laughed with you. "How are you feeling?" you breathed. "I'm okay, it'll heal fast." There was a comfortable silence for a moment. Just you and him, your hands stroking him lovingly. "Lucien, we... we need to talk."

"If it's about last night, it's okay, really, you don't have to be sorry for things you didn't mean" he sighed. But you shook your head. "No, not about that." Lucien's brows furrowed. You didn't know how to put it into words, so you just tugged on the invisible thread between you two. Lucien gasped, eyes in shock. "W-Where...W-what" he stuttered. "You're my mate" you whispered, your fingers softly traced his cheek. "You know? It snapped into place?” he said, tears lining his eyes. "You knew? Why didn't you just tell me Lu?"

Lucien shook his head, speechless. He carefully placed his hand over the one you had on his cheek. "I wanted it to be yours too. I wanted you to have the liberty. And I-I thought you didn't want me." he whispered with desperation is his eyes. “Lucien, I’ve been in love with you from the first day I met you” you smiled shakily, tears in your eyes. Lucien only stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Tell me what you think” you sighed, hopeful. Lucien smiled, “It’s not often that I’m at loss for words”, he waited for a second, “I-I love you y/n. I really do. I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long. I got scared, I’m so sorry”

“Oh Lucien” you sighed “don’t apologise, can I… can I lay next to you?” He opened one arm slowly, inviting you. “I love you too” you whisper, while laying down next to him in his arms. You placed your leg over his and burried your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. Your mates scent. You could feel it in every sense now, that he was yours, and you were his. Finally.

“Guess I should wait and offer you some food when you’re healed, right?” you smiled. He laughed. “Yes, when i’m in good shape for the… acceptance phase…” he smirked.

You couldn’t wait for all that was ahead of you. Your life, with your best friend and mate.

𖤓••☼••𖤓••☼••𖤓••☼••𖤓

[lunajay33]

Over Looked Part.2

•🪽🌌🌑•

Summary: Being the youngest Archeron sister was hard and when you’re thrown into a new life as a high fae living in the night court people don’t see your struggle, and the one you crave only has eyes for your sister Elain

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Info: Elain and Nesta always hated reader, Rhys and Feyre adore her, angst with a happy ending

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a month since I left and no one has found me yet, I’m either really good at hiding or they just haven’t tried to look for me, the look one Azriels face when I told him we’re mates haunts me every night, like he felt desperate and betrayed at the same time, most likely disappointment that it wasn’t Elain

I’ve been wandering between the different courts surviving within the wild like I did when I tried to find Feyre, I eventually found myself here in the summer court just relaxing on the beach, I’ve been here for about a week in the same spot just eating fruits I find along the beach

“I’ve come to find out that the pretty girl sitting on my beach for a week is none other than the high lady of the night courts sister” I hear from beside me looking up from my spot I see a darker skinned man in all his glory, he must be the high lord of the summer court

“Oh I’m sorry, this has been the nicest court I’ve ventured through yet, I just wanted to visit for a while, I can go” I say frantic packing some fruits into my bag and going to walk away when he gently grabs my arm

“Sweetie you can stay as long as you want but what concerns me is that you’re looking quiet….frail, disheveled, my guards tell me you’ve ate nothing but stray fruits, why don’t you come back to my palace and I’ll get you a proper meal” his voice is like liquid gold

“Oh I don’t know I don’t wanna be an inconvenience”

“Please it would be my honour” I hesitate but eventually nod when my stomach grumbles

He leads the way and upon arrival the house in magnificent, the decor is ocean based and gold, we sit at a table when servants come in with platters of food and my eyes grow wide

“This is too much”

“Eat what you can, during then I’d like to ask you a few questions” I nod as I fill my plate munching down on the food like a wild animal

“So why are you here and not in the night court?” And I feel that pang in my chest again

“I don’t feel welcome there, the high lord and lady and Cassian are wonderful but…..I just can’t stand it anymore”

“What about your two other sisters and that one Azriel” I look at him with pleading eyes to drop it but I know he won’t

“My mate is into another, he doesn’t even care that I left”

“That doesn’t sound right, mates would do anything for eachother” I shrug sighing

“Don’t tell them I’m here” he gives me sad eyes then looks behind me, I turn seeing Feyre and Rhys

“Y/n we’ve been looking everywhere for you” Feyre cries pulling me into a hug looking over my features and her expression saddens

“You look just like the day Azriel found you in the woods” I look down too ashamed

“I’m sorry I just couldn’t handle seeing Az with her anymore”

“He’s been a mess since you left, he’s looked everywhere his shadows are out of control, he needs you” Rhys says

“What about when I needed him and he was all over Elain, I thought mates were suppose to be happy ever after like you guys, why does nothing ever work for me” he sighs as he rubs my arm

“We know it’s hard sweetheart but just come back and we will figure something out and if you still feel the same you can come back here and relax at the beach” he says pleading with me

I groan but give it not wanting to upset them

“You’re always welcomed here my dear” thesian said before Rhys winows us back

I’m back in the living room of the house of wind and I’m immediately engulfed by Cassian picking me up and spinning me around

“God I missed you Nesta has been draining me” he smiles squeezing me so tight I might pop

“Can’t breathe cas” he sets me down and looks me over like Rhys and Feyre did

“Oh angel….i looked all over for you you know, where have you been?”

“All over the courts, wandering through the forests and plains, winter court was not fun I almost got taken by a polar bear” I laugh but they’re all serious, the room falls silent and I feel the familiar sensation of the shadows running all over my body and not just one or two but all of them wiggling everywhere excited almost until I’m basically just a black blob

“They’ve missed you” I hear from the couch, I turn and it’s Azriel, he looks skinnier, his eyes dark, scruff grown and his hair a mess

“I…I’ve missed them too” they tighten around me reassuringly as he stands and walks to me

“I’m sorry” and I feel my heart break when I feel that thread between us pulling me to him

“I understand I guess, Elain is beautiful and talented but……why did you ignore me too, I am struggling too”

“I guess I just hung onto her because she reminded me of you when I first found you, you were so scared in the woods and I guess since I didn’t heal you I could heal her”

I feel the shadows pull me to him and I rest my head against his chest and everything felt okay for a moment like it was suppose to be the whole time and his arms holding me close

“I know you can’t forgive everything right away but let me show you how good this can be and the mother was right to bring us together”

“One last chance Azriel, prove to me that this is real”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original? 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round. 

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance. 

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray! 

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.  

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty. 

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF 

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Final Quest

Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Requested by: @reader-bookling123: hiii I had a request for Luke where it kinda takes place in the past but he was dating reader and they were deeply in love but on their quest somehow reader sadly dies and Luke is just heartbroken and angry and he’s mad that everyone just moved on from her and maybe some cute reuniting moment

Summary: How a quest with the love of Luke's life turned him away from the gods

Warnings: Angst, major spoilers for series, graphic description of death, suicide (technically), anger, resentment, pain, fluffy ending, Dionysus and Apollo slander

Word count: 5.5K

Masterlist

Later A/N So I'm just now rereading Titan's Curse for the first time in like four years so I forgot that the Garden of Hesperides is west in the books. However, when I was researching the myth it was said to be some place north so I chose Canada. So that's why it doesn't reflect the book.

“Happy birthday, Luke,” my girlfriend smiled. Our lips were so close our noses were already touching. But just as I could feel the fleeting touch of her lips on mine, there was a flash of light, making her jump away from me in surprise. Looking over to the source of the light, I found my father standing three feet from us on the dock.

Neither of us had time to react before Hermes was speaking. “Hi Luke! Happy birthday. I have a gift for you.”

“Uh… th-thank you,” I tried to sound grateful but I was a little caught off guard and annoyed he ruined the moment.

“Oh, sorry!” he laughed, noticing my girlfriend who was still half in my lap. “How are you Y/N?”

“I- I’m well, Lord Hermes. How are you?” she asked nervously, awkwardly scooting away from me, moving her legs so their weight no longer rested on mine.

“Oh, no need with the Lord stuff. I may not be the god of prophecy but I am the god of gambling and I’m betting you two will get married. We’ll be family!”

“Father,” I tried to interrupt him as the embarrassment coursed through my veins, bringing heat up to my face. I didn’t even want to see Y/N’s reaction I was so nervous and embarrassed.

“Oh, right. Sorry kid. I forgot how much you teenagers hate sharing your feelings. But uh I’ve heard your prayers and offerings Luke and I have a quest for you.” My eyes widened. Finally. All my training would pay off. I could prove myself and go down in history as a hero. “I need you to get me the golden apples in Hesperides’ garden. Hera is getting a little too insufferable these days y’know?”

Y/N and I sent each other looks, our mouths open in hesitation. Our next words had to be careful. If we agreed to the wrong thing we’d be insulting Hera and I was sure she’d strike us down right here. She didn’t like demigods, to her we were an offense to marriage. Especially the ones that were a product of offense to her own marriage. “Thank you for the quest,” I carefully dodged his last comment.

“Of course, kid. Here, you’ll need this.” He snapped his fingers and in another blaze of heavenly light, a duffle bag appeared in his hands. “Well, good luck. I’ll see you back here when you bring me my apples,” he smiled, handing me the bag. “Uh, avert your eyes,” he warned. Waiting for us to cover our eyes, he disappeared in a golden spray of light.

When the world dimmed again I turned to Y/N. “Oh my god!” she yelled excitedly. She stood up, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking us both into the water. I laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “Luke, you’re gonna be a hero!” she gushed, pulling away so she could look at me.

“We’re gonna be heroes,” I assured her, placing a hand on her face. “Come with me,” I requested. My heart was thumping quickly in my chest out of excitement and nervousness. “We can be the Greek Bonnie and Clyde. Hundreds of years from now demigods will read our myths and say, ‘We can be like Y/N and Luke.’”

She looked at me, confused. “Luke, they were criminals and died tragically,” she laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay wrong analogy but you get the idea. Please, I can’t do this without you.” As much as I wanted my glory, I knew the Daughter of Apollo wanted it too. And I’d be damned if I couldn’t give it to her.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes!” I cheered, hugging her so tightly I ended up lifting her off the wooden docks. She laughed as I began to spin, even almost spinning us into the cold water.

~

After talking to Chiron and getting my prophecy, Y/N and I were off in a car that Mr. D had somehow acquired. The only reason we were allowed to take it was because I was 17 and had a little driving experience from when I would take my mom’s car when she was too out of it to even get groceries. I shook off the thoughts as Y/N once again went through our supplies and plan. She seemed nervous even though I assured her numerous times we’d be fine.

“Drachma, cash, ambrosia, passports, drivers license, an enchanted map, and a bow and arrow,” she repeated the contents of the duffle bag. “The Garden of Hesperides is in northern Canada,” she mused, looking at the map. “Heracles defeated Ladon with a bow and arrow by piercing each head through the eye.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assured, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on her thigh. I left it there, rubbing calming circles on the skin of her leg with my thumb. “Heracles did it before…” I said, the words slowly dying as they came out. Heracles already did it. I tried to shake off the thought that I was just redoing a quest. They were so uncommon nowadays it was an honor to be chosen for one. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to chase the doubt away. Besides, Heracles technically failed his quest, he didn’t bring them to Eurystheus. I would succeed in bringing them to the person who had requested them.

“What was the prophecy again?” she asked, still looking at the map.

I swallowed nervously. The prophecy was not optimistic for us. I couldn’t possibly imagine what we’d find out about each other on this trip that would cause us to lose our love for one another. “You shall go north to fruits, rare / Liar to liar, a father’s heir, / Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,” I repeated.

“‘You shall go north to fruits, rare,’” she repeated. “Obviously that means we’re going north to find the golden apples. “‘Liar to Liar, a father’s heir.’ Hermes is the god of lies. And I guess stealing makes you deceitful. Ergo, a liar… ‘Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,’” she repeated. I could hear the dread infiltrating her voice.

“Hey,” I interrupted her thinking with a squeeze to her thigh, “that could mean anything. Prophecies are just a guide. A starting point. It was so short and vague that we don’t even know if it’s talking about us. We’ll be fine,” I promised again.

“Yeah, of course,” came her voice. I glanced away from the road, finding a weak smile on her face.

“What kind of music does Dionysus have?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She opened the glove compartment, several things falling out of it.

She began to go through them. “Um, a concerning amount of Weird Al Yankovic.” I laughed as she continued to look through. She then gasped. “Oh my gods.” She held up something next to me that I took. I nearly slammed on the brakes as I glanced down at it.

I couldn’t stare at the CD in my hand too long so we wouldn’t crash but every time I glanced down at it I found a new horrifyingly wonderful detail on the album cover. It was Mr. D with the weirdest haircut I had ever seen. He was lying down on a cheetah print rug, his shirt was a zebra print and had the first several buttons undone so the viewer could see all of his glorious chest hair. That wasn’t even the most outrageous part. Mr. D was lying down next to a tiger with a gold chain around its neck. Hanging from the chain was presumably Mr. D’s stage name, “Dionomite” written in gold cursive and studded with diamonds. “We have to listen to this!”

“Already ahead of you,” she said, punching buttons on the dash. She took the CD from me and put it in. Once it was ready, our ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of various horn instruments being poorly played. “Did he play all the instruments himself?”

“Probably,” I answered as Mr. D’s voice came on. “Oh…” was all I could say as the squeaky singing made my eardrums bleed.

It was funny for a couple songs but then it just got annoying so we switched over to a single Beatles album.

~

We reached the Canadian border in only a couple hours. Thanks to the Mist we could drive as fast as we wanted without fear of mortal cops.

As we pulled up to the gate, the guard switched. Must have been a shift change. I thought nothing of it as I rolled down the window. “Passports?” the guard tiredly asked. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses despite the fact that he was under shade. I became wary but handed him the documents anyway. “Any plants, animals, dairy products, or drugs in the car?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“What’s the nature of your quest, demigods?” The customs officer removed his sunglasses, revealing a single eye. He then grew about three feet, revealing a cyclops.

