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[vinyldoves]

MASTERLIST

Enjoy.

SHADOW AND BONE:

ONE STEP AHEAD (Kaz Brekker x reader)

LOVE BIRDS (Kaz Brekker x reader)

JAM SANDWICHES (Nikolai Lantsov x reader)

PEAKY BLINDERS:

FLU (Elsie Shelby series)

USE IT (Elsie Shelby series)

VAMPIRE DIARIES:

 BEING THE SALVATORE SISTER WOULD INCLUDE

ACOTAR/THRONE OF GLASS:

WAITING ROOM SERIES: (Cassian x reader)

Prologue 

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[acoazlove]

A New Place series masterlist

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your family forgetting your birthday causes a rift between you and them. maybe the aftermath is not so bad when someone unexpected decides to try and help. becoming a bigger part in your life than you could’ve imagined.

warnings: angst, eventual fluff, yearning but they don’t realise it yet, family drama, feelings of being unwanted, forgotten and ignored, feelings of betrayal, trouble sleeping/insomnia, lots of OC side characters in this series

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part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

…

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[serpentandlily]

Butterfly Fly Away

Butterfly Fly Away - Platonic!Reader x BatBoys

Summary: You’ve been bestfriends with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel since childhood but with the new additions to your Inner Circle, it's starting to feel like you are being replaced. When confronted, your three friends brush off your concerns, leading you to believe it’s time to move on and start a life of your own. But once you’re gone, the three brothers begin to realize just how much they need you in their lives. 

Based on this request.

Warnings: A mix of angst and fluff. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Butterfly Fly Away

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You let out a long shaky breath, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking around your now empty room in the Townhouse. You had packed up everything. Your clothes, your trinkets, the parchments full of scribbles from Nyx, the painting Feyre had gifted you of the whole family together. All of it.

Your chest felt hollow. The silence and emptiness was deafening. So many memories were made in this room, down these halls, in this city. The thought of leaving that all behind made your heart ache but the thought of staying here hurt worse. 

You had met Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian during your youth and struck a friendship with them. A friendship that had grown and grown into what felt like an impenetrable bond between the three of you. 

And they had always stressed how much importance you had within the family. The peacemaker, the mediator, the one who could end fights between them before they even began. Your magic was able to read the emotions of others, making you adept at talking others through their own feelings—of helping them understand why they felt the way they did. 

It was really the only thing you were good for. You weren’t a skilled fighter, or strategist, or politician. All weakness you hated considering your family was made of the most powerful fae.

But when it came to matters of the heart? Well, you were an expert. For everyone else anyways, considering yours was currently being torn apart. 

You had been there for each of them during the best and worst of days. Through the war, through Rhysand losing his family, through the forty-nine years without him. The four of you with Mor and Amren included had built a small family together. 

A family that was no longer around because they had all found another. And you had been left with none. 

Slowly but surely they had completely erased your spot in the family with the Archeron sisters. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like the three sisters. Each of them had a special place in your heart. But they changed the dynamic of the group so drastically. 

And you no longer felt like you belonged. 

Mor had felt it too, which was why she was more than happy to be sent to the continent to work on alliances there. Amren had found herself a lover and seemed content with keeping him all to herself. 

But you…you had nothing without them. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. 

You had tried to bring it up with them, had tried to hint that you felt a bit left out and neglected. But they had brushed you off, telling you it was time you “found a life of your own like they had.” You thought you did have a life of your own already. Here. But apparently that was not the case. 

You let out another sigh as you stared at the last three things you had to pack. You picked up the first one, a smooth rock—a red creek jasper. You still remembered the day Azriel had given it to you when you both were only eleven. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“You can do it, Az!” you shouted. 

You were standing underneath a very large boulder, holding a hand over your eyes as the sun shone down on you and Rhys. Cassian and Azriel were both on top of the boulder, wings spread wide as Cassian tried to direct Azriel on how to fly. 

Azriel’s face was nearly white and you could tell even from where you were standing that his hands were shaking. You took a few steps closer to the rock, holding your little arms out. 

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” you yelled up to him. “I promise!”

It was at that moment that Cassian decided he was over waiting for Azriel to jump and pushed the boy off the rock instead. Azriel shrieked, a sound he had never made before, and frantically tried to pump his wings but it was no use. He crashed right into you, sending you both sprawling on the ground.

“Y/n,” he gasped, rolling off of you. “Are you okay?” 

His eyes were wide with both shock and concern. They only widen more when you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. It hurt, a lot. You were both eleven but Azriel was already bigger than you. 

“I told you I’d catch you!” The look on his normally unreadable face sent you into another fit of giggles. 

Later that day, Azriel had gone to the nearby creek and dug around for hours looking for the perfect rock to give you, knowing you liked collecting the cool ones you found. He had apologized numerous times, even though it had been Cassian’s fault, but he still felt guilty. He finally stumbled on a tiny, smooth rock that was a mixture of dark orange and red swirls.

When he came home that night and offered it to you as another apology, Cassian and Rhys had laughed themselves nearly sick but you had just smiled at the shy boy and squeezed the rock in your hand, holding against your chest. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

It was the first gift Azriel had given you and it had stayed with you all these years. 

You wrapped it back in the silk handkerchief you kept it in and placed it in your bag. 

Your eyes moved to the next item. A scarf made from various scraps of fabric. Definitely not fashionable, but it had been a special gift from Rhysand.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“Why do you carry that old blanket around with you still?” The thirteen year-old Rhys was peering at the dirty blanket in your hand with a sneer. “We’re not babies anymore, y/n. You should get rid of it.” 

You pulled the blanket closer to you—a blanket made up of random scraps of fabric, the only thing your mother could afford at the time. It was ratty, falling apart at the seams, but it was special to you. 

“It’s the only thing I have left of her,” you said, quietly, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. 

Your mother had passed away years ago and your father, who had never loved her in the first place, had tossed out all her belongings. You had only managed to get your hands on the blanket before it was taken away.   

Rhys had said nothing else about it until winter solstice came around that year. You hadn’t noticed that he had snuck into your room and taken the blanket—bringing it to his mother to make into something a little better for you to carry around with you. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

He had given you the scarf that night and every single snowfall, it was the first one you pulled out. You packed it away with a heavy heart. You were moving to the Day Court, something you had already discussed with the Inner Circle, and you would hardly have use for it there. 

The last item sat on your dresser, a white, stuffed pegasus toy—a gift from Cassian. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

A knock sounded on your door but you ignored it, rolling over in your bed and wiping your tears.

Another knock.

“Y/n! Open up! I know you’re in there,” Cassian shouted through the door.

“Go away, Cass,” you managed to croak out through your tears. “I’m not in the mood.”

There was a pause before he shouted through the door again.

“What’s wrong, y/n? I can tell you’re crying!”

“Nothing, just go away!”

The door burst open and you shot up in your bed, cursing at yourself for not making sure it was locked. Cassian walked into your room, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. 

“Y/n?” He asked, quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

A tiny sob broke through your lips and Cassian was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around you. You both were only sixteen, but Cassian was already starting to look more like a male than a boy with how big he was getting. 

“Cyrus b-broke up with me,” you choked out. 

“Oh thank the gods!”

You glared up at Cassian, shoving him away from you.

“Get out if you’re going to be like that.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, y/n, I just mean… Well, we all think you’re too good for him, you know. He’s an asshole.”

