#he is so immaculate and dreamy and wonderful and his hair and his blue eyes very funny too just AAAAAAAAAw yeash

[hellogoodbyegirl]

Hey did you guys know that he uh... yeah :)

#thank you reelintheyear.com on this day in the year of our lord 2023 #glenn tilbrook #PRETTY BOY ALERT #he sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo #good #my gifs #looooookin #olala mr tilbrook #OOGABOOGAWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #purple :) #he is so immaculate and dreamy and wonderful and his hair and his blue eyes very funny too just AAAAAAAAAw yeash

[aloysiavirgata]

Think maybe Mulder knew Stella from his time in England? 👀

“Hello, Mulder,” she says, in her silk and sandpaper voice. “Fancy meeting you here.”

As though he hasn’t met her here before, as though his subconscious hadn’t sent him this way for her Hitchcock hair and her Hepburn timbre. He hasn’t worn the Stonehenge Rocks hat, thank goodness.

“How long has it been?” he asks, over Phoebe and Diana and Scully - Scully, like a bruise whose tenderness he keeps testing with a finger. He knows, nearly to the month, how long it’s been.

But he asks.

“Back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day,” Stella murmurs. She sips at the rock glass with her mouth like a damask rose. Blouse the color of old blood.

“‘Til he came to the place where the wild things are,” Mulder finishes, dreamy and wistful for the past and the future.

Stella makes a liquid sound. “You look good, Fox. Phoebe still misses you. Phoebe will always miss you.”

“I’m sure her aim’s getting better,” Mulder says.

Stella laughs into the sweet blackberry dark, the fiery gold of her drink. “I heard about your partner,” she says. “She desperately in love with you yet, Fox? Phoebe said she was quite devoted already a few years back, but you know how Phoebe is. A bit histrionic.”

He coughs a little. “We parted badly last time, Phoebe and I.”

“I heard,” Stella says. “Even I know better than to fuck victims, for heaven’s sake.”

She raises her brows for punctuation. Her eyes cooler than Scully’s, more calculating, however big and blue.

Mulder shakes his head. Good old Stella. He knows perfectly well she’d never get away with being so outspoken if she didn’t look like she does. The fact that Stella is perfectly aware of this pleases him. He knows his own Halo Effect as well, has exploited it shamelessly. Stella, like him, is a survivor.

“I’ve missed you too.” She winks for the fun of it. Mulder wonders how many poor bastards are desperately in love with Stella. He thinks Phoebe might have been, at a time.

“No you haven’t,” he says warmly. She is playful, but always honest.

“No, I haven’t.” she admits. “But I do now that I remember…aspects of you.” She makes a lazy circle with her tongue against the inside of her sculpted cheek.

Jesus, Stella! He blushes.

“I heard your partner is a doctor though,” Stella muses, swirling her ice. “I suppose she knows all the fun bits.”

“We haven’t…Phoebe doesn’t…” Mulder shakes his head again.

“Oh. Well. You around tonight?” she asks, direct as ever.

He is, he technically is, and he doesn’t have what it takes to say no to Stella or yes to his longing for his partner.

“Stella…” he says, low, hardening, remembering the sinuous machinery of her body, the way she left him both deeply satisfied and profoundly alone.

She gets to her feet, Detective Gibson, nudges his thighs apart with hers.

Mulder puts his hands at her hips, their roundness always surprising in such a small woman. She is pressed between his knees like a plucked flower. He touches her, draws her close. She smells like good breeding and warm silk and forgetting.

“What is it, Stella?” he murmurs. Remembers the constellation of freckles along her sternum, the taut vellum of her belly.

A whiff of her skin when she leans forward, a kiss of her platinum hair on his cheek. She presses her mouth to his, darts her tongue against his lips. Stella, Stella, this is what he needs to avoid the hard choices at home. Stella like an Akhal-Teke, lean and golden and rare. Riding her for miles.

“Go home,” she murmurs, her sweet, peaty breath in his mouth. “You’re absolutely useless, darling.”

He is stung. “Stella, I-“

“Let’s not spoil the memories, hmm?” she says. “Go tell her.”

“I don’t -“

Stella’s immaculate finger at his mouth.

She leaves cash at the bar, saunters out from between his legs without ever looking back.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #bbc the fall #stella gibson #fox mulder #phoebe green #prompt #all things

[softyoongiionly]

Tinsel and Tourniquets ✨

Yoongi has lived for 727 years and, he has yet to understand why anyone would willingly ruin a perfectly good tree by ordaining it with stupid little trinkets. Hopefully, your holiday cheer is enough for the both of you...

Pairing:Reaper! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, supernatural au

Word Count: 3.1k

Universe: Tea and Tourniquets 

Warnings: supernatural themes, language, suggestive content.

Based on: these asks x x

A/N: Hello and welcome to another installment of Merry Crizzmizz 2019 ! I’m so excited for the rest of the fics and, I wanna thank all of you for sending in your requests, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with. This can be read as a stand alone but, I highly recommend reading Tea and Tourniquets  as it’s based in that universe. Happy Holidays ladz!!!

Back to the masterlist! (click here)

deep  dark, sweet sweet slumber…

God, if he could just marry sleep, Yoongi swears he would.

It’s so peaceful, so dreamy, so relaxing...

He never wants it to end.

He thinks he should get with a few sorcerers and, create some sort of sleep dimension where weary souls, like him, could sleep the years away.

He really doesn’t want to move, he’s never felt more relaxed in his-

What the hell was that?

Yoongi’s brow furrows against his pillow as the sound of laughter echoes up the spiral staircase into his bedroom.

Jimin knows better than to laugh before noon, it’s far too disruptive.  

He decides to ignore it, burying his face further and further into his pillow before the twinkling sound asserts itself through his walls once again. 

Jimin may know better but, you certainly do not.

Yoongi groans, wracking his brain for what could possibly be amusing you at this hour.

Its then, he hears something peculiar, something that makes him sit up straight in his bed,

Is that…the sound of a raven?

What the hell is a raven doing in his house?

He’s quick to get down stairs, not bothering to change from his sleep clothes or tend to the critical case of bedhead he’s dealing with.  

 Yoongi’s confusion only increases when he notices the state of his living room.  

 Why on earth is everything covered in heaps of silver garland and, why are there Poinsettias EVERYWHERE????

 He’s quite sure he didn’t plant any and, they definitely don’t grow naturally out of his walls.

 “Y/N???” He calls urgently, swallowing the bit of nervousness at the back of his throat..

 He would have sensed an intruder wouldn’t he?

 “Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice is loud when he needs it to be so, he’s sure that if you’re in his home, you’d be able to hear him.

 “In here!”  

 He feels a little silly at the amount of relief that washes over him as soon as he hears your voice.  

The sound is coming from his kitchen which isn’t out of the ordinary for you, considering that he’s caught you rummaging through his refrigerator before. 

However, the sight he’s met with upon opening the kitchen door is EXTREMELY out of the ordinary.

You’re standing behind the island on his kitchen, covered in a powdery white substance that Yoongi doesn’t recognize, his usually IMMACULATE countertops are littered with ridiculous items and, worst of all...there are ravens...

Everywhere.

“Y/N! What on Earth are you doing?” He’s flustered, trying to get your attention away from the ravens, which are currently having their fill of a strange electric blue substance.  

They are RUINING his perfectly good crystal kitchenware.

“Yoongi! You’re awake!” You smile, making his heart wobble uncomfortably in his chest, “Merry Christmas!”

Oh...

Not this...

Anything but this...

Yoongi finds holiday’s to be a ridiculous concept.

A day dedicated to giving things away??? For free???

What is that teaching anyone???

“We don’t celebrate Christmas in Beneath...it’s a stupid holiday...” He grumbles, flinching when a raven squawks in Yoongi’s direction, it’s black beak covered with blue frosting, “Why are there so many ravens in my kitchen, I specifically asked Jimin to...”

Jimin’s maniacal laughter is heard then, interrupting Yoongi’s sentence and, although he’s been with Jimin for many years, the sound still makes his skin crawl.

“Merry Christmas my lord, I hope you enjoy your present, I know how much you love the macabre...”

Jimin is suddenly perched on Yoongi’s shoulder, disguised as a raven, winking at him as they make eye contact.

“You did this?!?!” Yoongi roars, shrugging him off, his face turned up in intense frustration, “You know how difficult is it so get rid of the ravens once they’re let in??? I hope you enjoy my company siren because, you’ll be spending another ten years with me unless you get them out.”

Jimin flies off of Yoongi’s shoulder, still giggling as he morphs back into his human form in mid-air.

“No! Yoongi don’t make them go yet, they’re very helpful...look they made this for you.” Your lips are pouted in protest, your hands holding out a silver plate containing a large cookie in the shape of a ‘Y’, “See? Y for Yoongi???”

Yoongi feels his lips twitch because, you kind of have that effect on him but, he withholds a smile and, settles for a smirk as he eyes the plate, “You’re telling me the ravens made this? What did they use, their beaks?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you search your brain for a convincing response, “Well...they didn’t make it all on their own, I helped too but, they were very encouraging...”

He snorts, knowing you’re lying through your teeth but, he can’t find it within himself to argue, “Regardless of their baking skills, they still need to go, there may be only be a few of them now but, I promise you they will attract more of their friends...I don’t want my house infested again.”

Yoongi shoots a pointed look towards Jimin who just smirks defiantly, slinking over to you, “See? I told you he wouldn’t like your cookie Y/N...the lord of darkness has no time for fun.”

When Jimin places his hands on your shoulders, Yoongi feels his blood boil but, right as he’s about to curse Jimin in every language he knows, you pipe up, “Yoongi...I know you probably don’t like Christmas much but...its my favorite time of year and, I...” You twiddle your thumbs, glancing down towards the floor, “I usually celebrate it back home...”

Yoongi feels like the worst being in the observable universe for having called your favorite time of year stupid and, despite the overwhelming urge to kiss that little pout off of your lips, he controls himself and, lets out a deep sigh.

“Fine. You’re permitted to use my home for your cultural traditions but when you are done, everything must be put back the way you found it, especially this kitchen...” He asserts with a stern gaze, his arms crossing over his chest, “Jimin since you were kind of enough to give me a present this Christmas, I’d like to return the favor. You will clean this entire cottage from top to bottom when Y/N is through with her...Christmas..ing or whatever it is that humans do. Understood?”

You swear if Jimin was able to, he’d have smoke coming out of his ears, “I don’t think that’s  fair my lord...” He spits the word, annoyance wrinkling his usually ethereal features, “I’m only trying to keep your human happy considering you’ve done a poor job so far.”

Yoongi wants to rip Jimin’s stupid smirk off of his stupid face, “You’re in soul-correction siren,” He tilts his head arrogantly, “I don’t particularly care if you think something is fair. You can have your Christmas but, keep the noise at a minimum...I have work to do.”

Your heart sinks a little and, you aren’t really thinking as you rush over to Yoongi, placing a flour-covered hand on his arm, “Wait you’re not going to celebrate with us? I thought maybe you’d want to help decorate the tree or...something.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks, his skin tingling where you’ve touched him, his heart doing annoying things in his chest.

“He can’t join us Y/N, on Christmas he moonlights as Krampus...” Jimin pipes up, smirking proudly at his insult.

Before Yoongi can throw another threat Jimin’s way, you speak again, turning him towards you.

“No one should be alone on Christmas Yoongi...please?” Your fingers sort of curve around his forearm and, Yoongi honestly considers the fact that YOu might be a siren yourself because, he swears his never felt so weak around another being.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs out an exasperated sigh, one of his hands ruffling his hair, “Fine, but the ravens can’t stay, they are defecating all over my kitchen...”