“Hit the gas!” Y/N yelled beside me. I did, taking off. Now we had both a cyclops and the Canadian border police after us as I crashed through the plastic gate that went up and down. I swerved around guards and other cars, getting up on sidewalks and surely ruining the paint job.

But up ahead I could see them closing a heavy looking gate. Gods on our side or not we weren’t getting through that gate. So I swerved into the trees. “Hold on!” they were sparse enough that the car could fit in between the trees. Glancing in the mirror, I could no longer see border guards. But there was a 9 foot tall cyclops following us in the distance. Which would be fine, he’d never catch up to the car but the woods were getting thicker and now I didn’t know which way was the road.

Nature made its decision for me as I heard Y/N’s scream. “Luke look out!” But it was too late. A violent force stopped us and the car was suddenly still. There was so much force I was half afraid the cyclops had a friend but I just found a tree in the middle of the hood where the engine used to be. “Run!” I told my girlfriend, frantically unbuckling my seatbelt.

I ran to the other side, finding her struggling with the seatbelt. She threw the duffle bag at me before pulling out her knife and cutting the seatbelt away. When she hopped out, I took her hand. We ran further into the trees, the cyclops’ thunderous footsteps right behind us.

“Luke, we can’t run forever,” she breathed. She was right. We’d run out of energy before that thing did.

I thought for a moment, thinking of how we’d kill this thing. “At that big tree,” I pointed to a huge pine tree right in our path, “split up. Then we’ll circle back around and hit him from the side.” She nodded in understanding. We ran full speed at the tree until we each turned on the balls of our feet, dashing out of the cyclops’ path. The plan worked better than expected because he ran face first into the solid pine tree.

He crumpled to the ground, giving me time to retrieve my sword from the duffle bag. By the time I looked up, Y/N was already dancing around the beast, cutting him up with her knife. I jumped in, giving him the same treatment. We worked as a flawless team, striking and giving the other space as needed. Until finally, she cut the thing’s heels, forcing him to the ground. I took the opportunity to stab him in the eye, leaving behind only a pile of shimmery ichor.

When he was gone, I immediately pulled Y/N in my arms. Even at the relative safety of camp, I always needed her in my arms to calm down after battle. To assure myself that she was still there and I was still alive. The sound of her breath in my ear helped ground me. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, you?” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry I crashed the car.” She chuckled, pulling away from me.

“You’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s go see what supplies we can save and start walking.”

While the car was unsalvageable, all of our stuff was fine. So we grabbed out backpacks full of winter clothes and started following the map. It wasn’t that bad now but it’d be cold by the time night fell so I forced Y/N to put on sweatpants over her shorts.

I was kind of hoping the map would take us to civilization where we could rest for the night but it just seemed to bring us deeper into the forest and we had no flashlight. As it got darker and colder I got more nervous. “We have to find some sort of shelter for tonight.”

“I know it’s dark but it’s not that-” A pack of wolves howling cut her off. “Okay, yeah,” she agreed. She began looking around. “Any chance you could climb one of these trees? I don’t really want to be on the ground.”

I shook my head. “Even if I could get up high enough I don’t think any of the branches would support us.”

She huffed. “Shelter it is, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the wolves,” I teased. She had just killed a literal cyclops but she was afraid of some dogs.

“Hey, I don’t mess with wolves,” she said sternly. “After I saw that one movie about the kids stuck on the ski lift. You wouldn’t catch me in the woods at night yet here we are.”

“What about Capture the Flag?” I asked as we started collecting stuff to make a shelter.

“Well that’s different. There’s like 30 of us out there.”

“Do you want me to start sticking with you during the games? You know, if a wolf wanders in?” I teased.

“I’ll make my own shelter for tonight, thank you very much,” she said matter o’ factly.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” I apologized, tugging her back to me as she tried to storm off to get supplies. “Besides, we need each other’s body heat to keep us warm,” I whispered teasingly.

“Not a chance out here,” she scolded me.

“Worth a try,” I shrugged. “Everyone knows you can better preserve body heat if you’re not wearing clothes.” She just gave me an exasperated look before walking off again. “I’m joking!” I yelled after her.

By the time we had the shelter built up only about an hour had passed. We used pine needles to try to protect out bodies from the cold ground. And we used our winter coats as a blanket since we zipped them together. We laid down in the shelter, still shivering despite our best efforts. I held her close as she curled up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “Get some sleep,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.” I agreed with absolutely no intentions of waking her up. Judging by how fast her breathing evened out despite her constant shivers, she needed the sleep more than me. In the morning she’d yell at me for not waking her but it was worth it.

~

We had only been walking for a few minutes when we came across sled dogs. Ten siberian huskies all laying around patiently, harnessed to a sled. “Maybe these were the wolv-”

“Shut up,” she warned, giving me a light smack against the shoulder. I laughed as she hesitantly approached the dogs. “Hey guys, you waiting for someone?” She slowly reached her hand out to one of the dogs who calmly sniffed it before licking it eagerly. She gave him some scratches behind the ear in return. “Awe you’re such a good boy.” The dogs were now all up, wagging their tails and whining for pets.

I went up to the sled, finding a satchel tied to it. Opening it I found dog treats and a note. “All good huntresses need a pack of wolves.” Underneath it was a crescent moon. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the sender of the gift. Her aunt, Artemis. Last year, during the winter solstice, Artemis and her hunters had visited briefly. One of the hunters, Zoe, befriended Y/N. And even after she had told them she had a boyfriend, they still tried to recruit her. It never sat right with me, the way Artemis seemed so okay with breaking up a relationship.

“It’s for you,” I told Y/N, handing her the note. I handed her the note and she took it. She just sighed before stuffing it back into the satchel. “I don’t know why she’s so determined to recruit you.”

“I don’t know either,” she said, already tying our stuff to the sled. “But she’s gonna be disappointed because I’m kind of really into this one guy. I don’t know if you know him but he’s the son of Hermes. He’s gonna be a great Greek hero.” Her praise was enough for me to let go of my anger. Stooping down, I pressed a kiss to her lips.

The pack of sled dogs was perfect for the Canadian wilderness except for one problem. There was no snow. Still, they managed to pull us so smoothly it was like snow.

Soon enough, we pulled up to a garden. If it weren’t for the fact that they were literally in the middle of nowhere, this garden would be unassuming. It had a white picket fence and looked to be about an acre. Thousands of different types of plants grew, enchanting us with its smell. Off in the distance, in the middle of the garden, I could faintly see the golden fruits, the sun glinting off of them.

“The nymphs never gave Heracles a problem,” Y/N shrugged. I nodded, cautiously opening the gate, sword in hand. She held the bow up, an arrow already knocked. A quiver of them were slung over her back.

We crept in quietly, watching for signs of danger. She would watch our surroundings and made sure no nymphs attacked us while I kept an eye on the multi-headed dragon, making sure he didn’t stir.

Once we were about 20 feet away, he still wasn’t stirring. Y/N kneeled down behind some greenery, lining up her arrow. She took aim and fired. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the many scale covered head. The beast didn’t so much as stir. She looked back at me, as if seeking assurance. I nodded, telling her to try again. But rather than just take aim again, she crept a little closer. I almost told her to get back but I was afraid the dragon would wake up at my yelling. I held my breath, heart pounding as she tried again. This time she sunk it right through the eyelid but before either of us could react, another head moved. It snapped at her, jaws clenching around her waist. My blood turned to ice as I heard her pained scream. It was so horrifying to hear my body seemed to turn to lead.

I needed to save her. I forced my body into a run. I slashed at the neck that was currently holding my girlfriend in the air. Ladon dropped her, not without a claw slashing at me in turn. I managed to dodge it, scrambling over to Y/N. I wasn’t even comprehending whether or not she was conscious or if she was alive. I was too busy trying to tug her away. Golden fucking apples be damned.

I reached her, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to tug her to safety. But before I could make much progress, the beast’s claw was in my face again. But I noticed it too late this time, too focused on my girlfriend’s very pale face. The claw hit me in the face, sweeping me to the side. I couldn’t feel the pain but I could see the blood seeping into my vision. I tried to wipe it away but it just kept coming. With my non-blinded eye I could see Ladon going back to his prior position as if we were nothing. Like he wasted no energy maiming us. Nonetheless, it allowed me to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her awake.

“Y/N, we need to go!” I said frantically, worried he’d come back for round two if we didn’t get out soon. “Can you walk?” I looked down at her body and knew the answer. Her shirt was covering the extent of her wounds but teeth marks, each a few inches across, tore through her shirt and there was blood. So much blood.

“With help,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Okay, good,” I nodded. Her assurance eased me slightly. I slung her arm across my shoulder before pulling her up. She screamed as I raised her off the ground but nevertheless gritted her teeth and bore it.

“No!” she cried as I tried to wrap my arm around her to support her weight. I realized that in doing so I’d be pressing into her wounds. She sobbed in pain the entire time we slowly stumbled out of the garden. It pained me to hear her cries but I had to get her out of here. If I could just get her to the sled I could give her some ambrosia and she’d be fine.

When I finally got her outside the gate, I laid her down. I’d get her onto our transportation once she wasn’t in such a critical condition. “Hold on, I’ll get you some ambrosia,” I told her, moving toward the sled. But the weakest tug held me back.

I looked down at her, finding blood, sweat, and tears covering her face. “No,” she cried. Tears were pouring down her face as sobs wracked her body. “Ambrosia won’t help.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I held her face. Oh, her beautiful face. My heart clenched seeing it twisted in agony. “You’re gonna be fine. I promised you. I’m not a liar…” Tears were falling down my face now. She’s not fine. I realized that I’d become an unknowing liar.

Her hand reached up to my face, her thumb swiping over my blood covered cheek. “You’re not a liar. We were doomed from the start.” She took a labored breath and deep inside, I knew it was the end for her.

“Come on, no. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” I cried. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. As if physically holding on to her would keep her from slipping through my fingers like the wind. “Just hold on until I can get you to a hospital.”

“We don’t have time.” A small smile tugged at her face and I knew she was smiling through the pain for my sake. “I love you, Luke. Promise me you’ll move on?”

“What? No. You know I won’t. You’re the love of my life,” I insisted.

“Please, at least try?” she asked. “I don’t want you following me too soon,” she tried to joke. But her laugh turned into pained sobs as the movement hurt her body.

I cried harder seeing her in so much pain. Her breathing was getting shallower and more labored. “Fine, I’ll try,” I swore. Lie. “I love you. So much.”

“I’ll see you in Elysium,” she said through a peaceful smile. It would be a welcome sight if it weren’t for the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. I turned her to the side slightly so she wouldn’t choke on it but it wasn’t enough. The blood was coming faster and her body was shutting down. “I love you,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut.

“No, wake up!” I cried, shaking her slightly. “Wake up!” Her breaths were getting shorter and I was getting more desperate. “Do something!” I yelled up at the sky. Her father. My father. Anyone! But no one came. Her wounds didn’t stitch themselves together and her eyes didn’t open. I held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder long after she stopped breathing. Even the dogs started howling at the gods when her heart stopped beating.

~~~

“That’s why I hate the gods,” I murmured to Percy, watching the scorpion slowly creep up his leg. “They finally granted me a quest. It was all I ever wanted. But it was a joke. All my father wanted to do was piss off Hera and he was okay with using me and my girlfriend as collateral damage. And her father, Apollo,” the name came out of his mouth like venom, “the god of prophecy and healing let his daughter die. He knew she was going to die, even before the quest. And when he had the opportunity to save her, he ignored her.”

“I’m sorry she died but-”

“No!” I cut Percy off. “It would be one thing if she just died but she died over a fucking prank war. She died an agonizing death. Her aunt, Artemis, intervened in our quest but she still let her niece die a slow, painful death. They didn’t even help me bring her back to camp so she could be buried properly. I had to bury her in the woods like I had killed her and was covering up a crime.” I swiped away a tear as I noticed it slip down my face. I still couldn’t decide what was worse. Feeling her die in my arms or leaving her out there in the woods to rot. “And to make matters worse, no one seemed to care that she died. When I finally got back to camp a month later, they just pitied me. I begged Chiron to let me and some others go get her so we could give her a proper funeral but he refused. And when I tried to get others to join me to convince him, no one would go. After a couple days no one seemed to care that Y/N L/N was dead. A week later, another Apollo camper was claimed and they just gave her bunk away to him. Like she meant nothing.”

“But why Kronos? I’ve never heard of a demigod turning away from the gods. Even when horrible things happened.”

I sighed in contentment, remembering the projection he showed me. “Because he can bring her back. We’ll be immortal and without pain forever. He showed her to me. He said she’s happy in Elysium but she misses me,” I smiled softly. “But she misses camp too,” I laughed bitterly. “Annabeth, Grover, she probably would’ve missed you had you two met. But she never got the opportunity. But now, with Kronos, I’ll get to give her everything she wants.” I looked over at the kid. He seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Goodbye Percy,” I said as I stood.

“I’ll tell everyone at camp about you!” he called after me.

“If you make it. Pit scorpion venom will kill you in 60 seconds. Even if you do make it, I’ll still be long gone.”

~~~

I sunk the blade into my Achilles heel, destroying Kronos’ life source inside me. I laughed as I could feel him leaving me. And continued to laugh as I fell to the ground and felt my own life draining out of me. Looking up, I found Annabeth above me, her curls hanging in my face. “I’m gonna see Y/N,” was all I said.

Tears welled in her eyes as I felt her comforting hand stroke my hair. “Yeah you are. I know how much you missed her.”

“I’ll see you there too,” I promised her, just like Y/N promised me.