More tears poured from your eyes and Cassian pulled you to his chest again. “I am really sorry, y/n. I know how much you liked him.”

Cassian had stayed with you that night, holding you until you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up the next day, a tiny stuffed Pegasus was waiting on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

‘I hope this little guy helps you feel better. But if you need to let off some steam, come find me in the training ring—Cassian.’

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You hugged the pegasus to your chest for a moment before dropping it into your bag with the last of your stuff. 

You were supposed to leave in the morning after a goodbye breakfast with the whole family, but the trip down memory lane had you feeling too upset.

You didn’t know if you could handle seeing them all, especially when they seemed to have no qualms about you leaving. 

Cassian didn’t need a secondary sparring partner to Azriel anymore now that he had Nesta. Rhys didn’t need help reading through correspondence now that he had Feyre. And those serene walks through the woods with Azriel? Well, those went to Elain now. 

You pulled out the copy of keys you had for the Townhouse and River House and set them down on the dresser in the room. You took one last look around, your heart breaking in your chest, before finally winnowing away.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“This alliance with Vallahan could go two ways,” Rhys said, stroking his jaw. “They fight with us against Koschei and end this whole thing before it becomes a full blown war. Or they’re faking their support and have already sided with Koschei.”

“If they are, the results of that will be devastating,” Mor said with a frown. “Our armies are still so depleted and even with the help of the other courts minus Autumn, Koschei has triple our numbers if Vallahan has already sided with him.” 

Cassian let out a low whistle as he stared over the battle plans. “We’d be fucked. Utterly fucked.”

“We can’t win in that scenario,” Azriel piped up from next to Cassian.

“We can’t win without their help either,” Feyre said. “This decision is everything. Everything relies on this decision. You really couldn’t get a read on them, Mor?” 

Mor shook her head. “They were careful with their wording and vague. They were certainly speaking the truth, but it meant little.”

“Their mental defenses were too strong to get through without force. But if they are being honest and I break into their minds, we might as well kiss the alliance goodbye,” Rhys sighed. “If only there was another way to get a read on them. I hate going into this blind with only our own faith.” 

The room was silent as they all pondered what this meant for the battle against Koschei. 

“There is…someone who could help.”

Everyone’s head whipped towards Cassian. Rhysand waved a hand at him to continue. Cassian swallowed audibly.

“Y/n.”

That name had everyone sitting up straight. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding. Not until it clicked in his head.

“She can read people’s emotions,” he breathed out. “I… I never thought about her using it this way. I just thought it was good for—well, you know.”

“Just meddling?”

Rhys nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. The room went quiet again, everyone soaking in what Cassian was suggesting.

“Would she even help? You all basically ran her out of this court,” Mor huffed, causing tensions to rise. 

“Not this again,” Cassian groaned.

Mor stood from her seat, bristling at Cassian’s words. “I’m being serious. She has been your guys’ friend since you were kids. And you all left her in the dust even after she tried to tell you guys how she felt!”

When Mor had returned from the continent and learned of you leaving the court, she had been beyond angry at the three males for their treatment of you. She had written you several letters apologizing and you had welcomed her back into your life. 

But she was the only one you still talked to. 

The room was dead quiet. Each of the three males shared looks of guilt and embarrassment because Mor was right. They had completely taken you for granted and cast you aside once the sisters started having bigger roles in their life. And they had let you go without even trying to convince you to stay. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s voice was so quiet, like he hadn’t even meant to say those words out loud. 

Cassian let out a long sigh. “I miss her too.”

Mor glanced around at the other members of the Inner Circle before gesturing towards the door. “I think the boys need to discuss this amongst themselves.” 

Once the door shut behind Feyre, Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I hadn’t realized how much of an impact she had. Things haven’t felt right here without her.” 

“No, they haven’t,” Cassian agreed. “We really did kind of… forget about her. Not intentionally but still.” 

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel asked, looking at his High Lord.

“Have you?”

Azriel looked away in answer, feeling a bit of guilt. 

“Do you think she’s still in the Day Court?” Cassian asked. 

Rhys nodded. “Yes, Helion is quite fond of her it seems.” 

Cassian snickered while a ghost of a grin crossed Azriel’s face. It wasn’t hard to imagine you in Day. You had always been a beacon of light for the group and they knew how easily you made friends wherever you went. It came naturally to you as an empath. 

“Do you think…” Cassian trailed off, sounding a bit insecure. “Do you think she’d come home? If we asked?” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye before she left,” Azriel murmured. 

“We can try but I think we should be honest with her about our feelings,” Rhys said. “I’d hate for her to think we’re just asking her back so she can help us with this.” 

“She’s going to know how we’re feeling anyways,” Cassian laughed. “Remember?”

Rhys grinned, thinking of all the times you had caught them in blatant lies because of your abilities, all the times you meddled with their love lives and friendships too. 

There really was a you-shaped hole in the group now. The three shared a look of guilt. It was a shame it took this long for them to realize it. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Three knocks against the door of your small cottage woke you up. You groaned, sitting up and blinking the sleep from your eyes. You had gone to one of Helion’s illustrious parties last night and had not been expecting to be woken up this early.

You shrugged on a silk robe over your nightgown and made your way to your front door.

Your eyes widened in shock as soon as you opened it, staring at the three males you hadn’t seen in a little over a year. You stepped aside, wordlessly, letting them into your new home. The distance had not made the bond between the four of you shrink, even after all this time, it seemed.

They greeted you in their own ways. Azriel with a soft smile, Cassian with a booming hello and hug, and Rhys was a feline grin and pat on the shoulder. You strode to the kitchen as they took a seat in your living room.

“I need coffee,” you announced. “Anyone else?”

“Long night?” Cassian teased.

“Don’t even ask,” you joked back, pulling out four mugs as they all said yes to your offer.

It was silent while the coffee brewed, and their emotions were all over the place. Nervousness, guilt, hope and regret. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the mugs and set them on the coffee table, taking a seat on an armchair.

“No offense,” you started. “But why are you guys here? I haven’t spoken to any of you in over a year.”

“That’s kind of what we’re here about,” Rhys replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow at them, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he continued. “We…We want you to come home.”

You nearly spit your coffee out. That was not what you were expecting him to say. After all, they didn’t seem very upset when you told them you were leaving the Night Court in the first place.

“Why?” you managed to choke out.

“I’ll be honest. We’re dealing with a situation back home and it made us realize how much of an importance you played, not just in our court but in our lives. We miss you, y/n. We regret how we treated you the past few years.”

“We all just got so caught up in our own problems, we didn’t even realize how much we were neglecting you,” Cassian added with a sincere frown. “You were such a constant in our lives and I guess we sort of took that for granted, assuming you’d always be there.”

“I tried to tell you how I felt,” you murmured, hiding half your face behind your coffee mug.

“I’m sorry for brushing you off,” Azriel said, quietly. “Truly. A lot was happening and like Cassian said, I just figured once we got through it all, things could resume as normal.”

“So why have none of you written to me in the year I’ve been gone?”

“After you left, Mor kind of chewed us out,” Cassian said, sheepishly. “We all just assumed you were mad at us and left because you needed space. I know it’s not a good excuse but well, you know more than anyone that we’ve never been great at communicating.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. That was the reason you meddled so much. To get them to talk about their feelings, express themselves. It was hard staying quiet when you knew how a person truly felt.