At his response, you perk up and throw your arms around his small frame, “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

Yoongi feels an annoying amount of warmth in his chest but, he stays stiff through your display of affection, grumbling when it goes on a little too long.

“What exactly does Christmas include? Other than unnecessary gift giving, which I will not be taking part in…” He insists, brushing off the flour you left on his shirt.

You purse your lips in thought, tilting your head to the side, “Wellll, I guess we can start by getting a tree…do you have an axe anywhere?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “What on earth do you need an axe for? Is there some barbaric human ritual I don’t know about?”

At this, you laugh, shaking your head as you shuffle past Yoongi to gaze out the window, “No silly, we need an axe to get one of the trees down.”

He waves you off, grimacing as one of the ravens squawks expectantly at him, “Shut up…” Yoongi grumbles before shaking his head, “We can’t use the trees from the forest, they are infected with dark magic. But, I suppose…I can conjure one for you…”

Your face turns up in wonder as you glance down towards his hands, “You can do that?”

He feels a sense of pride wash over him, enjoying the look on your face more than he cares to admit, “I literally have the capability to open the doors to different dimensions and, you’re surprised I can conjure a tree?”

Jimin snorts, perching on the countertop, his now violet colored eyes rolling in annoyance, “And yet you can’t get rid of a conspiracy of ravens without my help...”

Yoongi shoots a glare Jimin’s way, “You know exactly why I can’t get rid of the ravens and, besides,” He smirks darkly, “Why have a cat…” With a flutter of Yoongi’s fingers Jimin morphs back into a fluffy black cat, “…if it can’t tend to the vermin?”

Jimin yowls, as he attempts to morph back into his human form but, Yoongi’s magic is too powerful to break through.

“Get to work...”                                                                        

Despite Jimin being a cat, you can still sense the annoyance on his face as he begins chasing the ravens one by one out of the window.

Yoongi turns back to you, satisfaction evident on his features, “Now…where should the tree go?”

With narrowed eyes, you smirk curiously at him, “Why can’t you get rid of the ravens?”

He sighs, gesturing for you to follow him out of the kitchen, his peasant blouse billowing behind him as he walks.

“Ravens signify mystery and divination,” He explains, holding the door open, allowing you to pass in front of him, “They, like many other animals have been persecuted in the name of superstition so, when they find someone like me, they feel safe. As the Reaper, it’s my job to protect them which is why I cannot conjure them away from me.”

You’re intrigued at this bit of information, wishing you could spend hours learning the quirks of the universe.

“I’m guessing Jimin knew about this…” You giggle, eyeing a good spot to place the tree.

He rolls his eyes, “I swear it’s like he wants to stay in soul correction forever…” Yoongi glances around the room before turning his attention to you, “Where do you want this tree?”

With a point of your finger, you gesture to spot behind Yoongi’s loveseat, “Right here will be good, that way you can see it through the window…”

Yoongi doesn’t understand why that matters as the only beings that pass by his cottage are inhuman vessels of evil buuuuut, the small smile on your face is endearing and he doesn’t really want to spoil your time with his pessimism.

“Which kind of tree do you want?” He murmurs, focusing his attention on the spot you indicated.

“Uh…a Christmas one?” You venture, feeling slightly embarrassed that you don’t remember the exact name, “You can pick…”

Yoongi smirks fondly at you, “Fine. Step back a bit, these spells can have a bit of fallout…”

He expects you to move back behind the other sofa but, what he doesn’t expect is for you to hide behind him.

He can feel your small hands bracing on his shoulders and, he desperately wishes your touch didn’t affect him so much, “Watch your face…”

You giggle, your face wrinkling a bit as you brace for some sort of Christmas tree explosion but, instead you hear Yoongi mumble something to himself before, looking up to find a medium sized spruce tree standing proudly at the head of the living room.

“Do you like-“

“ITS BEAUTIFUL!” You beam, rushing over to it to run your fingers along it’s branches, the scent flooding your nose with memories from your childhood, “Can you conjure ornaments too?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion, “Ornaments?”

“Yeah like little things to hang on the tree…oh and a star, we need a star too!” You remember, glancing around the room, trying to figure out if there is anything of Yoongi’s you can hang on the tree.

He sighs dramatically, “Can’t we just observe it in it’s natural state? Why does it have to be covered in stuff?”

“It’s a Christmas tradition Yoongi c’moooon…” You insist, tugging playfully on his arm causing him to roll his eyes.

“Humans are so ridiculous…” He grumbles for the 100th time, waving his right hand over the coffee table before a wooden box of ornaments appears.

You get to work immediately, popping around the tree, finding the perfect placement for each of the little baubles, smiling to yourself as the tree begins to fill up with decorations.

Yoongi steps back, watching you from afar, smirking with a bit of admiration as you get lost in your own little world.

After awhile, when most of the ornaments are on the tree, Yoongi comes up to you and shoves a star made out of shiny silver wire in your direction, “Here.”

Warmth floods your chest as you take the object in your hands, glancing up towards Yoongi’s face, “Thank you…do you want to put it up maybe? I can’t reach the top…”

Yoongi eyes you hesitantly before giving in and, taking the star back with a huff. Rather than grab a ladder Yoongi merely wiggles his fingers and, sends the star floating up to the top of the tree.

As it perches proudly on top, you feel a sense of happiness rush through you. Although, you wish you were able to make it back in time for Christmas, you’re thankful to share this time with Yoongi.

Even though he doesn’t seem as thrilled…

“There. Christmas is done now yes?” He tilts his head expectantly at you; his tone slightly softer than it was before.

“Almost…” You smile before rushing out of the room and, into Yoongi’s apothecary. He’s extremely wary of you entering that room without his assistance but, something about your smile keeps him frozen in place.

As you return, your arms are behind your back, which only furthers his suspicion.

“Ok I know you said no gifts but, I saw this in one of your craft books and I wanted to make one for you…”

Yoongi wants to deny owning any crafting books but, since he’s already been caught he settles for a snarky response instead, “I’m scared…”

A giggle leaves your lips before you nod to him, “Close your eyes and, hold out your hands…”

He feels his heartbeat pick up as he tries to imagine what you’ve done, “I don’t like surprises…” The complaint comes out of his mouth but, he obliges, his large hands coming out in front of him.

“Ta daaaa…” You cheer lightly, placing the object in his hands.

Yoongi opens his eyes to find a small dream catcher, adorned with a few black feathers and, silver beads. He wants to say something mean, he really does but, all he can think of is the throbbing in his chest, the fondness in his heart…

You really are something.

“This should help get rid of those pesky nightmares you have…” You smile, feeling a little nervous at his reaction.

However, you’re surprised when he nods in consideration, flashing a small gummy smile your way, “Thank you Y/N, this is very thoughtful.”

Relief washes over you, as your smile grows, your heartbeat skipping at his expression.

“I’m glad you like it…”

Yoongi returns to himself a few moments later, making sarcastic remarks at your belief in Santa Claus and, judging the tone of your voice as you sing Christmas songs off key.

The rest of the day, you and Yoongi spend time by the fire and, you learn the origin story of Krampus, the mythical being Jimin referred to earlier.

At the end of your third yawn however, Yoongi finally stands, gesturing to the sofa, “You should get some rest. We’ll make the journey back to your family once the snow passes and, I need you to be strong enough.”

You’re feeling giddy at successfully getting Yoongi to spend Christmas with you so, you don’t fight his suggestion, making your way over to the larger sofa.

He blows out the candles and, cleans up a few miscellaneous items around the room but as he turns around, he feels your arms wrap around his middle.

“Merry Christmas Yoongi…” You smile, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before trotting happily back to the sofa.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to touch his cheek, the skin your lips touched tingling underneath his fingertips.

He wants to say something mean….really he does…

“Merry Christmas…human.”

He smirks as you giggle from underneath your blankets before, blowing out the last of the candles and, heading up to his bedroom.

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

The next morning you wake up to find something on the coffee table beside you.

Squinting through the sleepiness in your eyes, you reach for the rectangular piece of canvas to find the most immaculate painting of a Christmas tree you’ve ever seen.

But, it’s not just any Christmas tree, its your Christmas tree…

At the bottom right corner, you see Yoongi’s initials and, the most ridiculous smile appears on your face.

Maybe Yoongi doesn’t hate Christmas after all…

#yoongi #supernatural! yoongi #vampire! yoongi #demon! yoongi #reaper! yoongi #min yoongi #suga #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi drabbles #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts #bts supernatural au #bts fanfiction #bts one shots #bts reactions #bts scenarios #btswriterscollective #merry crizzmizz 2019 #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #jimin #jimin one shots #jimin fanficti #jimin bts #bts jimin #bts supernatural #suga fluff

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Don’t Know Who I Am

Link to song 

Synopsis: An intro to Feyre’s life in the city of Prythian. Check it out on Ao3 here. 

Chapter One: Don’t Know Who I Am

One Year Later

I wiped my hands against my apron as the orders kept tumbling through. Though it was still early in the morning, the coffee shop was packed, and would stay packed until morning rush hour subsided and everyone got their caffeine fix. Then the lunch rush would come right back around and I’ll want to curl into a ball behind the counter and yell at people to leave. This is how most shifts went, usually. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my job.

Nobody wants to make coffee for a living. It’s not some life-long dream that a kid would aspire to. At least, I haven’t encountered anybody in a kindergarten class vehemently wishing to master the art of barista-ism when they grow up. Because making coffee for people is a shitty, shitty job. In some ways, I’m just a glorified drug dealer dispensing everyone’s morning fix.

But it makes the time go by. And it keeps me near Tamlin.

Not long after we moved in together, I wanted to get a job. Though Tamlin had profusely refused anytime I mentioned working, I kept pushing because I couldn’t stay in the house all day. Though I may have given up on schooling, I refused to become a stay at home trophy wife making crockpot dinners and resorting to ‘wine nights with the girls’ as a weekly ritual (because really, that’s just a fancy term for alcoholism to drown out the mind numbing loneliness that would indefinitely plague me). I couldn’t. I needed to stay busy and I needed to stay working, not only to make money, but to feel like I’d earned my place here.

Defining ‘here’ was always the issue. I didn’t know what ‘here’ was.

Here was in our spacious three bedroom apartment in downtown Prythian. Here was designer clothes and weekend galas and two hundred dollar steak dinners. Here was dating Spring Corporation’s newly adorned CEO, Tamlin Ivy, and living the upper 10% life.

Here was…comfortable. Easy. But also completely, awfully wrong.

I’d made no effort to be here, and everyone knew it. Hell, I knew, and nearly saw it written in the mirror’s condensation every morning after my shower. What I’d done, what’d happened… that shouldn’t have lead me to where I was today. No, that should have lead me down, down to the place I really deserved.

Nonetheless, I liked it here. I loved Tamlin and I wanted a future with him, ‘here’ being good or not.

“That’ll be six fifty,” I said hours later as the pale skin man pulled out his credit card in the empty shop. He’d said his order so quietly I had him repeat it twice, and tried to keep my face as neutral as I could when he’d said only a few decibels louder, “Large caramel frappucino, extra pump of hazelnut and double whip.”

He even brought his own cup to hide the monstrosity of an order from his colleagues. I never minded the complicated orders, though. They spiced up the routine.

As the blender sounded off in the shop, and pale frappucino dude moved off to the pickup side of the counter, I turned towards the order station armed with my usual garb. “Good morning, what can I get you today?”

Only instead of blearily listening to another business exec’s daily dose, I paused where I stood as my eyes settled upon the customer behind the counter.

I blinked, as before me stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

I hated saying that—mostly due to my current relationship status—but it was undeniable that the man before me was science’s only known example of perfect genetic combination. With his jet black hair, terra-cotta colouring, strong jawline and eyes so blue they hovered on—on amethyst—I was trying to hide the creeping blush crawling up my neck. Every ounce of him oozed grace and swagger and confidence, from his immaculately fitting suit to his subtle but enticing cologne, and though those things were incredibly sexy—they could also be vile.