~

I stood in front of the Judges of the Underworld. I knew I messed up in my life but my sacrifice had to amount to something. And I had to get to Elysium. “Luke Castellan,” Minos read my name. “You are charged with… starting a war against the gods?” he read in disbelief. “Why were you not immediately sentenced to the Fields of Punishment?” If I still had a heart it’d be in my feet right now. I couldn’t go to the Fields of Punishment. “You should have cut your losses and taken the express line to the Fields of Asphodel.”

“Keep reading,” Rhadamanthus said, not even looking up from the papers.

Minos rolled his eyes but kept going. “Oh, you sacrificed yourself, killing Kronos and saving Olympus and all of humanity. Hmm. Well, you did still start a war with the gods.”

Aeacus leaned over. “Minos, this really is more of a formality than anything. All the gods have already given him a pass.”

Minos huffed. “Fine,” he picked up a gold gavel, “Elysium!” he declared.

Before I could even thank him I was transported into what looked like the Apollo cabin. It was strange, I knew this was supposed to be the Apollo cabin but it didn’t have all the bunks. It looked like a normal house but something about it felt so familiar. I looked around, realizing I was standing in the living room. This must be Y/N’s house, it even smelled like her. Decorating the walls were pictures of her and her friends and siblings. But on the mantle and side tables were pictures of us. I picked one up, noticing the fingerprint markings all over it. She must pick it up a lot.

Looking around, I found glass French doors in the kitchen that led outside. The view was breathtaking. Mountains rose up on either side of the bluest lake I had ever seen. I went outside, intending to enjoy the view. As I stepped outside I could smell fresh air and feel a perfect breeze. “Hey stranger,” a voice came from beside me. I turned, immediately letting out a choked sob as I saw her sitting there. She stood, coming to me and I immediately snatched her into my arms. She shushed me, stroking my back as I sobbed in her shoulder. “You came way earlier than I wanted but I’m glad to see you.”

I pulled away so I could see her face. The blood, sweat, and tears were gone. It was just her beautiful, perfect face. “You’re actually here,” I said, reaching a hand up to her face. I was terrified she’d disappear again just like she did when Kronos showed her to me in my dreams.

“I’m here. And so are you,” she smiled. “We’ll be immortal and without pain forever,” she swore.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Luke.”

~

Decades later we were opening our door to see Percy and Annabeth standing there. “Y/N!” Annabeth cried, jumping into my wife’s arms.

“Hey Annabeth!” she laughed, clutching the woman in a hug.

I looked over to Percy, finding him with smile lines and salt and pepper hair. “Hey cuz,” I smiled, extending my hand. Percy shook it and pulled me into a hug which I returned. I patted him on the back as I pulled away. “You know you can look any age you want here? You don’t have to be an old man.”

“I’m not an old man,” he insisted. “I was 80. Just anything older than 16 year old me looks old to you.”

I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. I turned to Annabeth, giving her a hug too.

Y/N took Percy’s hand. “Percy, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Everyone from camp whose already here has said great things.”

He smiled at her. “I’ve heard the same about you,” he returned, glancing at me. “Well we brought blue cake for dessert.”

Masterlist

A/N Omg this is quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written. But it also has one of my favorite endings. Thanks for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it

[cryingprincess13]

So, you know this awkward moment when your hyperfixation ends and you realize that media was kinda actually bad? For me it was season 2 of Arcane.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love this show, it gave me an unforgettable emotions and, like, one of the longest hyper-fixations. But now, when I look back, it's just... so weird.

Season 2 sucked and it needs to be pointed out. If the first season was as close to reality as possible, giving us relatable characters in a kind of unreal world where you could understand everyone, even if they were a terrible drug lord, the second season gave us Marvel-esque reunion of every single character fighting one big evil with “friendship is magic” kind of end. They also added so much of unnecessary stuff??

-the prison caitvi sex

- episode 7

-black rose stuff without adding proper explanation

- Zaun trio backstory (which is once again just makes their timeline and episode 3 of s1 even more weird.)

Etc. etc. all of it was clearly a fan service, I’m sorry. Like, I did liked all of it, but if you gave me the choice between having all of em couple reunions and actually good written and placed season at the same level as the first one? My choice will be clear.

Season 1 was weaved and paced very well with its plot and characters. In season 2, they turn most characters into complete idiots for the sake of sprinting through the plot. The plot itself is paced in what can probably be described as “wonky” at best. It’s not good. There are far too many plot holes that just aren’t addressed. They completely forgot about the actual plot of the story (Zaun/Pilties conflict) and apparently made it just angst part for caitvi??? Don’t even get me started on how fucked up Vi was in this season. Like you made her a fighter whose whole world now is around her girlfriend and/or sister happiness and then, when one of them going to end herself she just makes out in a prison cell??? Like in the place where she supposed to have some kind of ptsd and where her sister was literally a hour ago? They made her enforcer like in game but never actually gave us how she came to it.

Viktor? Lmao now he’s a Jesus. Like for what you changed the perfect concept of actual machine herald?

Same with Jinx. She was so inconsistent this season. Here’s she depressed, oh here she’s manic again, hey, look, here’s a child who somehow gonna make her as sane as she could be, we gonna kill her of course and never mention her again AT ALL. As a psychology student, no child in the word could possibly made season 1 Jinx or Jinx at all sane. Even in depression state. Isha was so clearly made to be a plot device it’s actually hurts.

They also got a little too indulgent with the music videos this time as well. Zaun revolution? Jinx trying to off herself and literally burning last drop down? They could make it so deep of an episode but here we are again with the mv. Every plot important line was given just as a music video. Was fun the first two times, now give me actual conversations please.

The ending? Did I mention marvel already? Also the (not)killing off Jinx was such a stupid decision. Warwick can heal himself, they know it clearly but apparently Jinx just need to sacrifice herself and then Vander just gone at all lmao.

It's not just the pacing and the amount of new plots that make season 2 bad. It was confirmed that a lot of the writers from season 1 didn't work on season 2 and it shows. And you know what? I can tell.

[raven-dor]

let me back in

in which scorpius malfoy is utterly confused why his lover won’t speak to him

PAIRING: scorpius malfoy x slytherin!reader, scorpius malfoy x reader

WARNINGS: slight fluff, blood purist beliefs, angst, mentions of moldy voldy

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

🎶 : mess it up - gracie abrams

“Y/L/N.” 

“Scorpius.” You smiled. “I thought we were past the point in our relationship where we address each other by last name.” 

He smiled back, kissing your temple gently. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Fine. Better now that you’re here.” 

“Get a room, I beg of you.” 

The couple laughed, turning around the see their best friend. “Albus, just because your girlfriend won’t speak to you, doesn’t mean you can take your anger out on us.” 

You nodded, sticking out your tongue. “Yeah, Potter.” 

“You two make me sick.” He scoffed. “What shall we do today?” 

“We?” You asked. “I have class.” 

Albus rolled his eyes. “I still don’t understand how you take so many classes. Advanced Ancient Runes and History of Magic are at the same time.” 

You wiggled your eyebrows. “A magician never reveals their secrets, dear padawan.” 

Scorpius tilted his head. “Padawan?” 

“Oh, my love…” You patted his arm condescendingly. “I need to educate you on arguably the best muggle film franchise of all time.” 

Albus laughed. “Wrong. The best is Lord of the Rings.” 

“As much as I would love to continue this debate-” You kissed Scorpius’s cheek quickly, turning down the following corridor. “I have to go.” A hand grabbed your wrist, and you sighed. “Scor- Mmph!” 

His lips slammed against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Salazar, again?” 

You smiled, pulling your lips from his just barely so you could respond. “Like my lovely boyfriend said earlier, just because you’re-” Scorpius kissed you again, and even though it pained you to stop, you would be late to class if you stayed any longer. “You have to stop interrupting me when I start to reach a valid point.” 

“But you’re just so stunning, how can I not-” This time, you caught him by surprise, kissing him before he could finish his sentence. He laughed, nudging his nose against yours gently. “Message received.” 

You walked away, waving goodbye. “See you later, love.” 

Thanks to your ravenous boyfriend, you were now late for class. You stalked down the corridor, paying no attention to your surroundings. Unbuttoning the top buttons on your shirt, you pulled the time turner out from beneath, twisting it to take you back a couple of hours, back to when Advanced Ancient Runes began. 

“Watch out- Merlin!” 

Before you’d realized what happened, you flew forward, books flinging out of your arms and across the hall. “Shit, I’m sorry I was-” You pushed away the student that was trying to help you, the glint of the time turner catching your eye. They welled with tears, if the turns were even slightly off, you would be thrown into a completely different time, or, Salazar forbid, place. Grabbing it from the ground, you fumbled with the circles, desperately trying to fix what had been done, but it was too late. 

Your surroundings were starting to change before your eyes. The Headmistress had warned you, she’d warned you that this could have consequences- You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping the fall hadn’t altered the time jump to the point that it became irreversible. 

The hall looked the same at first glance: same walls, same distress marks from generations of students walking in the same place. You knew the student you tripped over wouldn’t be there, but you hadn’t expected the world to seem so… dark. The sky was grey, void of all the cheer and warmth your Hogwarts constantly had. 

“Is there a reason you are not in class?” 

That drawl. You turned around, Snape staring at you with his usual dead gaze.

In a sense, you felt relieved. You’d never loved your Head of House, but seeing a familiar face let a small flicker of hope creep into your heart. “Professor, I need to see the Headmistress immediately.” 

He crossed his arms. “Do you think you amuse me?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” He hissed.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Even in this timeline, Snape was the same uptight buzzkill. “Alright then. May I see Professor McGonagall?” 

“Professor McGonagall is no longer teaching at Hogwarts.” His eyes narrowed, glancing down at your hand, the chain of your time turner dangling. “What have you-” 

You pushed past him, running down the corridor, trying to find any familiar face that could help you. “Scorpius? Albus? Professor-” 

“Scorpius.” There your boyfriend stood, in all his glory. His hair was slick, compared to its usual volume and life. His face looked solemn, and his eyes- you frowned.

This was not your Scorpius.

“Love-” He made no point to respond, instead, he glared, gripping his wand tightly.

“How dare you speak to me that way? You- you filthy mud-.” 

“Scorpius.” Your heart broke, that phrase confirming how dark a timeline you’d traveled to. Scorpius would never have said that. Salazar, he'd never have even thought it. “It’s me-” 

“Y/L/N, I don’t know if you’ve acquired a concussion, but you and I are not, nor have we ever been lovers.” He stepped closer, holding his wand up. “You have two seconds to get out of my sight before I change my mind and curse you.” 

“Just wait one moment. Where’s Albus?” Stalling could be your friend. You hoped it would be your friend. Even if you and Scorpius weren’t together, there was no doubt in your mind that he and Albus had not bonded in this universe too. 

Your hopes were once again crushed. His once beautiful grey eyes grew dark, dangerous in a way you didn’t trust. “How dare you!” 

You drew your wand from the pocket of your robe, gripping McGonagall's time turner tightly in the other hand. “Where is he?” 

His voice held more venom than you’d ever thought he could possess. “Potter is dead. Good riddance, I say. He was a blood traitor and a-” 

“I dare you to say that again.” You hissed, throwing out any sense of restraint you’d held before. This is what Professor Potter had trained you for; you’d just never thought you’d use his lessons on your alternate-timeline boyfriend. “You know your father would never allow this. Stop this blood purity nonsense-” 

“I should just call him now, see what should be done with you.” 

“He?” A chill ran down your spine. Surely he hadn't-

Scorpius was closer now, close enough that you could smell his cologne. It had at a time, brought you comfort. Now, it drove fear through your veins. “Scared? He’ll want to meet the last mudblood-” 

“Petrificus Totalus.” His eyes widened while his body went stiff. He stilled for a moment, before you pushed him back, falling to the ground with a thud. Looming over him, wand still firmly grasped in hand, you prepared yourself to see what you knew was branded on him. You crouched down, grabbing his arm and shoving his sleeve up to confirm the truth you knew - your lovely boy was a Death Eater, the very thing out to kill you. 

You stood up so fast your head began to spin. Your palm shook as you tried to fix what brought you here in the first place. You had no idea what or who would round the corner, permanently taking away your ability to leave. Twisting the outer ring once forward, the middle ring twice backward, and the inner ring forward twice, you squeezed your eyes shut once again, hoping that when you opened them, you could get rid of this time turner and find some peace. 

“Y/N?” You knew that voice. Clutching your wand, you took a step back, glaring at the boy in front of you. “Just- get back.” 

“What?” Scorpius tilted his head. “Has something hap-” 

“I said get back!” You raised your wand, and Scorpius raised his hands in surrender. 

“Love?” He looked equal parts worried and concerned. “You’re scaring m-” 

You whipped around, sprinting down the hall that led to the Headmistress’s office. Yelling out the password, you walked up the stairs, slamming the time turner on McGonagall’s desk. The older witch looked up from her work, raising an eyebrow. “What is the reason for this-” Her gaze softened when she realized you were on the verge of tears. “Take a seat.” 

You shook your head. “There’s no need, Headmistress. I can’t use this any longer. It’s- I’ve-”

McGonagall raised her hand. “No explanation is necessary. You’re a bright student, I’m certain your professors will be more than happy to accommodate you.” 

“Thank you.” 

She nodded, gesturing to a tin of biscuits that sat open at the front of her desk. “Take a biscuit.”

“I-”

“Take a biscuit. Calms the nerves.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You smiled, grabbing the nearest chocolate biscuit.

The Headmistress continued. “I will tell your professors that you spent the day assisting me with next year’s prefect selections, and therefore could not make it to class.” 

“There’s really no need-” 

“Take the favor, my dear.” She interrupted, shooing you away. “Now go on.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Albus stared at his best friend, who was lying face-first on his pillows. He laughed, sitting down on his bed. “Has Y/N stopped talking to you as well?” 

Scorpius peeked out from the pillow, nodding once. Albus’s smile dropped. “Actually?” 