“We miss you and we need you, y/n,” Rhys cut in. “Things haven’t been the same since you left. I’m sorry it took so long for us to realize and I’m sorry for how we treated you. You’re our best friend, our sister. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Me either.” Both Azriel and Cassian interjected.

You thought about it, thought of the year you spent without them. While you had started anew, made new friends, had lovers, you did miss them dearly. It made you realize something about the bond you all shared, about your friendship in general. Life changes and sometimes people get preoccupied with other things but that bond you felt hadn’t shrunk, hadn’t grown any weaker. It was still the same as it had been the day you left.

They would always be your best friends, your brothers by name.

And their feelings were genuine. You of all people would know.

“Please come home,” Cassian begged. “I need you--we all need you.”

This house was not a home without the people you cared about. As much as you loved the Day Court, it wasn’t the same. Not without all the memories tied to it. And perhaps this had just made your friendship with them stronger, made you all realize how much you needed each other despite now having more priorities in your lives. You couldn’t fault them for finding love, for building families.

The three of them were nearly holding their breath with anticipation, waiting for your answer. A smile broke out on your face and their shoulders dropped.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll come home. But I’m keeping this as my vacation house and you all owe me a years’ worth of mooncakes when we get home.”

Laughter filled the tiny cottage as they eagerly agreed to your terms. A new warmth spread in your chest. You were finally going home back to your true family. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

[solbaby7]

Burn Baby Burn

part 1

pairing: Cassian x reader

warnings: just a angsty little mess because I just so happen to love the over dramatic girlies with the victim complexes who do reckless shit to get their boyfriends/ex’s attention when they hurt your feelings. sue me.

summary: Cassian’s been busy and you come up with a plan to get his attention back—no matter how toxic your tactics may be

——

“Thinking about heading into the city for lunch, want to come?”

“Can’t,” Cassian bluntly replied, hazel eyes still trained on the paperwork before him—endless reports from the war camps he was supervising, evaluations, incoming recruits and even more paperwork for the ones who’d died in the battle with Hybern. His plate was stretched thin, no time for dates or walks in the garden to admire Elaine’s handiwork. No random kisses and greedy hands sliding down your body for just a few seconds alone in a room or a closet. “I’ve got to get this back to Rhys by the end of the week.”

You nod in understanding, a little gasp sounding when another idea spurs. “Maybe I could just make us something for here? I’ll light a few candles and maybe I can help you get through it quicker?”

He shakes his head, dark hair tied in a messy bun at the back of his head, stray strands falling from its hold to tickle at the backs of his ears and neck. “Another time, sweet girl. I could use the quiet.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is evident and before Cass would’ve clocked it, would’ve put his papers down with a smile as he leaned back in his chair and beckoned you forward. There would’ve been kissing and compliments and achingly gentle apologies muttered into soft skin as his calloused hands grabbed handfuls of your ass. “Well, I love you.”

Tears prick at your eyes when Cassian doesn’t really say it back, just hums in acknowledgement before you leave the room. Self-doubt settles in by time you round the corner to the sitting room, hands shaking when you reach for the decanter and pour a glass so thick it makes you groan as it goes down. You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, willing away the tears because it was stupid and he was busy and it wasn’t really that big of a deal because he loved you; even if he was too busy to say it—or show it lately.

The glass fills once more, this time you drink it slower, a palm bracing on the counter for support as your sort your thoughts, so consumed in your own embarrassment, your own insecurity and dark questions snapped around your brain like snakes begging for a meal, spewing their venom. You don’t even notice the person sitting on the couch, smutty book lowered to take you in.

You still don’t notice them when you finish the second glass, your hands less shaky but the insecurity never leaves and neither do the tears when your mind wanders once more. You fill the glass a third time before scoffing to yourself and snatching the whole decanter and cradling it to your chest with full intent to bring it back to your room and polish it clean. You’re nearly at the door when you hear a page turn and the yelp that emits is comical, body jumping and hands barely maintaining their grasp on all the glass in your hands. “Mother above—you scared the hell out of me.”

Nesta raised a brow, silently surveilling the liquor, the red eyes and frown lines. “Throwing a party?”

A pity party.

“Something like that.” You shuffle from foot to foot, nose sniffling and embarrassment spreading now that you’ve been caught in such a vulnerable state.

“You alright?”

You debate saying anything, fingers toying with the ridges in the glassware, teeth biting at the soft skin of your inner cheek. “No, not really.” There’s a pause, steely eyes expectant and a pointer finger held her page in place as she closed the book in her lap. “I think—I feel like, maybe, Cassian isn’t as into me as he once was.”

“Why do you think that?”

You let out a sigh, falling into the couch across from her, the liquor sloshing in your glass but nothing spills as you settle into the pillow with your legs crossed. “He’s just been so busy lately and I understand that he’s busy—really, I do.” You take a gulp of your drink, suddenly wishing Elaine was up; she was always baking some tasty new recipe for cookies or frosted cakes, pies with freshly sliced fruit baked inside and a wicker basket crust on top. “But Rhys is really busy too and he’s always got time to pull Ferye into some room to get some.” You finally met her eyes when you confess, nose scrunched in disdain. “It’s been weeks since he’s even touched me.”

“And just breaking up with the idiot isn’t an option?”

“Not the first one, no.”

Nesta sighed, some life finally returning to her skin after consistently eating instead of surviving on wine and stale bread in that apartment she used to hole up in. “Then, the way I see it, your only other option is to show him what he’s missing.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, opening her book back and settling her eyes at the top of the page. “Get his attention.”

Your gaze goes distant, hands moving mechanically as you finish your drink, mulling her words over before standing up abruptly. You rid yourself of the decanter, the liquor already settling into your system and warming you from the inside out. “Thanks.”

The whole week, you follow her advice to a tee.

Sexy lingerie with lacy thigh highs, underwear and a figure hugging corsets, nothing but fucking heels and all goddamned week—nothing. Not even a single glance.

Your anger builds and you kick things up a notch, resorting to sleeping on the couch, being sure to take many pillows and the main blanket when you leave but when you return the following morning—there’s no sign that Cassian had ever even come home.

Everything reaches its boiling point during a meeting called by the High Lord himself, the Inner Circle tucked around a large table, the lights dim and air a little stuffy with the incense burning. You’re supposed to be listening, Rhysand’s mouth is moving and the others are pitching in, exchanging words but none of them reach your ears, your eyes focused on Cassian on the other side of the table.

He’s calm—casual in the way he pitches ideas, joking about it being a no brainer for him to be picked on a mission if it involved needing to distract someone with their looks. You scoff before you can catch yourself and while everyone else looks confused, Nesta has a growing smirk in the corner of her mouth. “What?”

“Nothing.” It’s not convincing and you don’t bother to acknowledge the fact that everyone was exchanging glances around you, suddenly clued in on the fact that maybe there was trouble in paradise. You suck in a sharp breath, hands crossed before you on the table as you look over at Rhys. “How about you just send me?”

Rhysand raised a brow, back straight and shoulders square as dark hair fell over his forehead. “I hadn’t considered that you’d want to. You don’t even like Eris.”

“No,” You agree, the word drawled out. “But he likes me and that’s kind of really all that matters if you want this to work right? Someone gets in, procures the intel you need and gets out before anyone suspects a thing.”

There’s a pause and only the crackling sound of the fire fills the space before the High Lord murmurs out a surprised, “I suppose there couldn’t be any harm if you’re offering.”