And he must’ve seen it, too, because he shot me an easy smirk that’s definitely gotten him laid before. “Good morning, darling. How are you?”

The endearment, the smirk and the swagger, though, are what made me stop short. There were two kinds of beautiful people in this world: the ones who knew they were beautiful, and the ones who didn’t. This guy so obviously fell in the former category, and lucky for him, it was the type of person I tended to not get along with.

Instead of pushing it, though, I merely asked again, “What can I get you?”

Again, that feline smirk. He knew I was avoiding him. “You can get me an answer to my question.”

“I’m fine,” I ground out. “Would you like a coffee or would you like to piss me off?”

The words came out before I could stop them, and for a second I held my breath. I never, ever was rude to customers. Well, at least, I tried not to be, because there was one thing about the placement of Hum’s Coffee: it was on the ground floor of Spring Corp and nearby all of Prythian’s other biggest industries. This meant that the clientele was nearly exclusively office people, high ranking business execs and other prestigious titles—people I really shouldn’t piss off. But there was something about this guy that seemed to set me off today.

Thankfully, the only other person in the shop was frappucino dude, and he was far enough away that the blender faded out the conversation between us.

Except the man before me did not balk. He did not scowl. No, he wasn’t offended at all by my rather aggressive comment. In fact, he… he smiled. A fuller, genuine smile that showed off his white, straight teeth.

“Why not both?” Was what he said, and I fought against the grin that crept to my lips. Instead of answering him, I turned away to get frappucino dude’s frappucino, who was seeming more impatient by the second. Not forgetting his double whip, I handed over the man’s metal mug and he quickly screwed the top on, mumbled a thank you and sped away. Which left me turn begrudgingly to Mc Dreamy who waited patiently behind the counter, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

For the third, and what I decided was my last time, I asked, “What can I get you?”

“Large Americano with almond milk,” he said without thought, as though it rolled off his tongue every day. “And a smile, darling. Dazzling eyes and all.”

My fist clenched at my side while the other punched the order into the computer. Though I didn’t usually asked, my curiosity bit at me and urged the question from my lips. “Name?”

This guy must’ve been a Brad or Chad or Brent. He had that Frat-Boy-Daddy’s-Money look to him.

His perfectly tweezed brow arched in surprise. “Rhysand.”

My head angled to the side, mirroring his shock. Though I guess I shouldn’t really be, because Prythian was full of odd, unique names. Including my own.

“Four ten,” I growled, and he handed over a ten dollar bill. I quickly handed his change back to him and he merely put it in the tip bucket. Though I would’ve normally said thank you and showed my genuine appreciation—nobody tipped baristas anymore—I only turned and dispensed the espresso beans into the group head, thankful that my back was to him and he couldn’t read the seething hateful expression on my face.

Once I put the almond milk away and secured the lid, I grabbed the sharpie out of my apron and scribbled across the top. I usually didn’t take names because of this step, but I figured my shaky block letters didn’t look too embarrassing. And, with the fakest, widest smile I could muster, I slid the coffee across the counter to Rhysand, who merely grinned at me.

Until he looked down to his coffee and read the name I’d spelled out with a shaky hand: PRICK.

Rhysand’s eyes met mine and they blazed with a challenge, shock and… something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Lust? Attraction?

“Have a wonderful day, darling,” he said, and began to walk away, until he stop mid-stride and turned on his heel. “I didn’t quite catch your name, though. No tag.”

I crossed my arms. I didn’t wear my name tag because I didn’t want people knowing who I was or searching me up online when they had no business to, like Tamlin mentioned. And it served me well today, because I replied, “Be more polite, next time, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Next time? Is that a date?”

That blush came back once more. How could he? “What? No—”

“I just wanted coffee, but I’m open to anything you suggest, darling,” he smirked once more as he pushed the door open.

I glared at him and said, “In your dreams, prick.”

“Yes, you will be there tonight, darling.” With one last wink, he was gone.

I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then, I laughed.

A chest-opening, heart-lightening laugh, something I hadn’t done in a long, long while. Thank God the shop was closed, because people definitely would’ve thought I was hysterical as I clutched the counter and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

+

“Medium hot chocolate please, extra whip and chocolate sprinkles.”

“Sir, we’re closed—” I said over my shoulder, but turned when I saw the blonde hair and easy smile. My face, ready to be stern and scowling at whoever saw our closing hours and decided to walk in anyway, melted into a smile as Tamlin leaned onto the counter with a lazy grin on his face.

“Hi,” I said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m almost done. Just have to lock up.”

“Take your time,” he said “I ordered us Chinese for supper.”

I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. American Chinese food was his favourite, and I tolerated it because I knew he liked it. I didn’t say anything though as I fished the key from the back room and locked the cash box and the front door, the bell sounding out its final ring as night swept across the city leaving streetlights and headlights to illuminate the dark. Tamlin’s elbow hooked into mine as we made our way down the sidewalk to the parking garage where his Beemer stood in the reserved parking spot.

The echo of the doors closing bounced off the wall of the parking garage and I settled back into the leather seat, sighing as the muscles in my neck finally unclenched after standing all day.

“Long day?” Tamlin murmured. He reached over the console and grabbed my hand. I hummed when his thumb brushed along the skin of my palm.

“Yeah,” I said, “asshole customers.” It was my usual excuse, but today it was pointed at one person in particular. Someone whose smirk was burned onto the inside of my eyelids by sheer arrogance.

“Mh,” he grunted in agreement. “Had a few assholes today as well. Seems as though I’ll be dealing with some miscreants for the next little while until the deal finally blows over.”

The thing about Tamlin’s business is that he kept things very vague. I knew he managed real estate and invested in other startup companies, but he always seemed to keep what he did private. Not that I wanted to hear about all the legal jargon and property wars, but it would’ve been nice to be involved in some of it. Only when I’d initially asked him about it, he’d just smiled and said, “Feyre, it bores me to tears most of the time. I don’t want to put you through that.”

True, I’d never had a knack for business, but it did interest me. I was in the arts program and wanted to get a minor in business, but my college days did not last long enough for me to actually learn anything of value.

Our routine was nearly clockwork. Park the car in the garage, go to the entrance to the private elevator and ride up to the fifty ninth floor where our penthouse waited. It was weird to call it ours, because I’d never paid a cent towards it, but it was our home. Either he’d cook or Alis made something before she left for the night or we’d both give up and just order in, which happened most nights. As it did tonight with the Uber-Eats person waiting at the entrance to the elevator. The smell of chicken fried rice wafted through the small space as we rode up floor by floor, curdling my stomach with each increment of elevation.

The elevator opened up to the apartment, and the grandeur of it never failed to make me feel like I’d gotten off on the wrong floor. With the floor to ceiling windows, ambient cool lights and modern decor, I felt like I was walking into an overpriced hotel. Like the furniture was for show, not for living.

Tamlin didn’t echo the feelings, even when I’d voice them to him. He only laughed at how ‘quirky’ I was. I reminded myself that he’d grown up in spaces like this his entire life. This wasn’t the South Side anymore where we’d shared a two bedroom with four people.

No, I’d escaped that life. I’d burned away the moment I left that hospital, and I’d never looked back.

We settled in front of the TV and I curled into Tamlin’s warmth, savouring the feel of his arm around me and the smell of his skin, like rosemary and fresh rain. The food tasted ashen in my mouth but I downed it with a glass of water. Tamlin looked into the container and back up at me. “You not hungry?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated Chinese food, so I opted for a half truth. “Not really. I’ll take it to work tomorrow.”

He nodded and his eyes waded back to the TV. “Don’t forget, we’ve got that gala tomorrow night.”

I sighed. “Do we really have to go?”

“Yes,” he chuckled into my hair and set his empty container onto the coffee table before us, “I’m kind of hosting it, so it would be appropriate if I made an appearance.”

“You mean Ianthe and Lucien are hosting it.” I deadpanned.

“Well, yes but—” Tamlin stumbled over his words until he saw the smirk on my face, then smiled. “Look, I don’t like these things either but they’re part of the job description. Plus, with everything happening with Night Industries, it’ll be a chance to get them off our scent.”

“You have a scent?” My brows furrowed. “Who are the Night Industries?”

He waved me off. “Doesn’t matter. But,” he hedged, his eyes dimming, “I talked to Ianthe. About what you’re wearing.”

The breath squeezed from my lungs. We didn’t talk about this. Not in the open; not in casual conversation.

“She made sure to get something longer this time. It should be—”

“As long as it covers them, I’m fine,” I muttered—more like bit out. I couldn’t meet his eyes. He shifted next to me, like the proximity between us was no longer a comfortable, familiar thing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, and he pulled me closer to him. Despite the reluctance blossoming in me, I settled into him again and we found bliss in the mindless activity of staring at an information box.

After a while, though, my thoughts reverted back to the conversation and got caught on the words. Covers it, covers it, something longer to cover it—

Cover up the fact that I was crazy. Cover up the fact that I was off the deep end and everyone knew it, cover up the fact that I evidently did not belong amongst them, cover up the fact that I was a fraud and a liar and a murderer and that I didn’t deserve any of this, that I should be gone like the rest of them—

“You okay?” Tamlin asked from the kitchen. I hadn’t even realized he’d left the couch. I hadn’t noticed the absence of his warmth.

The entire space was open and I could see him standing behind the marble counter that could probably pay for many years’ worth of food for my family and I in the past.

I swallowed hard. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He didn’t answer as I pushed myself off the couch and padded away down to the narrow hall branching to the rooms and our offices. As I passed Tamlin’s office, I sighed, knowing he’d probably be holed in there for the rest of the night. Then I passed my office.

Office was a loose term. There was a desk somewhere in there beneath the newsprint and old bedsheets and paint cans. Art studio was the better fitting name, but seeing as though I no longer used it, maybe museum was the best way to describe it. Museum of the life I’d left behind.

I left my things in our bedroom and pulled my robe from the back of the door as I settled into the washroom and began to strip.

Looking at myself in the mirror was a draining thing.

Which was why I ignored it and slumped my clothes in the corner before stepping into the boiling stream of water. It burnt my skin red and splotchy but I didn’t care as I rubbed a day’s worth of sweat and grime off of me.

And when I got to my scar covered thighs, I paused. Then scrubbed them furiously anyways.

Like that could ever make it go away. Soap and exfoliation didn’t erase fuck up.

Nonetheless I scrubbed and scrubbed until my thighs were raw, and when the water turned cold I slumped onto the shower floor and closed my eyes as the stream fell onto my shoulders. It was the only time where I felt like I had some sort of hold on myself; when the world wasn’t just a blur, and the silence could reign.

“Feyre?” A voice called. “Is everything alright?”

My eyes opened and I sighed, staring at the water collecting on the tiles. The silence never reigned long before interruption. “Be out in a minute.” I called.

The water still dripped from my body when I stepped out into the dim hall and Tamlin stood there, arms crossed, eyes snaking up my body like he owned every inch of it. There was that familiar hunger in his gaze. The one I let devour me. The one I wore when I wanted to devour him.

His lips found my skin before either of us could say anything, and before I knew it the towel was off of me and we were stumbling towards the bed.

Chills trembled across my skin as his mouth came down on me, and I let out undignified sounds when he plunged his full length within me. Thrust by thrust, the aches went away, the pain fled, the silence was broken—the void took a step back and waited patiently as I got my fill. As my thoughts left my mind, and as my mind left this body, if only for a few passionate, glorious minutes of pleasure.