Scorpius rolled over, face void of emotion. “Told me to go away.” 

“What have you done?” 

“Nothing!” He yelled. “That I can think of.” 

“Want me to see what’s the matter?” 

The blonde sat up, smiling eagerly. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Salazar, I was bloody joking-” Scorpius looked dejected. “But if you want…” 

Albus groaned as he knocked on the 7th year prefect dorms. How’d Scorpius convince him to do this, to get directly in the middle of their spat? “Y/N? It’s Albus.” 

 “Come in.” 

He pushed the door open, sighing at the sight before him. “Are you alright?” 

You nodded. “Fine.” 

He crossed his arms. “Really?” 

You sighed. “He’s told you?” 

“Hasn’t told me much, considering you haven’t told him much.” He stepped forward, speaking gently. “What did he do?” 

“Just-” You sighed. “Promise me you’ll look after him.” 

“I will, but can you-” 

“Albus…” Your heart was breaking. “I can’t tell you, it’s confidential.” 

He nodded, your statement confirming what he’d already known: you had access to a time-turner, and something had gone wrong, wrong enough for you to break up with your loving boyfriend. “I’ll take care of him, but I can’t promise that he won’t ask questions.” He stepped forward, grabbing your hands in his. “He’s worried sick about you.” 

Your eyes welled with tears. “He’ll forget- the House Cup is coming up soon.” You stood up, tidying your room as you spoke, realizing you had a guest. “Co-Captain is a big role, he’ll be focused on that.” 

Albus laughed, standing up to help you clean. “That’s what I’m concerned about. As the second Co-Captain, I need my team focused, and I don’t exactly think he will be when his-” He stopped, sighing. “I think this could all be solved if you just talked to him.” 

“I need time. Please.” 

Albus nodded. “I’ll relay the message.” 

It’d been weeks since you’d seen him, avoiding all the places you’d once sought out. He was always in the library, the Slytherin common room, the quidditch pitch. You’d gone out of your way to eat meals on the opposite side of the table, staring at the ground so you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Layla Goldstein, your closest friend outside of Slytherin, saw how miserable you were cooped up in your dorm every night, and began to invite you to the Ravenclaw common room. It was the perfect space for studying, which made sense, considering Ravenclaw’s reputation.

You and Layla had always been close, sitting next to each other on the train to Hogwarts before you’d even been sorted. She was a perfect shoulder to cry on, or ignore your problems, much like you were doing now. She’d never explicitly asked you what’d happened, but you’d told her anyway.

She groaned, slamming her head playfully against her textbook. “Shall we take a break?”

You grinned, nodding energetically. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Standing up, she stretched, tossing out ideas for a change of scenery. “How about the Great Hall?” 

You shook your head. “The kitchens are much quieter. Easier to take your mind off school when you can’t see anyone you know.”

Layla laughed, following after you. “And how do you know the way into the kitchens?” 

You hooked your arm through hers, whispering. “Let’s just say James Potter is a horrible influence.” 

“Of course it was James.” 

You turned around, wiggling your eyebrows. “Something you want to say?” 

She scoffed, shoving you playfully. “Bugger off. Can I not make an observation?”

“Of course you can. But don’t expect me to sit quietly.” You stopped in front of the tapestry, tickling the pear, and pushing on the wall until it opened. “You’ll love it. The house elves are so sweet, they’re actually-” 

Your breath felt as if it was knocked out of you. There he was, as beautiful as ever. You’d thought he was a figment of your imagination, something you’d conjured up in a fit of delusion. This wasn’t the first time it would have happened since you’d stopped seeing each other; just a glimpse of blonde hair had your heart skip. It was never him of course, and then you would have to remind yourself Scorpius wasn’t here. 

“Darling.” His familiar cologne filled your senses. 

“Scorpius.” You responded quietly. 

 Layla leaned forward, whispering in your ear. “Should we-” 

You nodded. “The Great Hall is sounding better now. Besides-”

“I miss you.” His eyes were watering, hands itching to reach out and hold yours. “Can we talk?” 

You felt like you were on fire the way he was holding your gaze. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.” 

“Well that’s not true, is it, love?” He took a step forward, and you instinctively reacted by stepping back, furthering yourself from him. He sighed, obviously upset with how everything had ended. You couldn’t blame him, you’d given him no context as to why you wanted a break. “Like that for example. You’ve never done that-” 

Layla clapped her hands, breaking your gaze. “It seems as if you two need to talk.” 

“No!” You shook your head. “Let’s just go back, I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Y/N-” 

You whipped around, following after Layla without sparing him a second glance.

“Do you still love him?” 

“As if I could ever stop.” You frowned, hugging yourself. “But whenever I think I’m over it, I see him and it all comes rushing back-” 

“You don’t have to explain.” Layla smiled, hugging you quickly. “But let me ask you one thing. Would you rather lose the love of your life, or tell him what happened and work through it together?” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Have I told you how much I hate when you’re right?”

“I wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw for my courage, now was I?”  

“I know this class might seem lecture-heavy, but it’s vital we learn this so that it is never repeated again. Understood?” The class nodded, and Professor Potter smiled. “Good. Now, can anyone tell me the definition of blood prejudice?” 

A few hands shot up, namely Rose Granger-Weasley, yours, and Layla’s. Potter called on his niece. “Ms. Granger-Weasley.” 

“Blood prejudice is a form of discrimination, stemming from the categorization of magical bloodlines.” 

He nodded. “Good, good. Can anyone name the three categories commonly associated with this term?” 

Layla’s hand shot up. “Pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns.” 

“Very good. Now, this question is a little harder, so don’t feel bad if you can’t answer.” You and Rose laughed, preparing to raise your hands regardless. “What was the cause behind the Second Wizarding War?” Both of your hands shot up, and the class laughed. 

Professor Potter stopped for a second, before calling on you. “Y/L/N.” 

“The Second Wizarding War was a result of the First Wizarding War. After Voldemort had been killed, most thought that peace would reign. But after a decade of hiding Death Eaters and followers had let their hate fester, a new resurgence of blood purity sprang. Its belief system reached a new height in 1996, with the death of Albus Dumbledore, and Hogwarts being overtaken by Voldemort’s most loyal supporters.” 

Professor Potter grinned, clapping proudly. “Very well put-” 

“What a load of nonsense.” A Ravenclaw boy muttered somewhere behind you. 

“What was that?” 

Oh, Merlin.

Scorpius was glaring at the boy, the entire class watching with anticipation. Under Scorpius’s gaze, the boy shrank, murmuring some sort of apology. Scorpius persisted, raising his voice. “Say that again.” 

“Mr.Malfoy-” 

Albus whispered in his friend’s ear, but Scorpius ignored him, standing up. “Do you disagree?” 

The boy straightened his posture, his hand itching toward his wand. “I do.” 

“Oh?” Scorpius looked daunting, his eyes dark, face void of all its usual light. “Do tell.” 

“Scorpius…” Professor Potter spoke. “Sit down. Mr. Avery will be dealt with.” 

Scorpius ignored him. “I want to hear you say why you disagree. I’m sure it’s extremely incorrect, but I want to-” 

“Scorpius.” You hissed, his eyes instantly finding yours. “Sit down.” 

He looked positively shocked, sitting down without another word. Avery must have felt quite full of himself again, because he began to taunt Scorpius, hissing when Potter couldn’t hear. “Look at that, Malfoy. Can’t even stand up for Y/L/N properly. No wonder your father- OW!���

The class quieted, staring at the boy once again. Professor Potter sighed. “What is it now, Mr. Avery?” 

“Someone cursed me!” 

Potter was visibly fighting the urge to laugh. “Who would have cursed you, Mr. Avery?” 

“I don’t know, anyone!” 

Potter looked out at the class. “Does anyone have something to admit to?” No one spoke. “No?” 

You smirked, putting your wand back in your sleeve. He nodded. “Very well. Mr. Avery, please stay after class.” 

Your juvenile peers began to tease him, poking fun at his inevitable detention. All you could do was stare at the front of the class, frozen. Scorpius was staring at you and had been since you’d told him to sit. 

“Y/N.” 

You turned around, smiling lightly. “James. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Can I not say hello to my favorite Slytherin?” 

“I’m going to have to tell Albus you said that.” 

He laughed, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “He knows he’s my favorite.” 

“As much as I enjoy your company, I have a feeling you have an ulterior moment.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“No reason.” You laughed. “Do you know Layla Goldstein?” James’s cheeks grew red, and you nodded. “Thought you might.” 

“Has she said something about me?” 

You grinned. “Why?” 

“I-” He groaned, realizing you had been teasing him. “You know.” 

“Of course I know, she’s my best friend.” 

“Which is why I wanted to ask a favor.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Can you-” 

“Y/N!” 

James rolled his eyes, nudging her lightly. “My, you are popular.” 

You laughed, turning around. “I’ve been- Scorpius.” He was bouncing nervously, still smiling just as brightly as ever. 

James coughed. “I’ll uh, ask you later then.”

Your eyes widened. “James, you can-” 

“Too late, I’m halfway down the corridor.” 

You clenched your fists, sighing as you faced Scorpius once more. He inched forward until you were a breath apart. His cologne pulled you in, regardless of the mixed feelings you had - when he’d trap you in his arms, kissing you senseless until you were weak in the knees.

More recently, when he threatened to call Voldemort. 

“I have to-” 

“I need to know what happened.” His smile had fallen. “If you don’t want to-” His voice grew quiet. “If you don’t want to be with me I can accept it. I just need to know why. Please.” 

“If I tell you…” You whispered. “You can’t tell anyone else.” 

“Alright.” 

“Not even Albus.” 

“I-” Your face was serious, the most serious he’d ever seen. “I swear.” 

You nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him down a hidden alley. If everything was fine between you, he would have made a comment about you being forward, now he just watched in silence. You stopped, letting go of his hand immediately. “He was right.” 

“Who?”

“Albus.” 

“About?” 

“You know how I’ve been taking Advanced Ancient Runes and History of Magic?” He nodded. “They’re at the same time, and well… McGonagall gave me her time-turner. I tripped after you- well you distracted me and I twisted the last ring wrong, and was sent to an alternate reality.” 

His eyes tripled in size. “I’m sorry?” 

“You should be.” You murmured. “I told you, kissing me like that-” You smiled at his pink cheeks, remembering what your original purpose had been. “Anyways, the air was cold and gloomy. The warmth was… gone.” You shivered. “And then I saw Snape and he wasn’t any help- And I ran away, calling out for someone, when I saw you. But it wasn’t- it wasn’t you, exactly. You were cold, calling me a- You called me a mudblood, alluded to the fact that you killed Albus, and then tried calling Voldemort on me.” You huffed, flailing your arms. “There, now you know every-”

“Oh, darling.” He looked concerned more than satisfied. “I can’t believe you have access to a time-turner.” 

You scoffed. “That’s what you focused on?” 

“Of course not, but…” He took a deep breath. “We can work around that. I understand now, why you needed time that is. And I’m sorry that you went through that alone, that I didn’t corner you sooner.”

You laughed. “I chose to go through this alone, don’t blame yourself.” Taking a step forward, you reached out for his hands, holding them in yours. “You know, it’s just like you to apologize for something you didn’t do. You’re perfect, my love.”

“That’s all you, I’m afraid.” He squeezed your hands gently, taking a step back. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“That’s it?” You teased him. “You’re just going to walk away?” 

He sauntered over, his eyes twinkling with that look that’d gotten you into this situation. “Do you want something else to happen?” 

“Dunno.” You shrugged, resisting the urge to sprint into his arms. “I suppose finally telling you has lifted the spell I was under.” 

“Oh?” He laughed. “Even if it didn’t work, I’ll be here, waiting until it does.”

Your heart felt full. “Salazar, you are perfect.” 

“Say that again, please.” 

You grabbed his hands once more, pulling him closer. “You’re perfect.” Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” 

You walked away, knowing that he’d follow after you, that was the fun after all. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, and you smiled. “Finally caught up did you?” His hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around until you were face to face. 

“I love you too.” 

“Good.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, have I mentioned you’re perfect?” 

He shook his head, lips itching to kiss yours. “Not recently, I don’t think it would hurt to hear it.” 

“Ah. Well in that case- mmph!” Your eyes fluttered shut, falling into his kiss. 

“Sorry.” He pulled away, grinning boyishly. “I’ll stop interrupting you someday.” 

“As long as you interrupt me like that-” You kissed him lightly. “You have my full permission.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

[shedoessoshedoes]

Never Let Me Go

Merry Christmas, @inkedinshadows! I hope you enjoy part one of your gift, and I hope the angst is good for you. Personally, I am OBSESSED with how much comfort we have in this fic, too! So grateful that @acotargiftexchange put all of this together 🥰 You can read chapter one under the cut or on ao3.

wc: ~2500

cw: none!

It was still dark when Elain woke up. She had–an itch, or something like it. She swatted her hand back at her shoulder, and when it made contact with a face, Azriel smiled into her skin. Oh. She rolled over into him, sighing happily when his kisses travelled up her neck and to her lips. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her deeply again. “I love you.” 

Elain giggled, breaking the kiss until it was just their two smiles pressed against each other, laughter slipping out between them. 

“I love you,” he said for a second time, climbing on top of her to press her further into the bed. “Do you know that? That I love you?” 

“No,” Elain whispered, playing into his joke. “Tell me again. Tell me until you are sick of it.” 

“Ah, but there’s your mistake. I could never be sick of it.” Azriel’s legs were straddling Elain’s by then, his wings stretching over them, his hands clasping her face as he kissed her over and over and over, whispering his venerations as he went. Elain’s hands fell over his own, rubbing aimlessly at the band on his ring finger. 

“Don’t you need to leave?” Elain asked, peeking over his wing to see the sky turning the barest shade of grey, dawn just beginning to break. 

Azriel hummed, tilting her chin back towards him to bury her in more kisses. “Not now. Not when you’re here.” 