Cassian lets out a noise of disapproval, face stoney and filled with defiance. “There’s plenty harm—are you kidding? There’s no way she’s fit for the job.”

“A better fit than you.” You retort snappily, hands curling into fists at his words; the blatant lack of faith in you sending an uneasy, bubbling sensation in your belly. “I’m practically shaking at the thought of having one males attention for a whole night. In fact, it would be my pleasure to distract him into giving me what I want.” Nesta lets a laugh pass her lips at your words, not bothering to hide her amusement when you stand from your seat. “If we’re done here, I should start looking for a dress now. Something skimpy and fireproof.”

You don’t have to turn back to know you’d won this round—the splitting sound of a chair breaking against the wall was answer enough.

An hour passes, two—three before a knock sounds at your door. “It’s open.”

Mor enters seconds later, a dress draped over her arm and a grim expression on her face. You’d known her history with Eris; guilt twisting for not thinking about her before diving head first into your selfish plan, too caught up in the moment to consider how your words could’ve affected her. “That wasn’t really like you down there.”

You ignore her words. “I’m sorry about what I said—I didn’t. I should’ve taken your feelings into consideration.”

She waves you off, face still a little pale but Mor doesn’t linger on it too long, either too afraid or too tired to rehash old traumas. Instead she points to the dress in her hand, certainly skimpy but quite beautiful. It was warm, all deep reds and rich golds with diamonds that sparkled like embers in a flame when the light caught it. “You should wear it—not quite fireproof but I think it should fit just fine.” Her shoulder bumps yours playful when she passes you, sifting through your shoes and jewelry to pair with it when she drawls out a, “So, what’s the deal with you and Cass?”

Your eyes roll instantly. “Nothing. He’s a grade A prick and I’m over it.”

She raised a brow, glancing at you over her shoulder, taking in your furrowed brow and deep scowl even as your hands traced gently over the dress. “Over it?”

“Over being ignored and shoved to the side. Like seriously, maybe I should join one of those war camps as one of his new recruits. That way he’ll be forced to at least look at me for longer than thirty seconds.” Your anger feels like it becomes a tangible thing, a bubbling ball of molten lava that burned everything it touched and for a moment, Morrigan softened. “You know what, I don’t want to talk about this. I leave in an hour and I could use a bath—and more wine.”

You stomp off to retrieve just that, disappearing into the bathing chamber with the whole bottle when Nesta rested her shoulder in the doorway, that same little smirk in the corner of her mouth when she regarded Mor. “Just when I was beginning to think nothing interesting ever happened around here.”

Part 2 coming soon

[justauthoring]

the wait // francesco pazzi

request: hello sweetie! i love your writings and im currently so in love with your ‘no reasons to’ serie and your medici’s imagines, and since i’ve recently watched the show and i’m so freaking obsessed with it, i was thinking maybe i could request an imagine (sorry if it’s going to be long lol). basically the reader is from a noble family but her parents died when she was a baby and she was raised by medici’s family growing up with lorenzo, giuliano, bianca and also the pazzi’s siblings……………..

…… also, her and lorenzo fall in love and they have a secret relationship, but she learns soon that lorenzo is gonna marry clarice orsini. and then francesco pazzi, who has always liked her, asks her to marry him. she accepts, mainly to create a stable alliance between the two enemy families. she is reluctant about marrying francesco and of course still in love with lorenzo, that’s why she is hesitant at first with him……… 

francesco on the other side is very gentle and kind, he doesn’t push her to do things she doesn’t want to do (like during their wedding night??) and treats her like a goddess. time after time, she realises that he’s a good person (yeah even though he killed giuliano and did bad things) and maybe she could actually fall in love with him and decide to quit her secret relationship with lorenzo to dedicate herself to francesco. sORRY IF IT’S TOO SPECIFIC UGH. thank you in anticipation! 💗💫💗💫

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 3,376

“You are to be married?”

Lorenzo spins at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening a fraction as they settle upon your own. When your words register within him, a deep frown mares his features and he takes a small step forward, his hand held out in front of him; “Y/N–”

You shake your head, taking a step away from him causing his words to halt. “How could you not tell me?” You ask, your voice considerably softer than it had been before. You feel your emotions peak as the words leave your lips, your shoulders falling with despair as your vision blurs. “This was arranged weeks ago,” you continue, shaking your head. “Your fiance is on her way here and you hadn’t thought to tell me?”

“Y/N,” Lorenzo calls once more, attempting to reach you and this time actually managing to do so. “Please, you have to understand–”

“Understand what?” You argue, your hurt clouding your judgement. You’re upset and angry and you’re taking it out on Lorenzo, with no fault to his own. Yes, he could’ve told you instead of you having to hear it from another, but it wasn’t his choice to get married to this woman; Clarice Orsini. It was for the benefit of his family, you knew that, but still… “That I am suppose to watch you marry and fall in love with another woman?”

“You are the one I love.”

Lorenzo says the words without an ounce of hesitation, closing the small distance that existed between the two of you as he takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling you close. You look up at him with watery eyes, your hands clasping over your own as Lorenzo shakes his head. “Nothing will change that,”

“But what if it does?”

Your question is responded with silence. Lorenzo’s lips part, his eyes widening upon the fear in your voice. He does love you, he knows that. But what you’re afraid of is not entirely impossible. He would like to believe it is, but fate was a funny thing and sometimes you had no control over your own emotions. 

Your heart feels as if it will shatter at Lorenzo’s silence.

“I love you,” Lorenzo repeats, his voice a hushed whisper. Leaning forward, he presses his forward against your own. “Only you.”

At the intimate action, you let your eyes flutter shut, embracing Lorenzo’s touch and his warmth. You know very well that this could be one of the very last times you are able to be with Lorenzo like this, and you bask in it, hoping to never forget the touch of him.

You’re petrified with fear that Lorenzo will fall for this woman, Clarice, and forget all about you. That he will leave you alone with a broken heart. And the worst part is that even he can’t deny it, because he can’t know for certain that your fears won’t happen.

He will be married to Clarice, and even if he continues to see you, the two of you will never be able to be seen in public. Your affair will be kept in the dark, unable to speak of the man you love and of the one who makes you happy. When not hidden behind closed doors, you will have to watch as Lorenzo builds a life with another woman that is not you.

“We can still see each other.”

There are the words. Lorenzo says them in hopes of assuring you, but all they do is break your heart further.

Inhaling sharply, you nod, tightening your grip over his hand. “I know.”

“Nothing will change,” Lorenzo soothes, his voice barely audible. “You are still the woman I desire. The woman I love.”

But for how long?

“And that will never change.”

Yes, it will.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hesitate only a moment before responding.

“I love you too, Lorenzo. Forever and always.”

But will he?

-

You watch from a far as they hold each other close. 

Lorenzo leans his forehead against her own like he had with you multiple times before, and you’ve never felt as alone as you do in that one moment. His visits are fewer and fewer, more less often as he puts all his focus on his family and wife. You can’t blame him, you would want the same from your own husband, but you cannot help the jealousy that burns within you.

The cup of wine is held in your hand with aggressiveness, that being the only thing containing your anger in that one moment. Those around you flutter around the party with wide smiles and laughs, but you don’t bask in any of their happiness.

You’ve been left behind, just as you assumed you would.

It’s moments like these that you think back to when you were younger. The Medici family had raised you as your own, and you’d considered Giuliano and Bianca like siblings. All except Lorenzo. There had always been more between the two of you, and it was only when you reached the young age of thirteen that the two of you finally realized your feelings for one another.