Tamlin rolled off of me after I’d screamed out my climax. I stared up at the ceiling, catching my breath, counting the flickers of light protruding in from the window’s diluted city glow. His weight shifted next to me, and I felt his lips press a kiss to my shoulder before he got off the bed, pulled his pants on and left the room, presumably to resume work in his study.

I didn’t even have the energy to get up and dry my hair. I only curled further into the sheets and made sure my alarm was on before letting my eyes fall closed, and sit back as the void, along with the thoughts, creeped back in.

+

“I’ve got to head straight to the gallery after work so I’ll get somebody to pick you up, alright?”

My fingers fumbled as I neared the ends of my hair I was trying to braid. I lost them and shook out the rest of my hair before starting again. “I can just catch a ride with someone. Or walk, it’s honestly not that far.”

Tamlin waved the thought away. “Don’t worry about it, besides I wouldn’t want you to scuff up your dress. I’ll text you the information.”

I licked my lips and nodded once. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I gave him a grin before we parted ways at our usual location of divide on the ground level of Spring Corporation. He headed for the executive elevator while I headed to Hum’s. The world still slept at five thirty in the morning, but they’d be awake soon and demanding their morning prescription before I knew it.

The day passed in a blur of whirring machines, bills and change and grounds. Sweat beaded on my brow and my feet ached, but I carried on despite the exhaustion wearing on my bones. The fog in my mind seemed to thin out when the rush came in and consumed my focus and attention. But when the lulls came, and I was sweeping around the few tables, my mind wandered. Far. My hands were rope-burnt from trying to reel it back in.

But I did. Because tonight was important for Tamlin, and I couldn’t break down. There was no room for error when your life was centred on appearances. Everything was always good and perfect and lovely, even if it wasn’t.

A familiar face appeared at the door, and I smiled as Lucien’s golden red hair gleaned in the sunlight. He reciprocated the smile as he revealed what he’d been holding behind his back: a hanger supporting what must’ve been a lush gown concealed by black material.

“Is it hideous?” Were the first words out of my mouth. Lucien laughed as I took the hanger from his hands across the counter and set it in the back with the rest of my things. We had a running joke between us about the dresses Ianthe had put me in before that made me look no less than an exotic bird. Some were gorgeous, though, and I loved putting on the lavish materials—but most of the time, they felt like a waste.

“You look gorgeous in anything,” was all he replied with his usual dripping sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and began whipping up his usual: chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon on top.

“So what’s this one for tonight?” I wondered aloud. “New partner? Company morale? Charity dinner?”

At the mention of this, Lucien’s face turned neutral, his stance uneasy. One thing about Lucien that I picked up quickly was that you could always read how he felt by his stance. And now, I could tell he was lying, or hiding something, as he did often when discussing company business.

“Something like that,” was all he vaguely answered. In the past, I may have interrogated him until his ears bled, as he put it, but I let it go. Another charity ball wasn’t going to kill me. My feet and knees, maybe, from wearing the heels Tamlin loved, but not the entirety of me.

Over the whirring of the milk steamer, I called, “I don’t get why we have these anyways. He sneaks off half of the time to discuss with people and leaves me with the rest of the sharks.”

“Firstly, we’re under a lot of pressure right now with our competitors. People are trying to snoop where they don’t belong. And before you ask, you know I can’t tell you anything.” I sighed. The one golden rule Tamlin and I kept in our relationship: work stays at work. “And secondly, they are not sharks, Feyre.”

“They damn well might be,” I countered. I removed both tea bags from the piping water and poured the warm milk into it, the spicy scent caressing my senses. “They’re all numbers and business and exponential growth. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Ianthe will be there,” Lucien supplied, licking his lips as I sprinkled copious amounts of cinnamon atop the foam of his drink. “And Bron and Hart.”

“They have eleven brain cells combined, if that.”

Lucien shot me a pointed look as I slid the drink across the counter to him. “That’s six more than you’ve got, Fey.”

I bit back a grin as I shoved his shoulder from across the counter. “Get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tonight. Clean yourself up a little.”

I didn’t have time to bite back a retort before the door closed behind him. Clean yourself up, I scoffed. I had my makeup kit in my bag. And I showered last night. I looked fine.

Probably not as dashing or pristine as Ianthe will, but my hair’s clean. And I smelled good. That right there was the height of my presentability.

The clock ticked closer and closer to five, the end of my shift. There usually wasn’t many people past five, seeing as though Hum’s wasn’t much of a student-oriented establishment. The last hour was always the longest, watching as every second brought me closer to the gala. My stomach felt like it was crawling. I hated these events.

The door opened along with the chiming bell, and my head snapped up from my phone to see an all-too familiar face already set in a smirk. Only this time, his suit was immaculate, even more so than yesterday’s, and his hair was parted differently, gelled back with little dangling strands around his face that brought out he midnight blue of his eyes.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to face this prick again, but damn was he so good to look at.

“I should put your picture up on the board with the rest of the banned customers.” I said as I turned to the espresso machine. I hated that I remembered his order. His eyes even showed surprised as I pulled out the almond milk and boiling water for his Americano.

“Wouldn’t you love to stare at me all day long?” He mused. “They better keep that board near the front so you don’t hide back there all day looking at me. Maybe tape it right here to the cash register.”

“Prick,” I murmured under my breath. I didn’t want to meet his eyes, and I didn’t want to seem like I had any interest in what he did whatsoever, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why the expensive suit today? Hot date?”

“All of my suits are expensive. And unless there was a date and time written on the bottom of my cup yesterday, I don’t recall you asking me out.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, screw you.”

“You wish.”

My cheeks were probably the colour of traffic lights as I poured the almond milk into his coffee. “Four ten.” I ground out.

“Where’s that dazzling smile today, darling? Really, you must give me your manager’s contact information. I demand better service than this.”

“I’ll read it out to you: 514-829-suck my dick.”

Rhysand stood before me, a startled look on his face, like he couldn’t believe the words I’d just said.

I couldn’t believe the words I’d just said. This man was rich. Probably high, high up in the corporate rank. A phone call from him to anybody’s boss would definitely get them fired.

But he let out a startled laugh. A full, rich laugh that only made me swallow hard.

And bite back a smile.

“Four ten,” I said once again, and he only handed over yet another ten dollar bill. He didn’t even acknowledge my hand when I gave him his change and I begrudgingly put it in the jar.

But he didn’t leave. No, he stood there in front of me sipping his coffee like this was a normal, casual thing we did.

“You make a killer coffee, darling. Really.”

“It’s just an americano,” I scoffed. I turned and began wiping down the espresso machine and milk steamer. But really I was hiding the blush on my cheeks. God, look at me. Gawking over a stranger because they complemented me. An annoying stranger at that. One that knew exactly how to get under my skin.

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than flirt with baristas?” I threw over my shoulder. He still wouldn’t leave, despite the silence between us.

“Yes of course I do, but flirting with you is by far the most enjoyable.”

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know my name.”

“You could easily fix that by just telling me.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Darling, I just don’t think it’s fair. You know my name. All the mystery is demystified. You’ve got the upper hand. Help me out a bit, here.” He shot me a pout and those brooding eyes, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I pointed to the clock.

“We’re officially closed, and I don’t have to put up with you anymore.”

He only smirked and began walking away from the counter with that same graceful swagger. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning bright and early, darling.”

“There’ll be a restraining order by then!” I called back.

The door swung shut with the chiming of the bell, and I sighed.

I told myself the smile on my face wasn’t because of him. But I was never really a good liar.

+

The gown wasn’t hideous. Hideous was too strong a word.

I was just grateful, though, that my scars stayed out of view. Last time, things got…ugly.

Nonetheless, it sure as hell wasn’t my style. I sighed as I walked up the avenue, chiffon balled tightly in my fists, and tried to calm my nerves as I saw the pillars to the Prythian art gallery crawl into view. The lights they’d set up made the entire white-marble building seem like a dream. The gala tonight was for company morale, a sort of way for all of them to clap themselves on the back for the hard work they’d done. I’d lost count of how many I’d attended since I’d known Tamlin.

Usually I could nose my way out of them. When I was in school, before the accident, it was easier to use that out and have a night to myself in the apartment. Now that I was only working at Hum’s, I didn’t have any excuse anymore.

Every step ached in the heels. This was going to be a long night.

The bouncers didn’t even need to ask for name as I walked in the main front doors. The lobby was teeming with people I didn’t know, most likely all of them employees or people from business circles. Faces swam in and out of view, and I felt like I’d seen many of them before, but without Tamlin at my side I had no reason or courage to approach them.

He could’ve been anywhere. I had no idea where to even start looking.

The dinner was at seven, so I supposed I had a few hours to kill. I glanced over my shoulder for a moment then weaved my way to the back of the room where the museum branched off into different wings. Tamlin did pick the best venues, I had to concede. Always something for me to distract myself with.

This month’s exhibition was Paris’s post-impressionism era in the 1900s. Arguably my favourite period in art, the museum was lucky enough to snag some lesser-known Van Gogh and Monet. There was one piece, an early morning sunrise flecked with pinks and oranges that caught my eye. I stood before it, staring at the brushstrokes and blending of colours and hues, amazed. My fingers itched. I wanted to memorize the colours to memory in hopes that I could ever possibly recreate such a piece.

Before I realized it, I looked down at my fingertips and took a step back from the piece. I wanted to paint. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in so long.

It’d been months since I’d painted. Tamlin wanted me to keep painting, said it would be good for me, but that studio haunted me. I couldn’t go back. There was nothing left for me in there.

One thought of trying to mix the red and white had me exiting the the showroom. Tears burned behind my eyes, and the last thing I needed right now was to make a scene at Tamlin’s party.

After a while of meandering, drinking alone and making several trips to the washroom to check my half-assed hair and makeup, Tam’s blonde hair came into view and it was seven o’clock.

His arm slid around me, too tight, and the easy grin on his face didn’t reach his eyes. “Where’ve you been? You’re late.”

“I’m late? Where have you been?” I retorted lowly. “I’ve been here looking for you for hours.”

“Have you been talking to people?”

I remained silent. The round tables were amply decorated with flush, exotic flowers that probably cost my yearly salary. Everything was gold-trimmed, pastel and proper, the usual colours of Tamlin’s personal assistant’s palette.

Tamlin ground out, “You can at least try, Feyre. For me.”

“I have been for the past year.” I snapped.

It was all we had time to say to each other before somebody came to shake Tamlin’s hand and bellow some inside stock-trading joke I didn’t understand before bursting into laughter. They followed us until we reached our table, right near the front of the room before the stage. Lucien and Ianthe were already seated, the former looking pale and tense.

He shook his head when I shot him a questioning look. When it came to Ianthe, Lucien was always tense.

The night passed by dreadfully. Making conversation was painful. Ianthe and Tamlin had plenty to talk about, though, with the drama in their elite circles that I didn’t care enough to be a part of. I’m sure most of the people here tonight were kind and interesting and wonderful people, but there was still that innate part of me that clung to the belief that most businesspeople were sucked dry of their souls.

I looked to my boyfriend. Most being the operative term. Not all.

Tamlin, though, began to grow tense. His head kept bouncing to the back of the room to a set of doors. His leg was bouncing beside me. It was so bad I had to put my hand on his thigh to calm him down. He put his hand on top of mine and shot me a grateful look, and I kissed him on the cheek. I knew he hated these things too.

Lucien looked to Tamlin. “Have your friends showed up yet?”

Tamlin shook his head. “Any minute.”

“What friends?” I wondered. I knew most of Tamlin’s friends and business partners. They were all neatly classified under the rich white guy identification part of my memory.

He shook his head, though. “You haven’t met them. You don’t want to meet them. They’re not necessarily good friends.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you in trouble? Is something wrong?” Nervousness bloomed in my stomach. We couldn’t repeat last time. We really, really couldn’t repeat everything that happened last time.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured in my ear. I sighed but leaned into his warmth anyways. Then suddenly he was up, and I scrambled to stay seated without falling out of my chair from the abrupt loss of contact.