She shoved him off of her then, and he flopped dramatically onto his back, hand splayed across his forehead like some sort of damsel in distress. One of his wings came to lie on top of her, and Elain revelled in the last bits of his warmth. 

“And this is the treatment I get from my wife?” he complained, eyes squeezing shut. “She refuses to let me waste the day away in bed with her? Forces me away from her? Requires me to work?” 

“Oh, hush,” Elain replied, pushing his wing back at him and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to reach for the tea that they spelled to keep warm all night on the bedside table. “You’ve put this mission off for weeks and now you’re upset you have to go right before Solstice.” 

Azriel lolled his head to the side as he watched Elain make their tea. “Forgive me, Lain, if your company is more exciting than the Illyrian warlords’.” 

“Well then,” she said, handing him a teacup and leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You just must hurry back to me. I have quite a good present for you this year.” 

Azriel pouted for another moment, and then heaved himself up off of the bed. “I suppose one of your gifts could be incentive enough to freeze all week.”

She hummed, moving to her dressing table and leaning back into Azriel when he leaned down to wrap his arms around her. “And just think, it’s not only gifts from me you’re coming back to. We’re making dinner, and everyone will be here, and we can celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and think about that time two years ago when–” 

Azriel cut her off with a snarl. “When I made a complete ass of myself and almost lost you forever? Yes, Elain, I’ll be sure to think of that when I’m cold and lonely and wishing that I was home with you.” 

She patted his cheek. “I’m kidding. Besides, I like your second piece of jewelry even more than the first one.” 

His eyes caught on her wedding ring in the mirror, and Elain watched him pull himself out of his pool of lust and into his role as a Shadowsinger, watched him prepare to leave for a week instead of tumble back into bed with her. “Good,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “That one never had all the shame attached to it, anyways.” 

“Or the big, bad, scary High-Lord-orders,” she joked, and Azriel’s face turned bright red. Elain got up to spin away from him before he could catch her and punish her for her teasing. “Go. Get ready. I’ll be in the kitchen when you want to come eat and say goodbye.” 

She could hear him grumbling all the way down to the kitchen about “Blood-sworn to this court since I was fucking eighteen years old, Elain,” and she smiled as she set about making herself breakfast. Blood-sworn since he was eighteen years old, indeed, and yet her husband had defied all of it for her. 

Two weeks after Nyx had been born, Elain had wandered into the townhouse in search of a respite from Rhysand’s hovering and–she hated to admit it–Nyx’s cries. She’d found Azriel drunk out of his mind, and he wouldn’t stop muttering about mating bonds and necklaces and headache powder and blood duels until she had hauled him to bed. When she woke up the next morning to check on her garden, she opened the door to Azriel, mouth agape and hand raised as though he had been about to knock. He tried to apologize for the night before, but Elain had started arguing with him before he had even had a chance. She’d told him about the falseness of her bond with Lucien, had explained that what she felt for Azriel had come so naturally that when she felt the tugging towards him she went easily. She’d told him that she assumed he felt the same. She’d told him about her awful thought process on Solstice: that she was cursed to find false bonds over and over, to be rejected again and again–to relive her engagement to Graysen again and again–and to never be able to See any of it in advance. He’d fallen to his knees at that, burying his head into her stomach, tears soaking through her dress. He’d explained everything: Rhys’s orders, what he’d done with her necklace, the draw he’d felt towards her since that first day at Archeron manor. The love he’d felt for her since then. 

They’d both cried, then, mourning all the time they had lost, wrapped in each other in the early morning light. Eventually, Azriel pulled his head out of Elain’s shoulder, pressed two kisses to her forehead, and said, in a voice no louder than a whisper, “You’re my mate. I love you.” His words made Elain cry even harder, and she’d not been able to sob out an “I love you,” in return, choosing instead to pull him down for a kiss. He’d come easily, and before they knew it, they were on the floor, so completely tangled up in each other that Elain didn’t know if they’d ever be able to separate themselves again. Later, she’d fed him half of a scone (because he was too impatient to finish the other half), and he’d laughed in exaltation at the feeling of that true bridge between them completing itself. Elain gasped as the string tying her to Lucien fell away, and no one saw Elain or Azriel for a month after that. 

They’d been officially married for six months now, although they’d been calling each other husband and wife since those first weeks together. It had been something that Elain had thought about–secretly–while she pined over him. While their mating bond was powerful, and had perhaps played a part in their initial attraction to each other, she had fallen in love with her husband in spite of it–after all, she had believed she had a different mate for the first few years of her fae life. Azriel enjoyed the titles, too. No one had ever put him first–no one ever chose him–and when Elain called him her husband, the world knew that she had picked him. The Mother hadn’t simply thrown them together because of their equity. They had chosen each other because they knew how well they fit. 

Elain was drawn out of her reverie by one of Azriel’s shadows preceding him to the kitchen, and she smiled as it twirled its way around her ankles like a cat. She turned to face him, pressing a mug of coffee into his hand as she leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He smelled like soap and himself and her, and Elain took another deep breath before stepping away. 

He sat down at the counter and watched as she finished making breakfast, the quiet settling over them. She put his plate down in front of him and he pulled her into his lap while he ate. Elain had learned that Azriel became especially clingy when he had to leave her, and she traced the scars on his hand soothingly while he ate with his other one. 

When he was finished, he washed his dish and put it away, and came over to her again. He pressed kisses to her hair and then to her temple, pulling her along through the house as he gathered what he needed to go. They stood by the door, and Azriel held out his hand expectantly. Elain huffed a smile and dropped a bundle of sage, thyme, and lavender into his hand, collected from her garden and grown with the intention of protecting him. 

“You’ll be just fine.” she told him, reassuring herself as much as she was him. “You’ve done this for nearly six hundred years. You’ll be just fine, and I will see you in a week, and I love you more than you will ever, ever know.” 

He smiled faintly, his jaw working as he turned to look out the front door. “I just hate not being with you.” 

“I know,” she said lightly, twisting her fingers through his own. “I miss you, too.” 

He sighed, then, seeming to resign himself to his fate, nodded once before turning to face her. He dipped down to kiss her once, twice, three times, and then straightened back up. 

“Make the Illyrians very scared of you,” Elain said. “Just because you have a wife doesn’t mean you’re soft. I’m an Archeron too, you know.” 

“They’re terrified of your herbs,” he responded. “They think it’s witchcraft.” 

At this, Elain shrugged, since it was, technically, witchcraft, and he looked down at her intently. 

“They’re also terrified of your reputation, Lady Shadowsinger.” 

Elain shrugged again. She and Azriel had quickly realized that they made a formidable interrogation team, her plants torturing in ways Truthteller could not, and her visions helping to identify the masterminds behind plots and treason. “Then they should know to be afraid of you, too.” 

He laughed faintly, his shadows dancing anxiously around him. Elain pulled him down for one last kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With that, he pulled back, starting for the door. “I’ll be back in a week,” he said, seeming to remind himself as much as her. “And you’ll be here.” 

“And I’ll be here,” she agreed, opening the door for him. He took one last look at her and then was gone, kicking up into the sky. Elain shivered in the winter air and turned to head back inside, steeling herself for the week ahead. 

The days slipped by easily. Elain visited her sisters, tended to her greenhouses, prepared for the Solstice celebrations, and thought about Azriel. When Solstice Eve finally came, she could hardly contain the nervous energy that surrounded her husband’s return. She busied herself in the kitchen of the townhouse, preparing for her family’s arrival and greeting them one by one: Nesta and Cassian, who arrived first in a blur of leathers and banter, and Feyre and Rhys, who had left a sick Nyx at home and seemed content to laze about in the living room. 

Nesta sat in the kitchen with Elain and read while Elain cooked, and they laughed at what they could hear from their family in the living room. Eventually, Rhys made his way into the kitchen too, asking if there was anything he could do to help. Elain scoffed. “As though you could do anything to help with this meal that wouldn’t result in the house on fire.” 

He held his hands up. “I’m also happy to set the table or rearrange decorations or taste test.” 

Elain laughed, whirling around to check the bread, grabbing a towel to protect her hand as she bent over and pulled it out of the oven, dropping it on top of the stove before flitting over to return to work on her cookies, Rhysand watching in amusement. She picked up her frosting and immediately doubled over, vision whiting out as she dropped to her hands and knees. In the distance, she could hear Rhys shouting her name, could hear Feyre running into the kitchen, could feel Nesta dropping to the floor and grasping Elain’s hands with her own. It all faded away as the vision came into view, crowding out all of her other senses. 

Azriel faded into view, soaring over the Illyrian mountains. His wings stretched nearly past what Elain could see, and even through the haze of the vision, Elain felt her breath catch at just how stunning he looked. He adjusted his wings, and she could tell that he was getting ready to pull himself through his shadows to step back into Velaris’s skies. Before he could, Elain saw something flying towards him out of the corner of her eye, and she shrieked as she watched another Illyrian barrel into him and stab at Azriel’s side. His eyes went wide, and Elain watched in horror as the two males fell out of the sky. She reached out to try and reach them, and was snapped out of the vision when her hand twisted into the soft fabric of Nesta’s dress instead of the hard leather of Azriel’s armor. 

She looked up at Nesta in horror, opening her mouth to try to speak. Nothing came out. Feyre knelt down next to the two of them, pulling Elain into her side, Nesta still grasping at her hands. Tears started tracking down Elain’s face, and Feyre tapped incredibly lightly into her mind. 

Can I see? she asked, voice as tender as the one she used with Nyx. 

Elain couldn’t bring herself to speak, and was barely able to relive the memory of her vision while Feyre watched. 

Do you think it’s from today? Feyre asked quietly. As Elain’s powers developed they had learned that she could See the past, present, and future, and that it was sometimes difficult to discern what–and when–her visions were depicting. 

Elain just shook her head. I don’t know. He has his ring on, but he goes to the mountains so frequently that–that I don’t know when this one would be.

When Feyre gently pulled away, Elain’s tears became sobs. She curled into Nesta’s arms as Feyre got up. 

“Where–exactly–did you send Azriel today?” Feyre asked Rhys, slipping into the High Lady version of  herself. 

Cassian cut in before Rhys could. “To check in with some of our informants in the more remote Illyrian camps. Why?”  Elain choked out an answer before Feyre could explain. “Because he’s gone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[lure-of-writing]

Why can't we?

Authors Note: Oh My gosh guys, the love on part two was insane, truly thank you so much. It makes me so happy seeing all the comments and reposts it means the most to me. Part three is officially here and I am so excited for you to read it and I can't wait to see what you guys think about it. Without giving the ending away I would love to hear what you guys think about an alternative ending? Anyways if you have any request or ideas please send them in and again thank you all so much!

Summary: After leaving the night court you begin to find your place in your new life, that is until the night court comes to be directly in your home.

Word count: 4.0k

Warnings: Angst, arguing, (Let me know if I forgot any!)

Part one: Never been good enough

Part Two: Left in regret

Thesan was waiting for your arrival with the captain of the peregryn army in the common area of his home. They had been waiting no more for ten minutes until they heard the thundering of wings and watched as Kolos landed with you in his arms.

Kolos was second in command under his captain and a lifelong friend of yours. Having been raised alongside him you knew he would never pass judgment upon you and also provide the support you would undoubtedly need in the following weeks as you figured out how to put your life back together. You were born into the dawn court but had chosen to leave with the idea of being able to be used to your full potential as a spy and you did in fact find that in the night court but you had also never regretted a decision as much as you also loved the people you met and memories you made from that said decision. 

“Y/n welcome back home to the dawn court, we have missed you sincerely.” Thesan the living embodiment of calm energy welcomed you with open arms and a warm hug. “I assume all went well?” you could tell that the question was directed at Kolos “Yes they didn’t try to stop us but I think y/n has something very important to tell the two of you.” Without another word Thesan took a seat in a chair and motioned for everyone to do the same. “Azriel…Azriel is my mate.”  you watched with a baited breath for anyone to say anything and for a while no one did that was until your high lord spoke up. “And how do you feel about that?” 

“Well considering that he's in love with Elain, not very great. But I am not going to force either of us to be in a relationship that the other does not want. He was only apologetic because we are mates. If we weren’t he would have never chosen me.” In the week that you had been residing back in your home court you had kept all this information to yourself, unwilling or maybe even unable to accept the cards you had been dealt but to finally tell someone other the Kolos felt like lifting a weight off your chest. Like it was a start in the right direction to leaving the past and starting anew. 

“This is certainly unexpected information.” the captain spoke up “Yeah you’re telling me.” a breathy laugh fell from your lips as you glanced at your high lord waiting to see what he had to say. “I guess that means I can expect letters from Rhysand or maybe even a visit from the night court?” Thesan looked at you in question. “Oh no, I don’t think that will be happening. I made myself very clear to Azriel that I didn’t want to be his second choice or anything like that. If I haven’t been good enough for him in the almost five hundred years of knowing him then why would I suddenly be good enough now? I’m not interested in partaking in those mind games.” 

“Very well. I support whatever decision you make. Always.” you bowed your head in appreciation to the kind ruler. For as long as you remember Thesan has always been kind to you, always let you do as you wish and have control over your own life. He never offered any input unless asked and always listened with compassion while allowing you to figure out your own life, the least you could do is serve in his court to at least restart to repay him for all the care and compassion he has shown you in life. “Thesan? If you would allow it, I would be honored to serve in your court again, it's the least I can do to repay the kindness you have shown me.”  you could tell the captain was uneasy with your request and it made sense you had just come from the night court claiming Azriel as your mate and now wanted to serve in his lover's court. But truly you wanted nothing more than to leave behind the past and start building your new life in the dawn court. The court you were always supposed to be in. “It would be an honor to have you serve in my court.” 