You’d shared your first kiss in his families vineyard and you’d both walked home with the brightest smiles on your faces.

Of course, you knew that your relationship would be frowned upon. You were considered a Medici along with the others, and most thought of you and Lorenzo as siblings. Possibly, you’d always known that one day your secret relationship with Lorenzo would come to an end. You’d never be allowed to marry and eventually one of you would have to, if not both.

You just hadn’t wanted it to be so soon or sudden.

“They seem to be getting along well.”

You gasp, the sudden presence surprising you as you turn to find Francesco next to you. Before, he appearance at a Medici gathering would’ve surprised you beyond belief, but you remember Giuliano and Lorenzo mentioning that Francesco had been going against his uncle and siding with the Medici as surprising as that sounded.

You remembered Lorenzo speaking about a possible alliance between the two forgotten friends.

“Francesco,” you breathe, setting a hand against your chest in hopes of calming your racing your heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he bows slightly, smiling softly your way. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” you assure, waving his concern off with a slight shoulder. “I was just a little….”

“Lost in your thoughts?”

Flushing lightly, you nod; “yes.”

“It is a shame though,” Francesco comments after a moment, and you watch as his gaze flickers back over towards Lorenzo and Clarice who have no separated. 

Your eyes widen upon his hidden meaning. “I, uh, I–…”

Francesco chuckles softly, “it’s fine,” he assures with a soft blink of his eyes. “It was pretty obvious to me from a young age that the two of you held feelings for one another. Despite yours and my families difference, I have never and don’t plan on saying anything.”

Letting out a exhale, you nod, unable to stop yourself from glancing in Lorenzo’s direction, feeling your heart ache in response. “Thank you.”

“I only meant,” Francesco continues, shuffling closer to you. You are not oblivious to his actions, watching him with slight bafflement. “I realize it was not his choice, but to let a beautiful and intelligent woman such as yourself go, well, it is a shame.”

Your eyes widen at his words, once again, and your lips part. Francesco, upon your silence, glances back at you, your eyes meeting his and you feel your shoulders fall at the look he sends you. He holds your gaze with such warmth, such sincerity, and the words had left his lips with almost sorrow. 

As Francesco steps toward you, he clasps his hands behind him respectively, lowering his voice further. “But one man’s loss is another’s gain.”

“Francesco…”

“I know our families have differences, Y/N and I know you do not feel for me the way I feel for you,” Francesco explains, his eyes soft. “But I hope you do not decline my offer when I propose it.”

Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip; “and what offer would that be, Francesco?”

“Your hand in marriage.”

You had suspected so, but still, you cannot hide your surprise. Francesco is a Pazzi and you, a Medici. Long ago his uncle, Jacopo, had decided that the two families could not be friends. Lorenzo and Giuliano had been right when he said that an alliance might be possible. And it was not as if Francesco was a strange to you. There was once a time the two of you were close, friends, before he was cruelly ripped away.

An alliance, along with your sister’s, between the Pazzi and the Medici would extremely benefit your family. That you could not deny.

Your eyes flicker towards Lorenzo’s briefly, managing to catch his eyes for the first time that night. The smile on his face falters slightly at the sight of you, especially next to Francesco, and for a moment, you have hopes that not all is lost. But then Clarice glances your way, and you see the anger and hurt in her gaze and you know that it is not possible.

You want to hate Clarice, but you cannot. She truly is a kind woman, and whether you like it or not, Lorenzo is her husband, not yours. There is no point holding onto a dream that will never happen.

When you glance back at Francesco, he holds his hand out towards you, palm up.

With only a moment more of hesitance, you let your hand slip into his own.

“I accept.”

-

The sound of chattering and cheering and music faded to the back of your mind as Francesco lead you into his home by the hand. You hadn’t been in the halls of the Pazzi home since you were a child, so despite the awkward silence that filled the air between you and your newly-appointed husband, you let your eyes wander across the detailing and designs of the home.

The home that was now your own.

While Francesco remain silent and you find yourself completely unsure of what to say, you still find yourself oddly at ease. The silence is odd, but Francesco holds you hand with such gentleness, as if he’s afraid the lightest touch will hurt you, and even he seems a little tense. A little tense.

This is new and different territory for the both of you. You are both still testing the waters and trying to figure out what it is your life is now.

Not to mention, you find yourself nervous about what will follow in moments to come. Conceiving your marriage the night of your wedding is a practiced tradition, but you have never thought of or looked at anyone in that was other than Lorenzo. There has never been another man other than Lorenzo, and especially not Francesco because you’ve never thought of him as more than a friend. 

But before you know it, Francesco is opening the door to his room, his hand slipping from your own as you step past him. It feels odd, to be stood in his room in light of what is expected to happen and you take your time looking around, fully aware that Francesco’s gaze remains on you, gauging your actions. 

His room is nice, if a little plain. You can’t imagine your life being that bad other than a little tense and hesitant.

You can still envision Lorenzo, at yours and Francescos wedding, watching you intently. Clarice was by his side, the two looking as happy together as ever and yet, he had the audacity to watch you like a hawk as you shared your vows with the man behind you. 

The sound of the door shutting is what pulls you from your thoughts. It causes you to jump slightly, your shoulders tensing for a moment before easing, turning your head over your shoulder to find Francesco’s eyes still intently on you. It is not intimidating or even uncomfortable. He simply just watches you and stares at you with that look in his eyes that you somehow never managed to catch when you were younger. 

Francesco was very open about his feelings towards you. He made it clear that while he has liked and possibly even loved you for a long time, since you were children, he does not expect you to ever feel the same. He is content with you never returning his feelings, which strikes you as both odd but kind nonetheless.

When your eyes meet his own, the light brown in his irises, you feel your shoulders tense. Slowly, you raise your hands, moving them to the ties of your wedding dress and beginning to pull on the ties gently and somewhat hesitantly, thus untying them. Your eyes lower from Francesco’s, moving to the ground as you silently prepare yourself for what is to come.

Francesco surprises you by setting his hands on your own, halting your movements.

You glance up at him with bafflement, your brows furrowing: “Francesco?” “We don’t—…” His words halt, his face twisting as if he struggles to find the right words to say. With a sigh, Francesco shakes his head. “We don’t have to.” He knows you know what he means.

“But—well, I assumed that because it’s our wedding night—“

“I don’t want our first time to be of obligation,” Francesco explains, his words surprising you. Your eyes widen, lips parting with bafflement as Francesco smiles softly down at you. “I want you to want this before we ever conceive our marriage. And as far as I’m concerned, we already have.”

You pause, and Francesco seems to understand the look in your eyes. “And if you never want to, then we never will.”

It is not only the rarity of his words that take you by surprise. It is a large portion, yes. Most men would not care for your feelings and simply force you if you were unwilling. Whilst Francesco makes it clear that even if you never want to be with him in that way, he will never force you nor will it ever change the way he feels about you or your marriage. 

But his words also cause your heart to flutter — a feeling you cannot explain. Your heart wells and your cheeks warm and you’ve never felt this way or experienced this feeling with anyone but Lorenzo that it stuns you. Even more so, because that feeling, the one you’re experiencing, it’s even stronger now than it’s ever been with Lorenzo. 

“I will wait for you.”

-

You continued to see Lorenzo behind closed doors.