“I’ll be right back.” He declared before storming off to the set of doors off to the east wing of the gallery. There were three sets of feet. My stomach grumbled. Everything about this was off.

I looked down to my plate and couldn’t finish it. Too rich. Too buttery. Everything, it was all closing in: the people, the finery, the utter lack decency…it was like being completely and truly alone in a room full of people. At a table filled with friends.

Lucien laid a hand on my shoulder. “Fey? Are you okay?”

“I need some air,” I muttered, before stalking out to the gallery’s main lobby. I stared at the map before throwing myself into the twisting hallways, and cursing myself for wearing high heels as I climbed stair after stair. But finally, I found myself on the gallery’s rooftop, looking out over the water of the Sidra and wishing I was anywhere but here.

Only I wasn’t alone.

I nearly flinched when I saw who it was leaning across the building’s cement lipped edge. The city lights made his face seem older. Deep-set. Like life had dealt him yet another shit hand and he was wondering whether to go all in or just fold.

I mean, I was near the point of folding. I really, really was.

Especially since I thought I was going to finally get some damned peace, yet now I had to face this prick. For the second time today.

“Stalking me, darling?”

“Could say the same for you, creep,” I called across the landing. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Apparently in the mere hours we’d been apart, life had taken a wrong turn for him. Probably didn’t happen too often judging by the look on his face.

“All dressed up. Tell me, what are you doing here darling? You look like a minnow in a sea of sharks.”

I scoffed. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with questions?”

“Are you going to keep asking me questions I don’t want to answer?”

Rhysand’s gaze held mine. We were only feet apart, but it was like a current ran between us. My mouth, puckered in a frown, only ignited the ever-lasting amusement in his eyes. That same electric, tension-filled feeling I felt in the coffee shop, like I didn’t know whether to throttle him or run my hands across his chest.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe I’d just thought of that. I brushed it away, telling myself just because I wasn’t ordering didn’t mean I couldn’t look at the menu.

Admitting defeat, my stare broke from his. Instead, I took position leaned against the cement railing, and marvelled at the city, the sea of lights and beauty before us.

Before I knew it, Rhysand was beside me, the arm of his expensive suit nearly brushing mine. The warmth nearly leeched from his toned body. I wanted to press myself into him as the breeze flew over us, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m not gonna lie, darling, I’ve had a shit day.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know. But I’m going to talk anyway. Because I need someone completely objective to discuss with.”

The silence stretched on with my muteness. Half of me wanted to listen, half of me wanted to walk away before I was in too far over my head.

“You know when everything feels like it’s stacked up against you? Like nothing more could possibly go wrong, and then you turn around and it does?” He sighed. “I blink and days go by. I have no idea how I get here; half of the time I have no idea how I even get out of bed. It’s like I’ve made my way here to the top, I’ve got everything I could imagine.” The rush of the city cars filled in the quiet between us as he paused for a moment. “But I’m still fucking empty inside.”

I told myself it was the breeze that sent the shiver down my spine. Not the aching feeling I had as he said those words, as he described everything I’d been feeling over the past year of my life.

Then Rhysand chuckled. “By the Cauldron. I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy.” His breath fogged as he laughed again. “Guess I’ve got to find myself a new coffee shop.”

“No,” I replied instantly. His eyes flicked to mine, the surprise only presenting itself with the gentle up-flick of his eyebrows. “No. I know how you feel. I get it.” I cleared my throat. “It’s either completely normal to feel this way, or we’re both anomalies.”

“Honestly, I hope it’s the latter. I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like those people milling around downstairs. But here I am, fraternizing among them like we’re old friends.”

I shrugged. “Whatever keeps the roof over your head and food on the table.” I knew too many days with food on the table to deny that the money we had was extremely comforting.

He grinned, but it was sad. Morose. “That’s one way to put it.”

More silence ensued, but it wasn’t awkward. It was…peaceful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out on Tamlin and I’s balcony at home just to watch the world spin and move and whirl around me. Most definitely because I couldn’t trust myself on a balcony anymore. My mind was a thing of its own; moving in toxic ways the rest of me balked at.

“How long have you been a barista?” Rhysand wondered softly.

“A year,” I supplied, “can’t go back to sugary drinks now, though. Not after all the shit I see going into them.”

He chuckled, and I asked, “How long have you been empty on the inside?”

This time, the smile was full and bright, and it did reach his eyes. Rhysand said, “My entire life, darling. My entire damned life.”

“Well—”

The sound of metal screeching interrupted me, and a breathless voice called, “Feyre?”

I whipped around to see Lucien there, hand on his knee hunched over, trying to catch his breath. My heels echoed across the rooftop as I jogged towards him without toppling over. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” He sneered. “Why are you speaking with him?”

I wrinkled my nose and turned back to Rhysand. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lucien said, but threw a look Rhysand’s way nonetheless. A look about as unfriendly as they go. “We need you downstairs, Fey. Let’s go.” And with that Lucien began pounding down the stairs.

But I looked back at Rhysand. He only waved lazily my way, and called, “Until next time, Feyre darling.”

I bit back my smile as I in turn began thundering down the stairs. Prick.

+

It appeared as though the banquet went smoothly considering the near empty glasses—being quickly refilled—and the laughter-filled, red-tinted faces that beamed as Tamlin took the stage. Under the lights, his golden hair looked smooth and gleaming where it fell naturally down to his ears, and his tuxedo highlighted his muscled body in all the perfect places. His face was flushed as well, and I knew we’d have to call an Uber tonight by the looks of it. I’d never learned how to drive—never needed to with public transportation and Tamlin—which meant me driving home was out of the question. Better to put Tamlin at the wheel despite the state he was in than to even attempt letting me near the driver’s seat.

“As you all know, tonight is a celebration of the success of this company, of which you’ve all contributed immensely to, thanks to your handwork and dedication to our mission.” Applause erupted, and Tamlin’s smile brought my own grin to my face. To see the pride in his face…I knew despite all the complaints and exhaustion, he still liked what he did.

“Spring Corporations has never seen better days, and for that, you all have my utmost gratitude and admiration.” More applause, to which Tamlin patiently waited to pass before adding, “but tonight is more than just our corporate success.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. What else could Tamlin have to announce?

“Personally, things have been hectic. It’s been a good, prosperous year, but that doesn’t come without life’s ups and downs.” His eyes wandered through the crowd, until they finally befell me, and his eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my boyfriend so content. “Life has thrown a lot of ups and downs at me, and I wouldn’t have been able to handle them without my girlfriend.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. Oh Gods. I had no idea where he was going with this.

Scratch that, I knew exactly where he was going with this, and it made me nearly sick to my stomach.

“Feyre Archeron,” he said, “you are the true one and only love of my life. There’s nobody, no one else on this earth that brings me joy and understands me like you do.”

Tamlin took the microphone, and murmurs began spreading across the crowd as he wandered down the steps right before our table, right before me.

I wasn’t breathing.

Tamlin got down on one knee, and joyful gasps echoed through the room. With one hand, he fished a dark velvet box from his inner suit pocket, and cracked it open to present the largest emerald stone I’d ever seen, set onto a golden band. So typically Tamlin that I grinned.

“Feyre,” he murmured into the mic, his golden eyes brimming with silver as we stared at each other, “will you marry me?”

Fear paralyzed my body, yet I still choked out, “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

The microphone screeched but I didn’t care as I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, sealing our lifetime together, with a little voice in my head echoing, There’s no going back now.

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #sjm #feyre #rhys #feysand #feyrhys #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

“Lutece!” Banrai cried.

“Banrai!”

“Lutece?” Dreamweaver said again.

“Dreamweaver!”

“Lutece!” Myrtle exclaimed.

“Myrtle!”

“Lutece!” Phantasos declared.

“All right,” said Dreamweaver, “that’s enough of that.”

Lutece laughed, and to a crowd of cheering bystanders, leapt from the side of the ship. Dreamweaver clutched Banrai’s arm tightly, their hair growing wild with panic, but Lutece landed before them with all the grace of his lovely mother. (Although they thought he more closely resembled his reckless father, in a number of ways.)

“Delphine and Corentin’s boy,” Dreamweaver said, and immediately pulled Lutece into an embrace equal parts warm and crushing. “I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to see you again, dear one. It’s been far too long.”

“I wanted to come back sooner,” Lutece insisted, “but I thought I ought to get established first--augh!”

“You--didn’t--visit!” Phantasos chided, lifting Lutece off his feet with ease. “You--didn’t--write! You were my first love, you know? You said you’d never forget me, and then you ran off to the Shifting Expanse for two cycles!”

“Am I still your one and only?” Lutece asked.

“Eh, you were taller than me then,” Phantasos replied (Dreamweaver could tell that Lutece wanted to point out Phantasos’ ability to change his height at will, but wisely kept it to himself), “and you could beat me in a wrestling match. I’m pretty sure I’d wipe the floor with you now.” He swung Lutece around, then set him back on his feet. “Case in point.”

“So that’s how you choose your drakes,” Lutece teased.

Looking at him now, Dreamweaver could hardly believe he was the same little Lutece they had known so long ago. He’d grown into a fine young drake, with wild eyes and calloused hands. They recalled him as quiet and shy, always found in the shadows of his peers, but now he kissed Phantasos’ cheeks without a hint of bashfulness, almost seeming to revel in the attention.

Their expression softened, and they guided Lutece back to them (much to their son’s chagrin), brushing the hair out of his face. “You’ve come into your own,” they said. “The Shifting Expanse did you some good, I see.”

“You’re not really allowed to be timid over there,” Lutece replied with another laugh.

“What brings you back?” Banrai asked. “Not that we aren’t thrilled to have you, but I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

“Not at all!” Lutece assured. “I’d always meant to come back! Maman and papa have gone into exaltation, my siblings all have lives of their own, business is booming, and so I thought now was the perfect time!”

Lutece cleared his throat, and Dreamweaver saw a shard of the boy he’d once been in the way he cast his gaze downward. “I wanted to come home once I’d made something of myself,” he confessed. “I couldn’t show my face if I had nothing to offer...”

“Oh!” Dreamweaver took his hand in theirs. “That doesn’t matter,” they said, “we’re just happy to have you back!”

“Stop,” Lutece whined, “you’ll make me cry.”

“We’re the ones who should be crying,” Banrai said, and slung an arm around Lutece’s shoulders. “When we last saw you, you were no bigger than Morpheus and Phobetor.”

“Speaking of...”

Phantasos gave a shrill whistle, and the twins came to him--Morpheus tumbling head-over-heels, Phobetor with their hands shoved in their pockets. Phobetor gave Lutece a thorough examination before asking, “Who’s he supposed to be?” in just about the rudest tone they could manage.

“Brat,” Phantasos jeered, but before he could tug on his younger sibling’s ear, Phobetor had scurried out of reach. “He’s your elder, so show some respect.”

“Respect is earned,” Phobetor retorted.

Dreamweaver smirked. “You’ve taught them to be a bit too independent, haven’t you, Phantasos?”

“Hullo, Mr. Lutece!” Morpheus said, and thrust out their hand for Lutece to shake--which he did, very graciously. “I’m Morpheus, and that’s Phobetor! We’re Phanny’s little siblings!”

“Th-they’re yours, founder?” Lutece stammered. “But I thought...”

“They were even more of a happy accident than Phantasos,” Dreamweaver replied. “We never expected to have another successful pregnancy, let alone twins. Morpheus, Phobetor, Lutece was born in the territories, and now he’s come back; you can trust him.”

“Why’d he leave in the first place?” Phobetor asked, crossing their arms over their chest and jutting out their chin.