Surprisingly it had been almost six months after leaving before the night court reached out to set up a meeting with you and the high lord but upon your request it was denied. You had finally settled into a routine not only within the court but within your own life and you had no plans of having any member of letting the night court interrupt that. “So how many more times do you think that they are going to send a letter before they get the hit?” Kolos sat at the kitchen table and watched as you made the both of them breakfast. “Honestly I don’t know. It's one thing in Rhysand is sending them himself but it's another if Azriel is asking him to send them. You know how Illyrians are, too stubborn for their own good.” Kolos couldn’t help but laugh at your statement for it held nothing but truth. “I suppose you are not wrong but what happens if there is a high lords meeting? You will be expected to attend.” The food was set before him as you moved to take the seat next to him. You placed you head on your head and smiled at him “It's a good thing I have my own personal warrior to protect me” 

During the first initial weeks you stayed in the court palace but soon after you moved into Kolos house. At first it was only because you would never pass up the opportunity to live with your friend, especially in the time of trying to move past your old life of the night court and what's a better idea then moving forwards with the support of a lifelong friend. As the six months came and went you found yourself becoming interested in Kolos and it was safe to say that the same could be said for him. The line that was becoming increasingly more blurred of friends and lovers had never been crossed but something told you that it would be very soon. 

You were at the daily meeting with Thesan and all of his other trusted advisors including Kolos when the announcement was made. “Rhysand has requested a high lords meeting, he also asks that it be held here.” there it was, the final card that you knew Rhysand had to play. Unlike most courts, Thesan had two emissaries, one was an older male and the other was you. He handled the day and night court while you handled the summer, spring, autumn and winter court. Theo, your counterpart, could not handle the likes of Berons offspring but unlike him nothing brought you more joy then the verbal sparring match that was bound to happen while dealing with Eris. Being in charge of the seasonal courts meant you had no idea what was happening with the other ones. Didn’t know it was escalating to the point of a high lords meeting being called but you also knew that when it came to Rhysands brothers he would stop at nothing to help them. 

You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Nobody knew the full reason as to why you had returned to the dawn court but your departure from the night court had piqued enough interest that the fae in the room were looking to you for the answer as to why Rhysand requested this meeting. You knew why but refused to acknowledge it. “And what exactly is the reason behind this meeting?” Kolos was quick to pull the attention away from yourself and onto him. “He wants to see how everyone is doing after the war and talk over next moves.” you watched as Thesan weighed his options. “Very well, the same rules apply as last time.”

The date of the meeting had been set for three months after the letter had been read, as it was to ensure each court would be able to attend despite their excuses. You had spent the morning getting ready trying to fight off the nerves of having to see your old family again when Kolos decided that he had enough of watching you fight the thoughts running loose in your head. Leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed he simply watched for a minute as you perfected your makeup. “You do know that if Azriel tries anything I will kick his ass.” startled you look through the mirror to meet his eyes. “You also do know that the last time there was a high lord meeting that he was able to get through the barriers? I mean you were there.” Kolos simply gave you a shrug and a sly smile before taking in your outfit. A beautiful dress adored your body, it was a soft blush orange color as if to mimic the color of the sunrise. The top of the dress was a v-neck that stopped just below the sternum with straps on the top that started on one side wrapped around your neck and connected to the other side as if to make an x on your chest. The sleeves see through and flowy while the bottom of your dress had two hip high slits on each side of your hips. The whole dress was stunning. 

Kolos knew that the dress you picked out was nothing out of your usual attire but after seeing you in night court clothes for so long it was nothing short of breathtaking to see you in dawn court attire, and it didn’t help that your dress was fit for a queen. As much as he would love to sit here and drink in your beauty for as long as you would let him, Thesan wouldn’t be pleased if you were last to the meeting that was being hosted in his court mostly for the reason of your old personal matters. So without another word said he ushered you to the door and from there you winnowed to the court palace. 

Ryhsand was fashionably late as always but of course not without letting his shadowsinger and general making sure it was safe first. You watched from afar as he appeared from thin air and assessed that it was safe for his high lord and lady. Soon after the inner circle appeared before your very eyes. You watched as they took their seats across from where you were sat at the side of Kolos. Thesan was in the middle and to the right of him was his captain and to his right was Kolos and at his side was you. It was a safe bet to make that they were surprised to see you on the side of warriors and not the side where the other important court members sat. 

You felt as if Azriel tried to catch your eyes but you refused to give him that satisfaction so instead you focused on watching all those in the room except the night court. “I forgot to tell you that you look stunning by the way.” Kolos had leaned over to whisper into your ear and intern place himself just mere inches from your face. “I see what you’re playing at but thank you.” you whispered back as you felt Azriel stare weigh on your body. “I’m not playing at anything, I simply forgot to compliment you earlier and thought I should do it before the chaos ensues.” 

From the moment Azriel arrived his eyes couldn’t leave your body. They assessed you from head to toe to make sure you were ok before taking in your outfit. The night court attire looked good on you but he hates to admit the dawn court was devastatingly beautiful. He took in every part of your exposed skin and wished he could keep the eyes of every male and female off of you so that nobody got the idea of approaching you. 

Azriel knew that you were avoiding making eye contact with him and anyone else from the inner circle and he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt but he also knew he was to blame. But nine months had passed since he seen you last and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and be able to explain everything, to beg for your forgiveness and make the mating bond work. In those first six months Azriel sent letter after letter along with Rhysand pleading for you to come back and just talk to him but eventually he realized you wouldn’t so he asked Rhysand to call this meeting in hopes that he would get a moment alone with you to tell you everything he needed to say. 

What Azriel didn’t account for was for you to be seated directly next to the random man he saw when you had come back to the house of wind to collect your belongings. He also didn’t account for the said random man to put his face so close to yours that if you moved you would be kissing. Azriel watched as the man whispered something in your ear and you turned to face him with a light blush now coloring your cheeks and soft smile gracing your features and before he knew it he was in between the two of you.

“Don’t ever get that close to my mate again.” Azriels words were thinly veiled with a promise of a threat. “Who is to say that she is your mate shadowsinger? As far as I knew you were with the middle Archeron sister. What was her name again? Ella? No…it’s Elain right?” Kolos knew that he was dancing on the edge of a fine line when it came to upsetting Azriel but he also knew that he was a warrior in his own right and could also handle his own if it came down to a fight. 

It was as if you had been watching everything happen in slow motion. From Kolos complimenting you to Azriel appearing right before you and now them bickering. Snapping out from the haze you were in you grabbed Azriels arm marched him back over to the night court and demanded that Rhysand winnow you to the river house.  

“What the hell were you thinking?” you yelled at your so-called mate. Without another thought you stalked up to Azriel and started pushing an accusing finger into his chest. “What made you think you had the right to do that! In front of the other courts also? Are you out of your mind?” Azriel had nothing to say, he had never seen you this mad, not even when you were yelling at him about Elain. He could see the redness creep up your neck and slowly take over your face, he watched as the rage built behind your eyes. Backing away from him you turn to look at the rest of the group and spot Elain sitting in the corner holding nyx. The person who started this all. You leveled her a glare before turning your attention back to the man who decided to play hero when it wasn’t necessary. 

“Do you really think I needed you to come to my rescue like some damsel in distress? I know that this might be new news to you but I am no such thing and have never needed your rescuing, especially not now. That man you decided to threaten was Kolos, my childhood best friend for your information since you seem to think he's some sort of threat to my life. He will never be someone I need saved from. You on the other hand, well the same can’t be said for you.”  

“I know you don’t need me to save you but y/n, that man could have kissed you if he had leaned forward. Please try to see that from my point of view. He may be a childhood friend of yours but you are my mate and I can’t just allow another male around you like that.” If you weren’t mad before then now you were livid. How dare he talk about someone being close enough to kiss you when the whole inner circle knew that he and Elain were doing much worse. “Let's get one thing clear, Azriel, I may be your mate but I do not want this bond. I refuse to let myself fall into a relationship where I am only wanted because the bond makes you want me. So if I want another male to kiss me then that is my decision only, you will have no input.” Once again you were face to face with Azirel, anger radiating from your very body. “You want me to look at that situation from your point of view? Ok Azriel, then let's look at you and Elain from my point of view shall we? How about all those times when she purposefully pushed herself into you or the times when she would need “extra” help with something as simple as stretching or when you two would sit and whisper to each other at family dinners. You also could have kissed her if you happened to move any closer. Plus let's not act like you two are innocent, everyone here knows what you two did behind closed doors. Oh and one last thing Azirel you do not allow who gets to be around me. You never have and you never will.”  

Through the mating bond Azriel could feel your resentment not only towards him but also the situation and it was the first time the spy master could truly say he was feeling panicked. Azriel knew he had made a grave mistake but he also knew that he would have never even looked in Elains direction if he knew about the mating bond. If only you could see that he would spend the rest of his life apologizing for the pain he caused you if you would let him close enough to do so. He just had to get you to understand how sorry he was. 

Rhysand could see that the situation was escalating on your part and that Azriel needed a minute to think of how to approach you so he tried to step in and help. “Y/n I know that you are upset with Azriel, but I think you need to step back from the situation and take a moment to calm down.” Rhysand may be a high lord but the pure hostility coming from you could rival his own power and deep down he knew he made a mistake interjecting. 

“I need to calm down Rhysand? That's hilarious coming from you, I mean I do remember you being willing to kill Tamlin with your own bare hands for what he did to feyre. But I need to calm down? Alright.” Turning back around to deal with Azriel you found him on his knees before you. “Y/n I know that I fucked up. I know that I should have realized sooner that you had feelings for me because that is my job as spymaster to be aware of the slightest things and I am sorry that I failed to see that, but you have to understand, if I had known about the bond I would have never even looked in Elains direction. I know I can’t control who's around you but you have to understand I just want to keep you safe. And I know that Elain and I aren’t innocent but I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you, you just have to let me.”

For a second all you could do is stare down at Azriel and feel his sorrow through the bond. And for a second you wanted to forgive him but deep down you knew that this moment would be something you could never let go, never get past. You knew that Azirel could spend the next thousand years apologizing but some part of you would never be able to fully trust him. And the realization broke your heart but you knew you also owed it to yourself to never be treated this way no matter the circumstance. A heartbeat later you knew the choice you had to make. 

“Azriel, get up.” He had never heard your voice so dejected before and he knew something was wrong. “ I do not care that you were with Elain. Did it make me happy? No. but you were also with her before I knew about the bond so I guess it doesn’t matter but what does matter is that up until that point I had spent hundreds of years showing you my love with no acknowledgement ever but suddenly this “wholesome” human girl appeared ,who was afraid of fae mind you, and you were infatuated with her as if she hung the moon and the stars. What I do care about is that if it weren’t for the bond we share you would have never considered picking me instead of her, would have never looked my way. I mean hell you forgot me on the battlefield because Elain needed you.” 

The inner circle watched as you took a frustrated breath in while trying to collect your emotions and they held their breaths also while waiting for you to say something else. “I have wanted a mate for as long as I knew about their existence and as much as I want to have this with you Azriel I can’t. There will always be a piece of me that can’t let this go. You could spend forever apologizing but I will never be able to fully accept it, and neither of us deserve that. I deserve to never be anything but the only choice and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t have an ounce of resentment in their heart towards you. So no, I can’t do this.” 

“Why can’t you see that I am picking you! I want you! I want this bond, I want this relationship!  If this is what you want and it's what I want, why can’t we make this work? I would rather have you and you be mad at me for the pain I’ve caused you then to not have you at all. I will grovel at your feet until you see that I want this, if that's what I have to. I will do anything. Please…please just let's at least try.” Azirel had never felt so many conflicting emotions at once. Anger, heartbreak, nerves. You name it he's experiencing it waiting for your response. 

“I’m…. I am so sorry Azriel. I can’t. At least not right now. I need time to process and to heal. I need time away from you and this and the whole situation. I need to find the version of me that is not the one who would do anything for an ounce of your attention. I am not saying no for forever but for now I am and for however long else I need. I won’t do anything to the bond but please don’t send me your emotions. I need to sort mine out without trying to figure out yours also. I do not know how long it will take but maybe someday in the future we can try again.” 

With the permission from Thesan, Kolos winnowed to the river house to make sure you were ok and to bring you back from the night court. What he wasn’t expecting to find was Azriel on his knees before pleading for your forgiveness. He watched from afar as you explained why the mating bond couldn’t be. He disregarded Azriels form as you turned away from him and walked towards himself. Kolos wasn’t sure how you knew he was there considering you never once looked away from Azriel until you walked away but without any words needed he took your hand and winnowed away back to the dawn court to begin your healing.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx , @piceous21 , @harrystylesfan2686 , @kemillyfreitas , @naturakaashi , @kalulakunundrum , @thelov3lybookworm , @marina468 , @feyres-fireheart , @thalia-as-blog , @blurredlamplight , @wallacewillow0773638 , @inkedaztec

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

part five

pairing: james potter x black sister!reader, regulus black x sister!reader

genre: angst with like maybe a little fluff?

el's thoughts: this is part five! hope yall enjoy!

main masterlist | regulus masterlist | james masterlist

Regulus and Y/N Black showed up at the Potter’s manor once again. Almost a year had gone by since the first time and the twins returned completely different people. They were no longer the scared children in need of help and shelter. 

Y/N knocked on the door swiftly and took a step back as she straightened her trench coat lapels. Regulus stood behind her, just over her shoulder keeping an eye on the surroundings behind them. 

The door opened cautiously and the twins were met with a pair of the most striking green eyes.

“Black,” Lily Evans said.

“Evans,” Y/N nodded curtly in response. “We were wondering if we could speak to Sirius?”

The redhead had eyed the skeptically. “What makes you think he’s here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Please Evans, I’m not an idiot.”

“And neither are we.” 

Y/N saw immediately how her eyes cast downward to her cloaked forearm. Y/N’s stomach turned as she looked back to Regulus who also seemed uneasy. Y/N pulled at her sleeve and cleared her throat. “Please… let me see my brother.” Y/N inhaled deeply, “I beg of you, Lily.”