It weighed on your conscious both because you knew Clarice was aware and because you suspected Francesco was as well. How could he not be? If he’d caught it before, it was obvious he’d catch it now.

It riddled you with guilt and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it up with Lorenzo.

It was interesting that the feelings you were afraid that would fade from Lorenzo, were actually fading from you. With each passing moment, the desire to be with Lorenzo faded and lessened. It seemed more like a hassle then anything now. And, yet, it seemed, Lorenzo was ever the same. He seemed unfazed by the toll your relationship placed on those you were married to. Even in a moment like this, at dinner with the entire family, Lorenzo seemed simply uncaring.

Francesco sat by your side, his hand on your knee while the two of you chatted quietly with one another and ate the dinner that had been placed before you. Bianca was telling a story of her childhood that had caught nearly the entire attention of the table, but every once in awhile, you would lean to the side and tell Francesco the bits of the story that Bianca changed all in the hopes of making him laugh.

It worked, and for the first time in a long time, you felt yourself truly happy. Sat there at the table with Francesco at your side felt right and you were content.

But then, Lorenzo suddenly stood. He sent a small smile to his family and clasped his hands before him. “I’m sorry, but there is some business I must attend to,” he explains with haste, and you do not miss the look he sends you.

“During dinner?” His mother questions, a deep drowning marring her features. “It cannot be ignored.”

With that, Lorenzo is off. He sends one more look your way before stepping past the door and as you gaze down at your lap, where Francesco’s hand resides on your knee, you know he had also noticed Lorenzo’s look and the hidden meaning beneath it as well.

For a moment, you hesitate. In truth, you did not want to go, but it will only cause more trouble later if you do not.

Making up your mind, you stand up, excusing yourself hastily and ignoring the glare Clarice sends your way and the way Francesco’s eyes follow you out of the room as you pick up the speed in your step.

Lorenzo had not gone too far off, and suddenly, you find yourself enveloped in his arms with his lips pressed against your own. And for a moment, you nearly return the action. You nearly press your lips against Lorenzo’s and fall back into the trap of your youth. But then, and you can’t rightly explain it, Francesco appears in your mind, even if only a second, and you are pushing away. Panting, you press the palms of your hands firmly against Lorenzo’s chest, keeping a safe distance between you.

“Y/N?” He whispers your name with an air of bewilderment, hands still on your waist with urgency.

Avoiding his eyes, you shake your head: “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” Lorenzo’s voice pitches slightly, shaking his head. “Y/N—“

“You’re married,” you interrupt, finally meeting his gaze. “To a wonderful woman. You are so incredibly lucky to have Clarice by your side and you don’t even realize it.”

“But,” Lorenzo’s hand falls on your cheek, cupping it. “I love you. You’re the woman I want to be with.”

“She’s better for you than I ever could’ve been,” you whisper, smiling softly. When Lorenzo parts his lips to argue, you let your hand fall on his cheek, shaking your head. “And I’m married,” you add, a genuine bright smile falling on your lips when you think of Francesco. “And I can’t keep doing this to him.”

Lorenzo just remains silent, stunned.

“I love you,” you whisper, nodding your head as you keep your gaze steady on Lorenzo. “Forever and always. But… just not in the way I did. Not anymore.” Feelings fade. You’d feared Lorenzo’s would, but in hindsight, it had been your own.

“I’m sorry.”

You turn without another word.

- When you returned to dinner, Francesco was no longer there. Upon questioning, you’d learned, from Clarice with barely concealed snide in your voice, one you couldn’t necessarily blame her for, that he’d left shortly after you had.

That’s all it took for you to hastily leave. You excused yourself, letting the door fall shut behind you and mentally hoped that Lorenzo would salvage what little was left with his marriage with Clarice as you went to do the same.

Francesco was in your shared room, as you expected.

You’d barged in suddenly, but the moment your eyes landed on his back, stood adjacent to you, youd halted. The door shut softly behind you, the words you’d been mentally waiting and preparing yourself to say caught in your throat as Francesco’s hunched back regarded you.

“Francesco…”

“I have never gotten angry,” his words take you by surprise. Your eyes widening as he finally turns to face you, lips curved downward in a deep frown. “Never raised my voice or hand toward you. But I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. You sneak off with him, while I watch, when I am your husband. And I love you, that’s why I never say anything. Because I want you to be happy but—“

“I broke it off with him.” The words spill from your lips without thought. You cannot stop yourself after his own, desperate for him to understand that things were different. That he was wrong. 

Your words surprise Francesco, his lips parting.

Taking a step forward, you swallow nervously. “I can’t excuse my actions nor do I expect you to forgive me for how I’ve treated you, but, Francesco, I am happy. With you. Not Lorenzo or anyone else. You make me happy.”

As silence follows your words, you continue to close the distance between you and Francesco. While he stares down at you in disbelief you take his hands in your own, squeezing them as you meet his gaze. “I want to be with you,” you continue, your voice nothing more than a hushed whisper. “I want to be your wife.”

Francesco hesitates a moment before asking; “you mean?” You nod, smiling; “I’m ready.”

Francesco is the first one to instigate it. The moment the words leaves your lips, he doesn’t hesitate pressing your own against them. As if he’s been with years to do this and be like this with you. His arms bound around your waist. He pulls you close against his, your body moulding and curling against his own as your hands run and delve themselves through his curly hair.

Your eyes fall shut with ease, a smile curling on your lips against his, your bodies barely inches apart.

And when the two of you pull away, breathless, Francesco has a smile on his face as he leans his forehead against your own. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

You raise your hand, brushing strands of curled hair out of his eyes as you smile endearingly up at him.

“Thank you for waiting.”

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

[crownofdecitreadingrespectfully]

the amount of times i come back to this fic to feel the pitter patter in my heart when Francesco realizes y/n chooses him I–

[bookishpedia]

Ava: Alex left his multi billion company for me.

Jules: Josh begged me for my forgiveness for days.

Stella: Christian wrote a letter every day we were apart.

Vivian: Dante knelt in the middle of the park and apologized.

Alessandra: *aggressively taking notes*

[dogzcats]

OPHELIA (details)

But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.

[gladerscake]

Y/N: So. I’m in love with Gally.

Newt: Gally?

Frypan: Our Gally?

Y/N: Uhhh, yes? Thoughts…?

Frypan: And prayers, she-bean, holy shit.

[vinyldoves]

Requests <3

asks are open :)

[vinyldoves]

WAITING ROOM

Prologue

The beginning of an incoming Cassian x reader series featuring a throne of glass and Actor cross over, enjoy <3

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

Know it's for the better 

She was falling.

Slipping through the cracks of dimensions as her hand gripped that of her older sisters.

2 nameless girls called to pay the price trying desperately to find their way back home; guided only by the wyrdmarks etched onto Aelin’s back, calling her to Rowan. Her mate. Beth tried not to think about the sheer impossibility of their actions as they free fell. Tried to only think of her mothers voice and the soft, tight feel of her sisters palm. The sister she has thought was lost forever until two years ago. Be brave, wildheart.

Be brave.

They crested a particularly beautiful world. Falling too fast as three powerful mountains taller than those of Terrasen rose up to meet them. There was a fae man stood with his pregnant mate. Fae, but not their people. This was not home. Despite the friendly shield he sent their way to slow them down. Despite the beautiful stars scattered around them. She loosed a gasp at that, the sheer glow and life they possessed.