“My father was a mechanic.” Lutece squatted, and Phobetor’s bravado wavered. They took a step back, dragging Morpheus with them. “Feldspar wasn’t exactly technologically inclined in those days,” Lutece elaborated, “so him and my maman--that’s my ma--picked up the whole family and moved us out near the Lightning Farm.”

“Don’t let Phobetor’s cold welcome get to you,” Banrai said, “they just take Dreamy’s lessons about ‘stranger danger’ to heart!”

“Bet a ride on Cloud Nine’ll change their tune.”

Phobetor crinkled their nose, but Morpheus peered from behind their sibling’s shoulder with wide eyes. “What’s Cloud Nine?” they asked, their little fingers fidgeting with Phobetor’s shirt.

“My illustrious and esteemed vessel.” Lutece winked. “Want a tour?”

“Really?! I can go aboard?!” Their uncertainty all but forgotten, Morpheus bounded forward to yank on Dreamweaver’s sleeve. “Dede, please, please let us go!”

“What ‘us?’” Phobetor grumbled.

“You’re coming and you’re gonna like it!”

“That’s what you meant by ‘established?’” Dreamweaver turned to survey the airship, once more marveling at its great size and immaculate artistry. Now that they looked closer, they could see its name carved into its side in bold letters: Cloud Nine. “You’re a pilot?”

“Pilot,” Lutece replied, “and captain, and navigator, and mechanic--although I leave most of the technical stuff to my business partner!”

“Business partner?”

“You didn’t think I did all this on my own, did you?” Lutece snorted and rolled his eyes. “Shasta’d kill me if I didn’t give her equal credit--or, actually, majority credit, seeing as she’s the one who designed ol’ Nines. We’ve been working together for, oh, a full cycle now, I’d reckon.”

“Is she cute?” Phantasos asked, nudging Lutece playfully in the ribs.

“Sure,” Lutece replied, “but I’m not really her type. She’d date Dreamweaver before she dated me.” Grinning mischievously, he nudged Phantasos in return, hard enough to make the young heir double over. “We’re thinking about nesting, though, since we both want kids ‘n all. That’s another reason I came back; no better place than Feldspar to raise a family.”

“My spleen,” Phantasos wheezed, “my gallbladder.”

“Those aren’t on the same side, Phantasos,” Myrtle said. “Isaiah would be very disappointed.”

“Hey, you lazy son of a bitch!” As one, the group looked up to where another figure now stood, leaning over the very railing Lutece had leapt from. Judging by the blue-green feathers along her neck, she was a Coatl--and not a happy one. “I know you like playing at being a rogue without a cause,” she spat, “but we need every hand we can get up here!”

“Shasta,” Lutece hollered back, “these are the founders and their children! You should come and greet them!”

“Are you off your fuckin’ block?!”

“Well,” Lutece said, “if she won’t come to you, I suppose I’ll have to bring you to her.” Timidly, painfully so, he offered his arm to Dreamweaver, and they were struck again by how much he had grown, and yet how little had changed. “If you’re amenable,” he went on, “I’d like it if I could give all of you the grand tour.”

Dreamweaver smiled. “I would like that too.”

@nostlenne  @serthis-archivist @airris-fr @reanimatedfr @jollyroger-fr @megane-pigeon @griminal-rising @windkissesfr

#flight rising #fr #zach writes #clan feldspar #feldspar lore #c: lutece #c: shasta #c: dreamweaver #c: banrai #c: myrtle #c: phantasos #c: morpheus #c: phobetor

[padfootagain]

Ever After… (III)

Part 4 : Lionheart

It's this day again. Yes, this day when everyone in our fandom mourns James and Lily… And you all get me so depressed!

But fear not, here I am, with the fluffiest fluff you will get on this Halloween. You are welcome.

And I also wish you a very warm welcome to my little bubble of denial. You'll see, it's very comfy around here, feel free to stay for a while :)

Just like the rest of this series, this chapter is independent from the other fics I've written and collected under the 'Ever After series', so no need to have read the rest to warm your heart with some well-deserved fluff ;)

Here we go, Jily at 99% and a tiny bit of Blackinnon and the Marauders being hilarious and adorable… Enjoy :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 5097

This was probably his favourite sight. Red hair bathed in the early light of a bright morning. Naked feet on the wooden floor. A pair of green eyes laughing and shining more brightly than the lazy sun outside. Cheeks stained with light freckles. A graceful frame wrapped in one of his Quidditch T-shirts…

The smile on James's face was dreamy but no less wide. As he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his glasses lopsided on his nose, standing still, he wished he could freeze time for a little while. Spending his life watching his wife in such a simple and yet sweet moment was enough for him, he would have never asked for anything else.

And yet… yet life had granted so much more. Three wonderful children he loved with all his heart, the most loyal and ridiculous friends a man could wish to have… James Potter had always considered himself lucky, but he had to admit that adulthood had proven to him that he was indeed an atrociously lucky man.

Lily seemed to finally notice his presence behind her, and she turned to him fully, welcoming him with a warm smile.

She was about to wish him a good morning as he strode in the kitchen, but she was shushed by a pair of eager lips pressed against hers instead. She couldn't refrain a chuckle despite James's kiss.

"Wow… what a warm way to say 'good morning'!" she joked.

James wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer to him.

"My beautiful wife deserves the warmest 'good morning' possible."

"Is that really the best you've got then, Potter?" she asked back in a flirtatious tone that made James chuckle.

"You know that it's never a good idea to challenge me, Potter," he replied with a darkest glint in his hazel eyes, although it didn't diminish the tenderness in his gaze.

"Backing off already?"

"You've called for it, Lils…"

The next second, he had carried her up to sit on the table behind them, making her giggle, before he pressed hot kisses down her neck, her laughter getting caught in her throat in response.

But they were interrupted by the sound of running footsteps in the stairs, and James let out a frustrated growl before breaking away from his wife.

"I love our children, but sometimes, I hate them," he complained, making Lily laugh.

She ran her fingers through his thick black hair, messing it up even more than sleep had during the night. But after all, she loved his messy jet-black hair, she just couldn't help it…

Without surprise, they both turned towards the door to discover an excited little boy, with hair and lopsided glasses that matched his father's, but eyes of a deep green hue that were identical to his mother's.

"We need to hurry!" he cried, running in the kitchen.

"Well, good morning to you too, Harry," James laughed.

"We need to hurry," the boy repeated. "We must get ready, uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony will soon be here!"

Harry grabbed a pancake and shoved it fully into his mouth.

"Hey, hey… slow down!" Lily reprimanded him. "Sit down and eat your breakfast correctly. We still have lots of time before everyone arrives to pick us up."

"Can I use Padfoot's motorcycle?" Harry asked shyly.

But even his cute expression could not fool his parents.

"Sirius will come by the Floo Network. Anyway, it's too far from here to fly."

Harry tried to pout to convince his parents but James shook his head.

"He's not coming with it, Harry."

"But perhaps after we shop we can…"

"After that we are all going to eat dinner at the Weasleys, remember?"

Harry's expression brightened at the mention of the wizarding family he considered like his own.

"You're right," he finally agreed. "I've promised Ron that I would help him against Fred and George at Quidditch."

"Be careful when you play with them," Lily admonished, her voice soft though, and her tone worried.

"I'm always careful!" Harry brushed her remark away. "Besides, Ron needs me, mum!"

Lily and James exchanged a glance, and she pointed an accusatory and yet playful finger at her husband.

"I knew you and your genes would be trouble, Potter," she joked, making James laugh.

She finally hooped down the table, only to land in James's arms again.

"I know… but that's why you love me so much," he smirked, wriggling his eyebrows and making her join his laughter.

"Maybe a bit," she admitted.

"Just a bit?"

"Maybe a lot…"

"Just a lot?"

"Don't push your luck, Potter… I could still get a date with the giant squid if I wanted!"

"I thought that after all these years I would have proven myself to you by now!" he laughed.

She didn't reply and merely dropped a kiss on his cheek instead, stepping again towards the food she had been preparing.

"You should go and wake up the girls," she proposed. "I'll finish to make breakfast."

James merely nodded, stepping out of the kitchen and climbing up the stairs towards his daughters' bedrooms.

He wasn't surprised when he found his younger daughter in her sister's bed, the two ginger girls wrapped in the same blanket. He smiled at the sight, sitting softly on the side of Rose's bed. He ran his hand across their brows, a peaceful and happy expression on his face as he watched the two girls sleep, two little angels lost in their wild dreams.

Outside, the sun was shining more and more brightly, the blue sky immaculate.

Yes, James Potter was very lucky, indeed…

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

 Lily held the letter in her hands. One more time... It seemed to be the thousandth time at least that she read the letters traced in a graceful handwriting. She just couldn't believe that 11 years had already flown by.

Harry was eleven now, he had received his letter from Hogwarts and would be welcomed to the prestigious school in just a few days now. How years passed so fast…

"Mum, hurry!"

She smiled down at her son, following him further down the street.

Diagon Alley was as bright and full of magic as it had always been. Or at least, as her children remembered it. How she remembered it when she came for the first time as well. She had seen this long street wearing darker shades as well, full of shadows instead of smiles… But these days were long gone, and now the world was all full of light again.

She felt her husband slip his fingers between hers, and she reciprocated the light squeeze he gave her hand.

"Is everything alright?" James asked softly.

"Yes, it's just… strange to take Harry here to buy books and quills and all sorts of things for Hogwarts. I hadn't noticed that years had flown by so fast."

"Me neither," he admitted, and they exchanged a tender smile.

"Alright, buddy! Let's do this properly!" Sirius's happy voice tore both James and Lily out of their thoughts, to focus on the merry company that surrounded them. "First, you need your wand!"

Harry's eyes lit up with excitement, and he turned to his parents.

"Can we go to Ollivanders then?"

"Where else could we possibly buy your wand?" James asked back, guiding the group through the busy crowd.

In Marlene's arms, her son was pouting.

"Why can't I have a wand too?" Arthur protested.

"Because you're too little still. You have to wait until you're eleven and you receive your letter to Hogwarts."

"But it's in such a long time!"

"Everything comes in good time, Arthur," Sirius reassured his son. "You'll be just fine. I'll teach you a few tricks before that."

"Sirius!" Lily protested.

"What?"

"You don't have the right to do that!"

"Do you truly think that Prongs and I have taught nothing to your son yet?"

"You did WHAT?!"

Sirius winced, an apologetic expression on his face as his gaze met his brother's.

"Sorry…"

"You had to open your mouth, Padfoot…" James sighed.

"James!"

"Lils, relax! We've just taught him a couple of things. Nothing dramatic!"

"I should most definitely get worried then. So much more worried…"

"Lils!"

But she had no time to protest furthermore, as they finally reached the right shop.

Harry had such a happy and excited expression on his face, his parents could not refrain the joyful smiles that formed on their lips.

They pushed the door of the old shop open, stepping inside to meet the old wandmaker that had sold to all of them their wands. The shop was filled with these memories of children picking up their wand for the first time. And as they walked inside the dusty room that smelled like wood and candles, they could all see their 11-years-old selves standing before the counter all over again.

The children had awe painted all over their faces before the tall shelves filled with tiny boxes. So many magical wands in just one place…

"I can't wait to come back here next year," Amira let out in a breath.

Sirius chuckled, bending down to drop a kiss upon his daughter's head.

"Don't wish too fast. I want to keep my princess by my side for one more year."

"Dad!" the girl rolled her eyes. "I'm not little anymore!"

"You will always be little to us, get used to it," her mother replied.

Amira heaved a dramatic sigh, that made her parents laugh.

But the attention of all in the group then focused on the old wizard before them, who welcomed them with a smile.