Lily sighed out of pure pity. “Alright, go around back. I’ll send him that way.”

Regulus eyed the redhead in distrust but led Y/N to follow her directions either way. They weren’t in a position to argue.

They walked to the back of the manor and saw Sirius waiting on the back porch anxiously running his hands through his hair. When he saw his younger siblings he lit up like a light bulb and rushed to hug them tightly.

“Oh thank Godric! I thought Lily was pullin’ my leg.” He made no move to let them go. “Are you two alright? I got so scared when you didn’t return, and then I got no letters from the both of you-”

“We’re fine, Siri,” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder as she held him back just as tightly. Without her realizing it, the ache of missing her eldest brother only grew as time passed. She missed the way he held her. The way he comforted her as if she were a child. “We’re alright. Promise.”

Regulus was the first to break up the hug and he cleared his throat while blinking quickly to rid himself of the tears that prickled in the back of his eyes. “Sirius, we came here to tell you something.”

“You’re Death Eaters? I’ve heard that already.”

“Yes, we’re Death Eaters, but that wasn’t what we came all this way to tell you. We’re not idiots.”

Y/N forced herself not to roll her eyes. “We came to get help and offer our services.”

“Offer your services?” Sirius trailed off, confusion swimming in his eyes. 

“We know the Dark Lord’s plans, having heard everything first hand. We can be valuable to your cause don’t’cha think?” Y/N said with a mock confidence and cockiness that her eyes didn’t carry.

“No.” Sirius shook his head, looking between his two little siblings. “Abouslute not. Do you know what you would be signing up for? That’s basically asking to die.”

“Sirius, please.”

“No, I won’t allow it. You can’t just put your lives on the line for the sake of others.”

“Is that not what you’re doing? What James, Remus, and Peter are doing?”

“That’s different…”

“How?” Y/N nearly snapped. “Tell me how is it any different? Sirius our lives are already on the line every day we wake up. We didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t want this life, so let us gain what little control we can. I want the risk to be worth something, Sirius.”

The older Black shook his head, “It’s too dangerous… I can’t.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’re not really in charge of us then. Isn’t it?” Regulus snipped.

“We are doing this, Sirius. With or without your support,” Y/N looked up at him with tears lining her eyes. “But we’d much rather have you stand up for us.”

Sirius stared at his siblings in silent mourning of their youth before he nodded slowly. “Okay, I support you both.”

~

James walked into the Potter’s kitchen. His parents left the house to him and he opened it up to the order, not wanting to stay in the house alone or let it sit empty and useless. His parents wouldn’t want that. 

Normally only he and Sirius actually lived there but since a few weeks ago Y/N and Regulus moved back in. Some of the other Order members would spend a night or two but never stayed longer. So it took a few days for James to get used to other people in the house again. 

Y/N sat at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of tea, that by the looks of it had gone cold a while ago. She sat in her pjamas with one knee brought up to her chest and the other tucked under her with her chin on her knee. She looked tangled up but made it look comfy, almost enough to convince James that if he put himself in the same position he would be just as comfortable. 

“You look lost.” His voice startled her, causing her to jolt a little. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh… no, no you’re all good. Sorry.” Y/N repositioned herself and let her painted nail trace the rim of her mug, her eyes became unfocused again as she stared into the dark liquid. 

“No need to apologize, love.” James walked to the stove where the kettle sat and turned it on again. The pet name that slipped from his lips went unnoticed by him but caught Y/N’s attention, though she wouldn’t mention it.

“What’re you doing up?” Y/N asked quietly, allowing him to take her cup and dump the cold tea.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

“Same reason apparently.” 

James hummed, putting a new tea bag in her mug while pulling out a mug for himself and doing the same. Y/N had finally realized that he was making her a new cup of tea and straightened up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, your cup had already gone cold. Unless you didn’t want another one…” James trailed off.

“No, I do,” Y/N spoke quietly, wringing her fingers together mindlessly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

James placed the freshly made cup of tea in front of Y/N, the steam curling up in soft, lazy tendrils. He gave her a small smile before settling into the chair opposite her, his own tea cradled in his hands. The kitchen was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy but not quite unwelcome. James found it oddly comforting.

“So,” he began, his voice cutting through the silence but not in a harsh way, “what’s on your mind? What’s keeping you up?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but then again she shouldn’t have been surprised. “Oh… just stuff,” she said vaguely, her fingers fidgeting with the mug.

James tilted his head, studying her carefully. “You’re not very descriptive, are you?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she kept her gaze down. “Just… everything, I guess. The war, Regulus, Sirius, m-my parents…” Her voice faltered, and she shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, though the weight of her words said otherwise. 

James nodded, his brow furrowing. “That’s a lot to carry all alone.”

Y/N shrugged again, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m used to it by now.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” His voice was soft but firm, and Y/N finally glanced up at him. There was something in his expression-–an openness, a warmth—that made her chest feel a little lighter, even if just for a fleeting moment.

“Yeah, well,” she said, trying to shrug off the vulnerability creeping in, “not much of a choice these days, is there?”

James didn’t press her, sensing she wasn’t ready to share more. Instead, he smiled, raising his mug. “Here’s to sleepless nights in the Potter kitchen. At least we’re not alone in our misery.”

That coaxed a small laugh from Y/N, a sound James found himself wanting to hear more often. “Cheers to that,” she said, clinking her mug against his softly.

~

Over the next few days, James found himself seeking Y/N out more often. Whether it was helping her brew potions for the Order, get ready to go to a Deatheatter meeting, or simply sitting with her in the living room while she read. He couldn’t seem to stay away. He liked the way her face softened when she was deep in thought, the way her laugh—when she let it out—filled the room like sunlight, a drastic contrast to her usual persona.

Y/N, on her part, was equally drawn to James. She hadn’t expected him to be so kind, so patient. She’s always known him as Sirius’ blood-traitor best friend, the one who was always laughing and causing trouble. But the day he found her crying in the hallway changed her perspective entirely. But this James added to her changed perspective. This James, the one who brought her tea without asking and listened without interrupting, was someone she found herself wanting to know better.

One evening, they were sitting on the porch steps, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The air was cool, and Y/N had wrapped herself in a blanket. James had brought out two mugs of hot cocoa, handing one to her without a word. 

“You’re really good at this, you know,” she said after a long silence.

James raised an eyebrow. “Good at what?”

“This,” she gestured between them and around them. “Making people feel… safe.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that’s just you, Y/N. You make it easy.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, hiding her smile behind the rim of her mug. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, though there was no usual bite to her words. “You’ve taken care of Sirius for years now and have made him feel safe. Even Regulus feels safe now.” She trailed off, “Well, as safe as we could be.”

James hummed and stayed silent.

As safe as they could be.

~

It was Sirius who noticed first.

He walked into the kitchen one afternoon to find James and Y/N sitting close together at the counter, their heads bent over a piece of parchment. James was explaining something, his hand occasionally brushing against hers as he pointed to the page. Y/N didn’t pull away, her face lit up with one of the rare smiles Sirius hadn’t seen in such a long time.

“Oh, this is interesting,” Sirius drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

James and Y/N both looked up, their expressions a mix of guilt and annoyance. “What do you want, Sirius?” Y/N asked, rolling her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “Just enjoying the view. You two look cozy.”

“Bugger off,” James muttered, though his ears turned red.

Sirius’s grin widened. “Alright, alright. Don’t let me interrupt your... working.”

As Sirius left, Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “He’s never going to let this go.”

James laughed, reaching out to gently nudge her arm. “Let him have his fun. It’s not so bad, is it?”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I suppose not.”

[the--rebel--fae]

HELLO!!!

do u think I could ask for some angst->fluff for nightmares for the Diasomnia boys?

(twisted wonderland)

A/N: Hiya, my dear! First off, I'd like to say I'm so so sorry for the late response to your request. Life's been...hectic, to say the least, and I'm still getting the hang of trying to do proper time management. Anyhoot! Thanks so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one. Tbh, I love these boys so much and have been getting back into the Twist fandom again, so yea 💜 Well my friend, I hope the wait was worth it! Enjoy!

Pairing: Diasomnia boys x Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word Count: 607

Chase The Nightmares Away - Bad Dream Comfort Headcanons

Lilia

First up, we have our lovely bat dad. We all know he’d probably be the perfect person to go to for nightmares.

He’s bat dad for a reason y’all.

When you walk in he’s probably still up, probably playing video games. 

So when you mumble you couldn’t sleep because of nightmares, he’s pulling up a chair, getting you a blanket, and snacks. Everything you need, peepaw has it. 

Wanna talk about what happened? No worries, he’s helped Silver, Sebek, and Malleus many times with their nightmares.

“Little bat? Are you alright? Ah, a nightmare. There’s no need to worry, why don’t you come sit by me and we can play this new video game together? And if you want, you can tell me about what happened.”

Sebek

Sebek, yea..good luck on getting some comfort from him. But he’ll try his best!

He’ll probably be like: Human what are you doing in here? Oh, you had a nightmare? Uhm, why are you here then?

Poor boy would be so confused.

He’ll definitely point out how weak humans are, but then I think when he sees you truly upset, he’d feel it as his duty as a knight to protect “those weaker than him”. At least that’s the excuse he’s playing when we both know the crocodile boy cares in his own tsun-tsun way.

“Human? Why are you here so late? A nightmare? I do suppose a human would be bugged by something like that. Fae are much stronger. O-oh I didn’t mean to make you more upset. Ahem, well, as my duty as a knight in training I’ll do you the service of protecting you. You should be honored. Here, you can borrow my Malleus-Sama plush. I made it myself! It looks just like the young lord, doesn’t it?”

Silver

Ah yes, our sleepy little prince Silver. If this boy is actually awake for once I think he’d do a pretty good job at comforting you.

I can see him as the type to have a lot of blankets so he’d probably give you one to snuggle with as comfort.

I could also see him get some of his little animal friends to comfort you too if you wanted that. 

And if you wanted to talk about your nightmare, he’d be all ears, at least until he’d fall back asleep. But, I bet he’d do his best to fight back the sleepiness as long as possible for you.

“Oh, Prefect. You’re up late. What’s that? You had a nightmare? I’m sorry, not sleeping well is never a good thing. Here, I have some extra blankets, and we can even get some of my animal friends here if you’d like. Don’t worry, it was just a dream, you’re ok now.”

Malleus

Ah, our Housewarden of Diasomnia, the future ruler of Briar Valley. Malleus Draconia. Our sweet draconic prince.

I think he’d care the most but not know whatever the loving hell what to do.

Does this man even get nightmares?

Walks around the Night Raven campus is definitely going to happen the second you tell him what’s wrong. Nothing solves problems better than a nice walk in some fresh air.

He’ll probably even tell you stories about his time in Briar Valley to distract you or even let you play with Gao Gao Dragon-kun!

10/10 best person to go to for comfort aside from Lilia.

“Child of Man? What’s the matter? You seem upset. Oh, a nightmare? Yes, those can be troubling. How about we take a walk outside and if you feel up to it, you can talk about it. It's better than being alone. I'll even let you play with Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.”

Well, that's it for these headcanons! I hope you enjoyed them! It was a lot of fun to write! And again, so sorry for the delay! Feel free to request again!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Twisted wonderland!

[celli-ohs]

hubba hubba!

part two of accidentally in love! series frat boy!yeonjun x stubborn!reader; college!au, one-sided love to lovers! comedy/crack, fluff, angst, smut

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist!

15. pretty (written chapter 3.17k)

Your phone dings for what seems like the 20th time tonight, but you’re so annoyed you don’t even go to check. “You’re not going to see?” Yujin gestures to your phone as she sits beside you on the couch. You all are seated in the living room, Rei and Wonyoung also beside you as they decide on what crappy TV show for you four to watch. Tonight was an actual girls' night. After a couple of chaotic “girls' nights” with all the boys, you and the other girls finally pulled the plug on the invitation following some absurd requests. So instead of gathering at your apartment like you all usually did, tonight you opted to stay over at Yujin’s and Wonyoung’s apartment (Liz had gone to see her family in Jeju for a couple of days). You sigh and shake your head, getting up to grab a drink. “No, I’m sure it’s just Yeonjun again.”

“Again? He’s been all over you recently, are you sure he doesn’t like you?” Wonyoung eyes you with a smirk. “Are you really going to have me relive my trauma of being friend-zoned by a frat boy?” You glare at her, opening your soda. “Sorry, it’s just why else would he be commenting on every post you’re in? He has no reason to be lurking.” She proves her point. “Honestly, I’m with Won on this,” Yujin nods. “Not you too, oh my god,” You roll your eyes. “I’m serious! Look I’ve been meaning to tell you this but when you had me model your dress, he seemed like he was really really into you.” Yujin reveals. You’re shocked but then scoff at her. “He’s always like that.” You disagree. “Oh really? So he just happens to constantly compliment you, wink at you, call you pet names? I almost forgot- he hugs you?!”

Both Rei and Wonyoung are flabbergasted at this information. You suddenly feel your face flush, and you begin to feel the pressure. “Uh- I can explain.” You hold up a hand. “You guys touch skin?!” Rei looks disgusted, while Wonyoung is trying to wrap her head around this. “Listen! Listen, okay?!” You hold your hands out, forcing them to quiet down. “He compliments me because he’s trying to show his gratitude. I’ve been doing all the heavy work in class, he said he feels bad so he wants me to know he appreciates it.” You say. “He only winks at me when he’s telling some stupid dad joke, and he only calls me names because he knows I don’t like them.” Yujin rolls her eyes, not believing you. “Okay those are plausible, but that doesn’t explain the hugging.” Wonyoung reminds you.