She stopped looking at Aelin. She Couldn't draw her eyes away from the nights glory until it was too late. Because she was still falling, but there was no palm this time, no defiance of gravity. 

She was falling to the ground, to those mountains and the forest cresting them. She let loose a scream just before she lost sight of her sister and hit this new world. Lost sight of home.

Wildheart 

Wildheart 

Wildheart.

You're lost, darling. You never made it home.

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

Part one coming soon...

[labeillen-deactivated20230524]

AU: You have a daughter with Nikolai Lantsov secretly

(Inspired by Anna Akhmatova’s poem “The Grey Eyed King“)

🎵 Florence + The Machine — Only It For A Night

🎵 Florence + The Machine — No Light, No Light

You are a Heartrender who has a daughter with Nikolai Lantsov secretly; you used to be his mistress for years after the civil war in Ravka ended. When you got pregnant he gifted you a quiet and secluded dacha where you lived with your daughter Irina and where he visited you every month. But then, due to the pressure of the nobility and rumours about his illegitimacy, Nikolai was made to marry a high-born lady to unify the country.

On the day of their wedding it was the first time when Ira had seen you weeping.

After that you never saw Nikolai again although prayed for him every day and night. You were too afraid to hear about a new heir to be born so since then you never asked your old maiden about the news from the capital.

Later you moved to Novyi Zem to start a completely new life and met a man who tried to replace a father for your daughter. He was the exact opposite of Nikolai and you knew you would never love him; you would never be able to love anyone but Kolya. Your daughter was his little copy and resembled him so much, and all her actions, her laughter, her mischiefs and ideas made you smile but your heart hurt.

Everything seemed to be normal but then one day your now husband told you the news that you had always been scared to hear.

“The revolution happened in Ravka. The King is dead”.

It was the second time when his daughter had seen you weeping.

* * *

Anna Akhmatova “The Grey Eyed King“

Blessings to you, the unbearable pain!

Our fair gray eyed king will no longer reign.

One autumn evening was stuffy and red,

My dear old husband solemnly said:

«Hunters brought him all wrapped up in a cloak,

They found his dead body at the old oak.

Pity the queen. He was so young and gay!..

Just overnight her brown locks turned to gray.»

Then from the mantle he picked up his pipe,

And he departed for work in the night.

I shall wake up my small daughter from sleep,

Stare in her gray eyes and quietly weep.

Out poplars rustle as if they deplore:

«Your gray eyed king is with us no more…»

[fiction-is-life]

Secret Santa

Summary: A Good Samaritan helps Y/N and her family around the holidays.

Warnings: Mentions of the death of a parent and the surviving spouse being severely depressed, labor complications, poverty, one swear word

"(Y/N), look at that unicorn! It's so fluffy!!" (Y/N)'s five year old little sister exclaimed while they were grocery shopping, her face lit up with joy. Suddenly, though, that joy disappeared, replaced with the saddest puppy dog eyes that (Y/N) had ever seen. "If I could, I would wish for that for Christmas."

(Y/N) bit her lip as a lump formed in her throat. She wished she could tell little Anna that she could have much, much more than a five dollar stuffed animal from the grocery store, but the fact was that she wouldn't be able to afford to buy her siblings presents for Christmas. Money had always been tight, but after her mom died two years ago from labor complications when her youngest sister, Lily, was born, her dad hadn't been able to provide as well for them, unable to hold down a job due to his grief. The role of primary caregiver fell to (Y/N), and a sixteen year old girl was no substitute for two able and loving parents. They always made ends meet, but living off of tips from her job at the Island Club and money from her occasional extra shifts cleaning Kooks' houses didn't leave enough money for luxuries like presents. And the worst part was that her three kid siblings already knew that, and they couldn't be filled with wonder and joy like others around Christmas, but it would also be cruel of her to fill them with false hope that they would wake up to presents under a tree.

(Y/N) simply squeezed Anna's hand when she had recovered herself and moved to the check out line to see how far their food stamps would stretch this month. Little did she know that someone had heard their conversation.

~

(Y/N) was opening up her locker in the staff room at the Club when an envelope fell out. It didn't have anything written on it, but when she opened it, it was full of cash, five hundred dollars to be exact. (Y/N) almost screamed and her eyes welled up with tears of joy. Sitting inside her locker was also the unicorn that Anna had been admiring so much the other day. It had a little bow tied around its neck.

(Y/N) couldn't believe what was happening. Who was this Secret Santa that had chosen to help her? She couldn't remember anyone being around them at the store. This was too nice for a complete stranger to do, but she couldn't be more grateful for that kind hearted person, whoever they were. She could pay the bills for this month and next with this and the money she had already earned, possibly leaving some extra for a couple small gifts for the kids. She bit on her bottom lip while imagining the possibilities.

She had an extra spring in her step while serving the Club members in her section. She didn't even let Rafe Cameron's taunts get to her when he came in with Topper and Kelce. She also didn't notice that the one Kook boy seemed to be watching her intently.

~

The next week saw (Y/N) plotting how to surprise her siblings. She knew Anna liked everything unicorns, so she thought to give her the stuffed animal, of course, and a journal she could draw in. Her brother, Cole, had been wanting a baseball glove for ages, and Lily would be content with anything soft or fluffy. She figured she would have just enough just as somebody knocked on the beaten up front door.

"Hey, (Y/N), it's Pope! I have a delivery for you." (Y/N)'s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. She hadn't ordered anything from Pope's dad, Heyward. She opened the door to find Pope's arms completely laiden with groceries, and she saw a cooked ham and a box from a specialty bakery on the mainland that she knew to be amazing, and expensive, behind him.

"Pope, where did these all come from? I didn't order them," (Y/N) gasped as she ran to help Pope with the bags. He just shrugged and hid a smile - if anyone deserved to be rewarded for all her selflessness, it was (Y/N).

"The note didn't say, and they paid in all cash," Pope stated, confirming her suspicions that this was also the work of her mysterious Secret Santa, and she told Pope about the first gift that was left.

"Who do you think it could be? I don't have any relatives around here and they seemed to know exactly what we needed, so it must be someone I know," (Y/N) explained.

Pope shrugged again. "Maybe you have a secret admirer."

(Y/N) scoffed, "Yeah, right, Pope. Who with this kind of money would admire me? A Kook?" (Y/N) laughed, trying to imagine someone like Rafe Cameron liking her.

Pope didn't seem to find the possibility so laughable. He had noticed one Kook in particular that seemed to always be caught staring at her when he thought nobody was looking. "Well, whoever it is, you deserve it," Pope stated. "I wish I could stay, but I have more deliveries to make. I'll see you."

"See you, Pope, thank you for bringing these."

"No problem, (Y/N). Hope you can figure out your Kooky secret admirer!" Pope smirked.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. "It's probably some charity, Pope! You're incorrigible," she yelled after him, but he just gave her a shit-eating grin before turning the corner. She rolled her eyes again before going back into the house to unpack all of those groceries.

~

The next gift came on Christmas Eve. She had taken the kids to the town square to see the Christmas tree and all of the pretty lights. She came back to a back porch full of wrapped presents. They were clearly marked with who they were for, and she made sure that the kids didn't go back there so she could surprise them with gifts from Santa along with the ones she bought.