"Oh, I knew that you would come this year!" the wandmaker smiled at James and Lily. "Let's see what I can find for your son!"

He took a close look at Harry at first, before humming softly.

"Yes, yes… perhaps…"

He picked up a box, and gave the wand to Harry.

"Did your parents explain to you how this works?"

"Uncle Moony explained to me," Harry answered shyly, looking at Remus by his side, "that it's the wand that chooses its wizard, not the other way around."

"That's perfectly correct!" Ollivanders nodded. "Try this one."

Harry picked the wand but as soon as he waved it a little, the lamp on the merchant desk exploded. Harry started, and hurried to give Ollivanders back the wand.

"Alright, perhaps not this wood then…" the old wizard mumbled under his breath, thinking hard.

He picked up another box, and invited Harry to try it. But the result was no better, and several boxes flew across the room as Harry tried the new wand.

"I see… then, I guess you really need a bit of both…" Ollivanders smiled.

He walked further down the alley between the shelves, climbed up upon a ladder and gave Harry a third box.

"Try this one, my boy. I think that's the right one!"

Harry carefully picked up the new wand, apprehensive at the idea to try again and break something else. But he waved the wand again anyway, and no explosion happened this time, and nothing was thrown across the room either… instead, Harry found out that the wand felt good in his hand. As if it was a part of him already. He grinned up at the wandmaker, who nodded his head with a content look on his face.

"The same wood and length as your father's wand, but the heart of your mother's. You did need a bit of both indeed!"

Harry happily turned to his parents, to find them both with tears shining in their eyes. James bent down to level his eyes with his son's, a touched smile on his lips.

"Good choice," James nodded. "We're very proud of you, Harry. You know that, right? We'll always be very proud of you."

The boy nodded, before rushing in his father's arms.

While Lily and James paid for the wand, Sirius and Remus both took a closer look to Harry's new tool.

"It looks like a very good wand," Sirius nodded in approbation.

"Indeed. Put it to good use," Remus nodded as well, giving Harry a wink.

Harry grinned up at his uncles.

"I will."

"You do remember the spell to make the armours sing, right?" Sirius checked in a whisper, so Lily would not hear him.

"Of course I do," Harry reassured him. "And Ron managed to do it too!"

"Perfect! You already have your partner in crime, then!"

"But don't get caught!" Remus warned the boy. "And don't be cruel to anyone!"

"Of course not!"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a proud smile. They had done a very good job in Harry's education, clearly.

"Okay, now we have the wand, let's go through the rest of the list, shall we?" Marlene proposed, walking out of the wandmaker's shop.

They went from shop to shop, buying books and cauldrons and robes and parchments and quills and everything that Harry would need for his year at Hogwarts. Marlene and Lily chose a beautiful set of parchments and envelopes from Amaneunsis Quills that they gave to the boy, joking about their need for weekly reports on what was happening in the school. They made a stop before the shop Magical Menagerie, where Peter was working. Harry explained everything that had happened and showed to his uncle all the new books his parents had bought for him. And there was one more happy surprise as Hagrid came to the shop while they talked to Peter. The half-giant, though he seemed more than happy to see the little gathering of his friends, also seemed to have some business of some kind going on, as he suspiciously whispered something in Peter's ear.

"Now, Hagrid… don't force me to arrest you!" Sirius joked. "If I find out that you've been rescuing magical creatures again and keeping them with you instead of releasing them where they belong…"

But Hagrid's laugh cut Sirius off.

"I'm recovering a delivery, 's all!" Hagrid laughed.

"A delivery? What kind? Food?" James asked with curiosity.

But Hagrid chuckled, looking down at Harry.

"Nay, something for ya boy!"

"For me?!" Harry asked with a bright grin.

"Hagrid, you didn't have to buy anything!" Lily admonished, but the giant brushed her remark away.

"Makes me happy to. 's normal that I buy a lil' something for my friends' son!"

Peter reappeared soon with a bright smile on his face, carrying a cage in which a beautiful snowy owl was imprisoned.

Peter handed the cage to Hagrid, who gave it to Harry, smiling at the awe on the boy's face at the sight of the owl.

" 's for ya, Harry," Hagrid grinned. "Take good care of her. Now, ya can write to ya family every day!"

"Hagrid, this is way too much…" James tried to protest, but the giant refused to hear about it.

And after all, Harry was already hugging the caretaker of Hogwarts.

"Thank you so much, Hagrid!"

The giant merely chuckled happily, patting the boys head that seemed so little against his large palm.

"Ya welcome," Hagrid smiled. "What's her name?"

Harry seemed to think for a while, before he smiled up at his family.

"Hedwig!"

"Cool name," Sirius agreed, petting the animal through the bars of her cage.

"Let's find some food for her, Harry," Peter nodded towards some shelves further in the shop. "I'll explain you how to take good care of her, okay?"

"Thank you, uncle Peter."

"Wormtail," James followed his friend through the shop. "We're going to the shop right after."

"I'm coming with you all, Prongs," Peter nodded.

Lily frowned slightly.

"What shop?" she asked her husband.

"It's a little surprise," James answered elusively.

Once the owl's food was bought and the little group walked out of the shop, Sirius, Remus, James and Peter guided Harry towards another store… filled with Quidditch furniture and broomsticks. Harry's face brightened again at the sight of Quality Quidditch Supplies front door.

"Where are we going, dad?" he asked his father.

"Well, you're going to Hogwarts so… you're going to need a proper broomstick," James answered, winking at his old friends by his side.

"A new broom?" Harry asked in a breath, a large grin illuminating his young features.

Sirius nodded.

"We've booked it. We just need to pick it up."

"You're going to like it," Remus laughed.

Harry followed the four men inside, and when Sirius handed him the broom, the boy could only let his eyes grow round.

"Is that…"

"It is," Peter nodded.

"A Nimbus 2000…"

"It is," Remus nodded as well.

"Ron won't believe it," Harry grinned, taking the broom in his hands.

"You can try it together tonight when we eat at the Weasleys," Sirius proposed.

"Yes! He'll love it!"

Harry rushed to hug his father and his three uncles, laughing out of pure joy.

"Thank you so much!"

The four men exchanged a smile.

They were sending their boy to Hogwarts for the first time after all, it was only natural to spoil him a little.

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

 The night was fresh for an evening of August, but the sinking sun was still warm enough for the gathering to eat in the large garden. The Burrow and its crooked silhouette towered them all, shedding a long shadow to stretch across the grass. In the house, Arthur and Marlene were chatting about affairs in the ministry while Lily and Molly were preparing dinner with the help of Sirius's son, Rose and Poppy, the children being put in charge of the decoration of the cake. Sirius and Remus were talking with the twins and Amira and telling them stories about the pranks they had performed at Hogwarts years before, and gave the two teenagers a few advices as well. In the garden, James, Peter, Ginny, Harry and Ron were trying Harry's new broomstick.

It was a merry gathering that filled the halls of the house with laughter. Funny stories mingled with jokes and excitement. The smell of good food filled the air, carried across the garden by the breeze and warmed by the last golden rays of the sun.

In the middle of this peaceful evening, the four Marauders gathered with both Harry and Ron for one final surprise to end the busy day.

After all, the Marauders had a legacy to give to the next generation…

"We have something for you, Harry. Or… for the two of you, actually. We know you'll both use these two items well, and it's always important to have a good partner in Hogwarts for… shenanigans," James winked at the two boys.

"But first, you must give us your word that Filch will never get his hands on these items, that you will keep them secret, and reveal their existence only to your most trusted friends," Sirius warned.

"We promise!" the two boys both exclaimed in unison.

James took out of his bag a strange-looking cloak of a mysterious hue that seemed to change with the movements of the cloth, along with an old blank parchment.

"This is my Invisibility Cloak," James told the boys, and the eyes of the two boys became rounder and bigger as the meaning of the adult's words hit them. "It saved the four of us many times, and not only in Hogwarts. It will be perfect to avoid trouble and danger."

He gave the cloak to Harry and Ron, before he handed them the blank parchment as well.

"This… is our greatest creation," Sirius told the two boys.

"Our masterpiece," Remus nodded in agreement.

"It saved our skins countless times," Peter added.

"And it allowed us to prepare the perfect pranks!" James agreed.

"What is it?" Ron asked with curiosity, failing at understanding the meaning behind a blank piece of parchment.

"Padfoot, will you do us the honour?" James smiled at his best friend, who agreed and rested the tip of his wand on the parchment, before speaking the magical formula.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Lines of dark ink started to appear and spread across the parchment, tracing words and shapes under the aghast eyes of Harry and Ron.

"Wow…" Ron breathed.

"The Marauder's Map…" Harry breathed.

"It will give you the exact position of everyone in Hogwarts. Along with a map of the Castle that you will find very useful at the beginning of your stay in the Castle," Remus explained.

"It only appears if you speak the exact words Padfoot used," Peter added. "You'll have to use another sentence to hide the map again."

"Mischief Managed," Sirius demonstrated, tapping with his wand on the parchment again, and the ink seemed to be adsorbed by the paper until there was no trace of it left.

"Use it well. It will get you out of trouble if needed," James went on. "Don't let Filch get his hands on it again."

"Again?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, he took it from us at the end of our last year. But we got it back a few years ago," Sirius smirked.

Ron and Harry both exploded with laughter.

"That's brilliant!" Ron grinned.

"We're entrusting the two of you to use these well," James warned the boys.

They both nodded.

"Thank you," they both smiled in unison, before hugging the adults before them, making them laugh.

"Oh, and… better not tell your mothers that we gave you these," James added before dropping a sweet peck on Harry's head.

"Can we tell Aunt Marlene?" Harry asked, looking at Sirius.

"Of course, you can! She's far from innocent in all that we did with these during our years at Hogwarts anyway."

"We should tell Fred and George too! I bet they could help!"

"Oh Merlin… are you sure?" Remus laughed, imagining what could happen if the rebellious brothers managed to get their hands on the Map.

"That would be brilliant, Moony!" Sirius replied. "They have such a potential!"

"Poor Filch…"

"I can't believe you've just said that! It's Filch!" Peter replied.

"Alright… alright…"

Harry and Ron were already lost in a deep conversation, looking at the map they had summoned again, and thinking about which parts of the Castle to explore first. And at the sight of the two excited boys, the four adults exchanged a warm smile.

Their legacy was in good hands.

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

 "Are you sure that you have everything?"

"Yes, mum."

"You'll write to us often, okay?"

"Yes, mum!"

"Lily, leave him alone! He's going to Hogwarts, not in Azkaban!"

"I know… I know…"

"Ron! Wait! Ginny is still with you mum!"

"We have to hurry or we'll be late!"

"You won't be late!"

"Anyway, in the worst case, you have an Auror with you, remember?"

"No, Sirius. You will not use your authority as an Auror to stop the train."

"I could delay it…"

"That's a no, Sirius. Listen to your wife."

"Moony, who's side are you supposed to be on again?"

"Mum! I can't find my scarf!"

"Here, I've got it, Amira."

"Where's Fred?"

"I think we've lost Molly and Ginny."

"No, no, they're just behind Arthur."

"Which one?"

"The old one, not ours, Marls."

"I swear on Merlin's beard if you roll on my foot one more time Harry Potter…"

"Sorry, Wormtail, but Ron is not walking fast enough!"

"Hey! It's George who's messing with my trolley!"

"Me?"

"No, I know that you're Fred, you moron!"

"Language, young man!"

"But…"

"No 'but', Ronald!"

"Finally! The right wall!"

"Come on Harry, let's race!"

"No, Ron, not a good idea…"

"James, stop them!"

"I am trying, Lils!"

"Oh Merlin…"

"Careful!"

"I'll go after them."

"Careful, Padfoot!"