“Yujin is exaggerating, we only hugged each other goodbye.” You throw your hand to the side. “Just like I do with all of you, my friends!” The three girls look amongst themselves. “Fine, if you want the benefit of the doubt, okay then.” Yujin concedes. “But I know what I saw, and when he comes back crawling to you, I better get a thank you.” She threatens. You cross your arms and just decide to sit back down. “Whatever you say,” You snuggle into her side, giving her a silly smile. She pretends to be angry, but then she begins to laugh, throwing an arm around you. “Sorry, you’re one of my best friends and I just think you deserve to be loved by someone who isn’t afraid or a douche.” She mutters. “I know you’re just looking out for me, I’m grateful.”

“Us too! I want you to be happy and never have to worry about whether or not the person you’re with even likes you,” Wonyoung leans her head against your arm. You sit with a warm smile when Rei suddenly yelps. “Ow! Yujin, Wonyoung elbowed me!” As you and Yujin laugh, Wonyoung spits back. “Say something nice to Y/n you man hater!” Rei groans. “I think that guy is stupid and deserves to get jumped for hurting your feelings,” You eye her cautiously. “But I won’t because you like him.” She concludes. “I don’t like him.” You mutter. “Oh lord, here we go again.” Yujin sighs. “I don’t! We’re friends. I’m not going to fall for a guy who only sees me as a friend.” You laugh. “And when you guys start dating, I’ll be sure to remember that,” Wonyoung teases. “You guys are insuff-”

Your phone suddenly rings, and you clumsily fish it from under your seat on the couch. The contact name has you jumping up. “Go ahead and start the episode, I’ll be right back!” You don’t even look at your friends as you step outside, shutting the front door behind you. “Hello?” You say as soon as you answer the call. “Hey pretty, what’re you doing?” Yeonjun’s voice sounds like butter, and you can’t help but giggle. “Nothing much, just having a girls' night.” You explain quickly. “With Jake?” You swear you hear a twinge of jealousy. “No,” You laugh. “Just me and the actual girls this time. Kicked him out after he wanted to do Scooby Doo masks.” You hear Yeonjun crack up, and you smile to yourself. “Well, I have a question to ask you.”

“Okay, shoot,” You nod. You hear him clear his throat. “Are you busy tomorrow night? Soobin and his girlfriend are having a movie night and they said I could invite someone.” You pause, processing the question. “Are you asking me if I want to go with you?” You double-check, with a tone of cheekiness. “Yeah, I am.” Yeonjun sounds oddly shy. As you lean against the wall, you chuckle. “You couldn’t ask Kai or Beomgyu?” You tease. “Oh God no. Beomgyu’s too pissy to be around, and even if I did want Kai to go, he’s got the closing shift at work.” You hum at his answer. “I see, so I’m just the last resort.” You joke. “No, you were my first option.” Yeonjun shuts you right up. “Oh,” You peep out. He always found a way to surprise you. “So what do you say? Come join me?”

“You’re lucky I broke my non-dominant arm. If it was my right arm, I’d probably be unable to drive you.” Yeonjun chuckles as you two cruise down the street. “That just makes me more nervous.” You joke right back. Once you’d agreed to go with him, he’d offered to pick you up. You hadn’t expected much, but you also didn’t think big bad boy Yeonjun would pull up in front of your apartment complex in a Toyota RAV4, a total mommy car. “Why’re you nervous?” He asks, reminding you where you two were heading. You shrug, lying. “I’m meeting people I’ve never really talked to before,” You give him a small explanation. He nods understandingly. “Yeah, I get it, but I promise they’re all cool.” He reassures you as you two pull into a familiar apartment complex.

“This is where the boys live.” You look out the window, a bit shocked. “Yeah. Jay and the guys live here, on the third floor.” You point out their apartment, its curtains are closed but the windows are still bright, signifying someone is home. “Oh yeah, I think Soobin mentioned his girlfriend lives near them,” Yeonjun mentions. “Maybe I should pop in and say hi,” You mumble to yourself. “No, they might be busy, besides, the others are probably waiting for us,” Yeonjun says. You don’t seem to hear the slight jealousy in his voice. As you guys walk up the stairs, Yeonjun leans into you for a second. You can smell his cologne, it smells inviting. “I forgot to mention: Soobin and his girlfriend are weebs, I think we’re watching some kinda anime movie,” He mumbles. 

You laugh, nudging him in the arm. “No problem, I’m not picky with movies.” He leads you to a certain door and knocks. It bursts open in seconds, and you’re greeted by a tall man wearing the most atrocious Shrek-themed shirt you’ve ever seen. “You guys made it! Come on in!” Soobin ushers you two inside. You and Yeonjun arrive last, entering the bustling apartment. “Make yourselves comfortable. My girlfriend already made popcorn and Jen made pasta if you’re hungry.” Soobin tells you both as you remove your shoes. “Thanks, man,” Yeonjun claps him on the shoulder. “Woah! This is so cool!” You gasp at the screen projected onto the large blank wall in the living room. “Isn’t it? Best financial investment I’ve made with adult money,” Soobin’s girlfriend grins at you as she joins her boyfriend’s side (you notice she's wearing a matching Shrek shirt). 

“Didn’t Keeho steal it from our math teacher in high school after we graduated?” Chaewon interjects from the kitchen. “And I had to pay a heavy fee for him to let me keep it,” Soobin’s girlfriend argues. “Are you hungry?” Yeonjun asks you, secretly placing a hand on the small of your back. “I could go for some snacks,” You nod, letting him lead you to the tiny table. “Oh, let me add more M&Ms,” A girl scurries to the table, opening a fresh bag before she pours it into the bowl. “I’m Kazuha by the way, Chaewon’s girlfriend.” She greets. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” You smile. “Oh my gosh! Y/n!” A familiar voice calls out and you look behind you. Jen holds out her arms for a hug, and you excitedly run to her. “How’ve you been? You look so good!” She compliments. 

You thank her before a sneaky hand wraps itself around Jen’s waist. “Hey Y/n, how are you?” Keeho smiles. Yeonjun skips over to you, trying to show you the large plate of snacks he’d made. “I’m good, how about you?” You ask. “Not much honestly, just busy with school and ETEN,” Keeho nods, before turning his attention to the man to your left. “Which I need to talk to you about.” He looks and sounds stern as he faces Yeonjun. “Uh, can we do this another time dude? We’re here to have fun, I don’t feel like talking about that right now.” Yeonjun tries to be nice, popping a sour gummy worm into his mouth. “And when were you planning on answering my texts then? You’ve been avoiding all of council for the past month and a half.” Keeho raises a brow.

“You stopped showing up to parties, you have Changbin doing all the work, and you haven’t even spoken to Mark since-” “Okay babe, calm down,” Jen interjects, placing a hand on Keeho’s arm. “Let’s go sit down, you two can talk later.” She pushes him towards the living room, the others are also settling down. As they leave, you turn to Yeonjun with concern. “You’ve been avoiding the frat?” You ask him quietly. He doesn’t meet your eyes, looking embarrassed. “I’ve just been busy,” He shrugs. “With what?” You ask, but Yeonjun preoccupies himself with the gummy worms. You suddenly realize what he’s been busy with all month. “With… me?” You point to yourself. He finally looks at you, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

“Let’s just say I’ve been reevaluating what I’d rather be spending my time doing.” He sends you a wink before taking your arm and leading you to the living room. Soobin and his girlfriend are seated on one end of the couch, Jen and Keeho on the other. Chaewon is cuddling with Kazuha on the bean bag. It’s then you realize what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into: a couples movie night. But before you can react, Yeonjun pulls you down beside him, squishing you two into the sofa chair. Actually, you’re practically on top of him, half sitting on his lap, the other half on the actual seat. You begin to feel hot, and your heart is beating so loud you swear Yeonjun could hear it too. You don’t want to turn to look at him, too embarrassed with how close you two were right now.

“We all can read right?” Soobin asks innocently. “Not Chaewon,” Keeho jokes, and he’s hit in the face with a popcorn kernel. “Ow! I was kidding!” He whines. “Well either way I don’t care, cause there’s no way in hell I'm watching dub,” Soobin says, and he presses play.

Halfway through the movie, you get up to use the bathroom. If you were being honest, you had no idea what was going on. Not because it was spoken in Japanese or because the plot was confusing. It was because you could feel Yeonjun’s… well everything. His heartbeat, his breath, his eyes. It was driving you crazy, you could barely concentrate. You hated yourself for feeling like this, after his rejection you thought you could control, maybe even dissipate your feelings for him. But sitting all cozy on one another in a dark cramped space had you thinking otherwise. Occasionally he’d lean in and whisper in your ear. Usually, he commented something funny about the movie or Soobin’s reactions, but every so often he’d say something that would make the hairs raise. 

“You smell good, what perfume are you wearing?” He says while lightly sniffing your collar, his nose tickling you. “I was going to tell you in the car, but I like your hair tonight.” Yeonjun’s lips ghost over your neck and you get chills. “Feed me a gummy worm, pretty? My arms are full,” He playfully uses his one free hand to squeeze your thigh. You had to excuse yourself before you got too dizzy from all the teasing. After calming down, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for when you return. There's a knock on the door and you pause. “Just a second,” You call out before you open it slightly. You don’t know who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Jen. “Hi, sorry, can I come in real quick?” She asks though she pushes herself inside. 

“Uh, yeah,” You nod. “Here, I’m finished anyway.” You attempt to leave when she catches your hand. “No! I actually wanted to talk to you.” She says, and you close the door again, this time with more concern. “What is it?” You know the others have probably noticed you both are gone now. “I’ll be fast,” Jen promises. “I just felt that you needed to hear this since you and Yeonjun are seeing each other now,” She says and you hold a hand out to stop her. “We’re not, we’re just friends.” You correct her. “Oh sweetie, everyone and their mama can see you guys like each other. Don’t deny it.” She laughs. You feel embarrassed because maybe she was right. “Even if you guys are ‘just friends’, I need to warn you.” She says with air quotes.

“Warn me about what?” You furrow your brows. Jen sighs and leans against the bathroom counter. “Yeonjun and I used to have a… thing last year. Nothing super serious I promise. It was mainly sex.” She begins to say, nonchalantly. “I just feel that as girl to girl, you should know he may seem sweet, but he’s never serious.” Your heart begins to sink. “He does this to every girl, he butters them up, sleeps with them, then ditches them for another one,” Jen says, her words stinging. “Yeonjun used to take me to parties and dates or whatever, but when I didn’t want to sleep with him anymore, he stopped holding up that nice guy act and we went our separate ways.” Jen takes your hands suddenly and you have to fight the urge to pull away. “I know we’re not super close or anything, but you need to know because you deserve to know who he really is.”

Who Yeonjun really is… You swallow thickly and nod. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” You give her a smile. She smiles back, squeezes your hands, and sighs. “We should probably go back,” She mutters, and you two exit, pretending to have never even had a hushed conversation. “You guys okay?” Keeho asks as you and Jen sit back down. Yeonjun holds you so naturally, yet you feel so stiff. “Oh yeah, nothing much,” Jen nods, catching your eye. You turn away quickly. “Feeling okay? You were gone for a while.” Yeonjun whispers. “Yeah, I’m fine, just uh, lady problems,” You lie. You can feel Yeonjun stare at you, trying to figure you out, but you remain fixed on the screen. You can’t even pay attention to the film anymore, you just need to pretend that you are normal. Yeonjun seems to believe you because he nods and leans back into the seat. You both don’t say a word for the rest of the movie.

“Have a good night guys, thanks for coming over.” Soobin’s girlfriend waves goodbye from the front door. “Thanks for having us,” You smile. “Is Soobin going to be okay?” You point to the lanky man who’d latched himself onto his girlfriend as he cried his eyes out into her shoulder. “Oh yeah, every time we watch Your Name he cries. He’ll be fine.” She assures you, petting her boyfriend’s hair as he babbles on and on about the love story. “Just- just- I just love them so much!” He sniffles. “Dude, you’ve got snot all over your face.” Yeonjun snickers. Soobin sadly flips him off. “Alright, take care, see you guys later.” You and Yeonjun finally leave, walking silently side by side down the stairs back to the parking lot. “How’d you like the movie?” Yeonjun asks quietly.

“Good.” You lick your lips nervously. “Kinda confusing, but it was sweet.” Yeonjun chuckles, unlocking the car. You both get in, buckling up. It’s late, there are no cars on the road, which means he could speed through town to get you back home, but Yeonjun seems to take his time. After a few minutes of debating, you finally speak up. “Hey,” You swallow. “Have you been avoiding the frat for me?” You ask. Yeonjun slows the car to a stop at the red light. “Yeah, why?” He turns to you and you guys meet eyes. There’s something in the way he looks at you, his eyes are so gentle that you feel as if you could read him like an open book. Even with all the things Jen told you tonight, you knew now as you looked at Yeonjun under the neon streetlights that whoever she was referring to was not the same guy who sat across from you. This Yeonjun was different.

“Nothing.” You say, still looking at him. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” The light turns green, and Yeonjun has to force himself to look away to continue driving. “I’ll talk to the guys.” He sighs. “I’m just focusing on the more important stuff right now.” Your heart begins to flutter. “I’m more important to you?” You can’t even believe what you’re hearing. Yeonjun nods, a smile gracing his lips and you have to physically stop yourself from screaming with happiness. 

“You have no idea how important you are, pretty.”

Bonus:

Some things the guys did to get themselves banned from girls' night: Heeseung begging to play LOL, Sunghoon picking Frozen as the movie, Jake (other than the cursed Scooby Doo masks) getting angry over losing in Monopoly (noise complaints)

Jay did nothing wrong he would cook, let the girls paint his nails/do his makeup, and knew how to give a good massage, it was such a shame to kick him out (they still secretly invite him)

Yeonjun knew it was a couples' movie night, he just conveniently forgot to mention it

Loser Soobin and his gf return! lol I left lots of awooga crumbs in this chapter

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