She also tried to analyze the handwriting, and she thought it looked familiar but she couldn't quite place it. After the kids were put to bed, she quietly moved the presents under their makeshift Christmas tree - ie. the vase full of pretty weeds she and Lily had picked the other day with a bow tied around them. Once that was done she went to climb into bed herself, for once excited for Christmas morning.

~

(Y/N) woke up to squeals of delight, then three pairs of feet pounding down the hallway to her door. The next thing she knew two small bodies were hugging her, with a third grabbing onto her ankles as she couldn't climb onto the bed.

"Santa came! Santa came! He brought us presents!" Her siblings shouted as they tugged her to the living room to see the presents she had placed there last night.

"He sure did! Let's open them!" (Y/N) exclaimed, taking Lily onto her lap so she could help her open her presents. Each child was overjoyed with their gifts, and they spent the rest of the day until they went to John B's house to cook the ham and celebrate with the Pogues playing with them.

~

It was as the small family trudged wearily back to their house that the gift giver was finally unveiled. (Y/N) looked up from Lily's sleeping form in her arms to see a frosted-tipped head bending over their doorknob, apparently trying to hang something from it, and she realized that she knew their handwriting from the many credit card slips they had signed at the Club. She stopped dead in her tracks, unbelieving that Pope had been right about a Kook being the Secret Santa. For it was none other than Topper Thornton on her porch, caught red handed doing the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

He turned around at the sound of laughter from Cole and Anna, and both he and (Y/N) could only stare at each other for a while, until even the kids noticed the awkwardness and slipped inside to play with their new toys. (Y/N) still held little Lily.

"So, it's been you this whole time." Her mouth hung open slightly. He looked down, his cheeks burning bright red, and he nodded softly. She smiled the most angelic, beatific smile Topper had ever seen. "How can I ever thank you?"

That made his head snap up sharply. "That is not why I did all this. I didn't even want to get caught; I just wanted you and your family to have a nice Christmas." His eyes burned with intense sincerity, pleading for her to understand.

She soflty walked up to him and teased, "Beings as your plan went awry, I'd like to thank you, so you have to accept it."

He nodded and told her she was welcome. Then, he quickly shoved the box he had been trying to hang on the doorknob into her hands. "This is for you. You should have something special too, not just the kids." If it was possible, he blushed even harder as she opened up the box to reveal a simple yet elegant gold and pearl necklace that was obviously very expensive. She gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Topper, you really shouldn't have," she exclaimed. "It's too much."

"I don't think the same. Not with everything you give to others." Again his eyes felt like they were burning a hole in her soul, until they shifted into a version of the confident Topper she knew when he said, "But if you really feel like you need to repay me, how about we go on a date?"

It was her turn to blush as she shyly nodded, saying, "I would love to, Topper."

[vinyldoves]

USE IT

Shelby sister 

SUMMARY: AT HER LATEST BIRTHDAY, ELSIE REMINISCES AND COMES FACE TO FACE WITH THE ACT OF GROWING UP.

WARNINGS: sombre mood? Other than that I don’t think there are any, message me if you think I should add anything!

Word count: 760

Part of the Elsie Shelby series

Elsie sat silently on the balcony of Arrow house, looking out into the misty night; the sounds of the party, her and Finn’s party falling behind like white noise. Trust Thomas Shelby to host a bloody ball for his youngest siblings' birthdays. 

But she was kind of sick of it. The glitz and glamour. The etiquette. The going up in the world which also somehow meant going down. She didn’t know over half of the people in that room downstairs. Appearance was what they were here for. Reputation and promises of future deals. She wanted Watery Lane back, with all of them living in it. Cramped into the little space and sharing rooms. It wasn’t nice, they would dream of this life. But now they had it? Well, Elsie just wanted her family back together in their old ways instead of being miles away in different homes no longer eating chips on the cut or dancing in the streets on the holidays.

She missed them, and she thinks most of all she dreads growing up. It was all too much too soon, she wished life would slow down a bit.

“Knew I’d find you here eh.” Tommy’s voice cut through the silence as he sat down on the cold concrete next to her, rubbing his hands together and frowning. It was February, and his sister's lips were turning blue. She’d make herself sick at this rate. “It's bloody freezing out here.” 

“It's refreshing.”

“You just don’t want to be inside.”

She decided not to respond, humming out an old gypsy tune into the wind. “You know, I’m graduating soon.”

Her brother nodded his head, “I know.” He said gruffly patting her back a little bit too harshly. He was too used to roughhousing with john. 

She continued on. “And then it's University. Or a job.”

“I know.” Really, Thomas, she wanted to say with a roll of her eyes. 

“You're not getting it.”

He sighed in frustration, pulling a hand over his face, he loved his sister but she wasn't exactly direct was she? He had people to talk to and he was starting to freeze. “What is there to get then eh. Little one?”

“I don’t want to grow up. I want to stay like this forever. And I miss how everything used to be, and everyday is a step further away from that isn’t it?”

Now he was getting it. He felt a tug on his cold heartstrings. He didn’t want her or Finn to grow up either. But they were, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. He sighed and pulled her closer, arm wrapped around her smaller frame as she leant her head on the crook of his neck. “There’s a whole world out there for you to explore El. A whole fucking world you wouldn’t get to see if you stayed this age forever. Thought you wanted to see Paris and America? You’ve had those bloody postcards up on your wall since you could walk.”

Despite everything, Elsie Shelby smiled off into the reminiscent night, “Of Course I do, Tom. I do, I really do it’s just-”

“Just what?”

“I miss us all being together, you know? Eatin’ fish and chips on the cut and playing stupid games in the streets and the party’s on the lane and-”

Her childhood. She missed her childhood, and despite what was waiting for her, what Thomas was excited and terrified for her to see and experience, neither of them could get that time of innocence back. It had been too long and their hands too red and wallets too rich. “I miss it too.” He spoke slowly, catching the flash of surprise on the young woman's features. “But you need to grow up, and you’re right. Maybe this new world isn’t entirely ours but that doesn’t mean you can’t use it, Elsie.” His tone turned stubborn. “And use it you will. Use it to go travelling or to university if you want.”

She said the next part slowly, cautiously, “and if I want to help around more in the family?”

He sucked in a breath, but she could make her own choices, as Poll always said. “Then we can discuss that another time, but for now, you have time to decide what you want. We aren’t rushing anything Els; now go have fun.” He shoved her to the door and back into the warmth of the house, catching her before she turned the corner. “Elsie? We’ll always be here. This family. Don’t matter where you are.”

[vinyldoves]

Would you write a fluff Kaz Brekker one shot where a heist involves someone having to swim in the water and the reader is the best option for it but Kaz tries his hardest for it not be her because he’s in love with her and it combines all his fears (of loving her, of losing her and of the water) but he ultimately gives in to her reasoning/promise she’ll be okay and he’s anxious the whole time and especially when she’s late but it all ends well?

Of course! Sorry for the late reply... for some reason these later messages showed up on my laptop and not my phone which is why I've only just found em :)

[vinyldoves]

ok, wow.... incredible... 😳✨❤️

i just read 'one step ahead' a couple times in a row and... wow, i'm speechless... i really am, it is such an incredible fic, it's captivating and funnand well written and nicely characterized. 💖

you are a very talented writer, thank you for sharing all your hard work with the rest of us. this fandom is lucky to have you! xD ✨❤️

Awh bless you! You just made my day :) sorry for the veryyyyyy late reply (and to anyone else that messaged me) for some reason all these later ones only showed up on my laptop and not my phone (which I'm always on) :)