"You moron, Sirius, wait for me!"

"No time, Moony!"

"Padfoot!"

"Sirius!"

"Where is daddy running to?"

"Right into trouble."

"Sorry, Marls…"

The second his feet hit the ground of the platform 9 3/4, Sirius felt his heart beat a little faster. Despite the years that had gone by since the last time he had stepped upon the platform, it felt like nothing had changed.

Still the crowd filled with students and their family, still the long train waiting patiently for its departure, still the loud voices and all the noise and the scent of smoke and oil…

It still felt like coming home…

He spotted easily Harry and Ron, focusing on the task at hand again, and he hurried towards the two boys.

"Hey, hey, hey! Wait for us!" Sirius admonished.

"Padfoot! Where are the others?" Ron asked.

"Still running."

But soon the whole group had passed through the magical wall. And while the Weasleys bid their sons goodbye, Harry was hugging in turn everyone in his own large family.

"We're going to miss you," his young sister Rose started to cry.

"But I'll be back for Christmas! And I'll write very often!"

"Do you promise?" Poppy asked, hugging her elder brother as well.

"Of course!"

He then hugged Peter, Remus, Marlene and finally Sirius.

"Be careful, and get into trouble," his godfather winked at him. "And write to us too!"

"I promise, Padfoot."

Finally, he turned to his parents, who stood next to each other, with tears shining in their eyes that they couldn't manage to control.

He rushed to them and they both hugged him together.

"You'll see, you're going to have a great time there," James reassured his son.

"We love you very much and we're proud of you," Lily whispered in Harry's ear.

"I love you too."

They kept their embrace sealed for a few more minutes before the train would start to whistle.

"You have to go now," James patted Harry's shoulder.

The boy discretely dried his tears, before nodding and stepping away from his parents.

He followed Ron in the closest compartment, and as the train whistled again and starting to free its heavy fumes, he and Ron looked at their families on the platform, waving goodbye.

As the train eventually left the station, James wrapped a protective arm around his wife's shoulders, while she sniffed and dried her cheeks.

"That was such a bad idea to have children in the first place. There should be more warnings about what will happen when they grow up," James joked.

She nodded, but couldn't summon the strength to talk for now as her throat was still way too tight to let any sound pass her lips.

Yes, how fast could time fly by indeed…

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

 At the sight of Minerva McGonagall's letter, James, Lily and their friends all knew what was written on the parchment: the house in which Harry had been placed by the Sorting Hat.

The Transfiguration teacher being a dear friend of their family, she had promised to announce the news of their son's house personally and faster than the traditional ways.

And James was overexcited…

"LETTER! LETTER!"

"We're all in the same room, Prongs…"

"Moony, always the pragmatic one…"

"Padfoot, shut it."

"Be careful with your language!" Lily admonished, looking at her two daughters.

James sat down in the living room with the rest of his friends, looking at Lily, and she smiled at him, nodding her head. She leaned against him to be able to read the letter as well. She noticed that James's fingers were shaking as he tore the envelope open.

His eyes travelled across the paper for less than a second before he spotted the name of Harry's house, and he jumped back on his feet in joy and pride, crying out loud.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Everyone in the room cheered, and Sirius and Remus both started to laugh.

"Wormtail, pay us up!" Sirius requested.

"Pay you?" Marlene frowned.

"This moron thought that Harry wouldn't get in Gryffindor."

"Hey, there were other possibilities!" Peter defended himself

"With these two as parents and us all to raise him? What other possibility? Ravenclaw? Let me laugh!"

"Hufflepuff… or even Slytherin!"

"Slytherin, perhaps," Remus nodded slowly. "But he didn't get in Slytherin, he went in Gryffindor, so pay us our galleons!"

"So Harry is in Gryffindor?" Poppy asked.

"Yes, he is! That's great, isn't it?" Lily answered with excitement.

"What house did you want him to be in?"

"Oh, sweetheart, it doesn't matter at all. We are all different, and we all fit more or less in each house. It doesn't matter, we'll always be very proud of you all no matter your house."

"But it kind of runs in the family to be in Gryffindor," Sirius whispered to James, who nodded enthusiastically.

"What else does the letter say?" Marlene asked, bringing everyone back to Earth.

Lily picked up the letter that James had dropped in his excitement, and she read the rest of Minerva's words.

"Ron is with him in Gryffindor," she read.

"Not surprising, he's a Weasley!" Sirius snorted.

"And he already has an arch enemy," she frowned.

"Who?"

"Draco… Malfoy…"

"A Malfoy," James winced. "Not surprising."

"James! Don't think like that!"

"I'm just saying…"

"Remind me what your brother's last name is again?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her.

"That was uncalled for," he replied coldly.

"Sorry, but it's true."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter!" Remus guided the conversation towards more peaceful topics again. "What else does it say?"

"Not much. They travelled with a Muggleborn… Hermione Granger. She went in Gryffindor too."

"Oh Merlin, I can picture it already! The three devils…" Remus sighed.

"She's a girl, don't be ridiculous. She'll bring the brain!" Marlene joked.

James took a look around at his friends and family, at the warm living room that had seen his first steps and those of his children as well. And for a short moment, for just a few seconds, the past formed before his eyes again in some kind of foggy picture. His first date with Lily, the night Sirius had run away from his parents' house, the first Christmas with all his friends in Godric's Hollow, his wedding, the fear, the fighting, the wounds, the blood, Harry crying for the first time, the long nights spent wondering how too keep him and Lily safe, their run into hidings, Peter's vow, the long months spent waiting, until Voldemort was finally destroyed…

A million things could have gone wrong, and a million times he could have lost this life he cherished so much today…

… but James Potter was a very lucky man. And no matter what the past had tried, it had never managed to take him away from the people he loved. And despite all that he had been through, he was standing there today, with a happy life, he was there to see his son join his old Hogwarts House.

James Potter was a very lucky man, and he was still there…

 ******************************

Tag list : @geeksareunique @giggleberts @justanothermaraudersblog @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmaslow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @drinix @joelynnp @mxrihollxnd @mikeselevennn @knowledgeisthebomb @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @deynight-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit

#jily fic #jily imagine #jily fanfiction #jily #sirius black #sirius imagine #sirius black imagine #sirius fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #blackinnon #blackinnon imagine #blackinnon fanfiction #remus lupin #remus imagine #remus fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #fanfic #writing #imagine

[ectopuppy]

Crash Chapter 3

[Chapter 1.1] [Chapter 1.2] [Chapter 2.1] [Chapter 2.2] 

On fanfiction.net!

Crash is off hiatus! This was a fun chapter to write. If you’re wondering about why this chapter is “chapter 3″ instead of “chapter 5″, that’s because I reformatted the story on fanfiction. So now what were chapters 1 and 2 are chapter one. (same for 3&4) 

Anyway here we go!~

Two hours later Sam pulled into their garage, reminding herself to pick up her car tomorrow. She hated driving her mother's Lexus, it was too fancy for her tastes. She cut the engine and leaned her head on the steering wheel for a moment. Time to go play nice with mom and dad, She thought. You're only here for the summer then you're back at school where you don't have to deal with them. She allowed herself a few more seconds of self pity and then got out of the car, steeling her nerves.

“I'm home,” She called as she entered the house. Her mother, who had been in the sitting room the garage opened up into, accosted her immediately.

“How did it go?” Pam started, patting the couch beside her with a dainty motion. Sam sat, knowing that abstaining would be 'improper and impolite'. She sighed inwardly. Nineteen is too old to worry about being scolded.

“You were out all night last night and, it was so last minute –very unprofessional, by the way– you probably had no time to prepare. Just look at your makeup, it's far too dark for an interview.” Pam caught her daughter's pointed look and frowned. She made a high sound in the back of her throat and continued. “Did it go well Pumpkin?”

“Yes, actually,” Sam replied, biting down the urge to scream. She drummed her nails on her thigh in an attempt to soothe herself. She plastered a proud smile on her face. “It went very well. I start on Monday.”

“That's wonderful, sweetheart.” Pam exclaimed, clapping her hands together with the same grace all her actions seemed to have. “Which internship was it? The accounting firm? I know your father put in a good word for you with a friend there.”

“No,” Sam said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “It was the record label. I met one of the producers assistants last night and she recognized me from my application. We hit it off pretty well and she offered to set up a meeting with her boss. Wild, huh?” It wasn't the exact truth, but Sam wasn't sure how well her mother would take the whole 'I Yelled at some Rockstars and they Asked Me To Come Party' thing. She wasn't sure how well she was taking it to be honest.

“Well, at least we know you're good at networking,” Pam said, laughing to herself. Sam shifted on the couch and straightened her skirt. Pam placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. “Why don't we go out for dinner to celebrate. Your father and I haven't taken you out in ages. We could go to the country club! I'm sure everyone would be excited to see you.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, her voice dripping with the kind of false enthusiasm that her mother had a hard time detecting. There was no arguing. She could tell her mother had already made up her mind. She wanted to parade Sam out in front of her friends, and tell them all how perfect she was. Sam mentally shook those unwanted thoughts away, and stood from the couch. “I'll go change.”

“I should as well,” Pam replied, following suit. She smoothed out her already immaculate dress, and hummed to herself. “Oh! That reminds me; I bought you a dress today you should wear it,” Sam's nose wrinkled up. “don't give me that look, it's not pink.”

“Okay,” Sam sighed, keeping herself from rolling her eyes. With a nod, Pam left to go find her husband and prepare for an evening out. Sam started her trudge up the stairs. She entered her room –the only room in the house not painted in pastels –and eyed the white box on her bed. She kicked off her heels and sat down beside it before pulling out her phone.

Danny Fenton: Congratulations! Jazz told me you got the job! :)

Sam Manson: Thanks. My parents are taking me out to celebrate.

Danny Fenton: Sounds like fun. I'll let you get to your evening.

Says the celebrity taking time from his day to text me, Sam thought, an amused smile on her lips. She still couldn't stop the giddiness that bubbled up in her heart whenever she thought about Danny. Every other minute she would remember that she now had the personal numbers of her favourite band on her phone and her heart would explode a little.

She was determined to not be weird about it. Maybe she'd had a bit of a crush on Phantom since she was sixteen, but that was just some silly fantasy. Now he was Danny. He was real. Once she got to know him –oh my god, she was going to get to know Phantom –the butterflies in her stomach would subside. He'd just be a colleague. A friend maybe. A dreamy blue eyed friend who just happened to be plastered on her wall. Sam buried her face in her hands. Those posters would have to come down now.

With a sigh, Sam steeled herself and tossed her phone down on her bed. Enough stalling, time to see what her mother had bought her. She removed the lid from the box and looked down at the dress in the box. It was lilac with a violet floral pattern. Could be worse. Sam thought, pulling it out of the box. It was a sleeveless tea dress, with a high collar and a white taffeta underskirt. She went to the mirror and held it up to herself. It was probably meant to be knee length, but with Sam's long legs it would end a few inches short. She could make this work.

She went downstairs forty minutes later in purple lipstick and dark eyeliner, her hair pulled into a tight bun. She'd chosen all black accessories, trying to go for a pastel goth look. Her father smiled at her, and looped his arm through Pam's. Pam gave Sam a quick once over and pursed her lips for a moment before smiling. She was displeased enough for it to show on her face, but not enough to say anything. A balance Sam had perfected in her senior year.

“Ready to go ladies?” Jeremy asked, taking no notice of the brief tension between his wife and daughter. Pam's smile became more genuine, and she leaned into him. Sam checked her purse for her phone, and then nodded. “Alright, let's go.”

“I can't believe you got a concussion, dude!” Danny practically howled, dropping his phone onto his bed with a dull thud. Jasmine knocked three times on his wall, a signal she'd used since they were kids to tell him to be quieter. Cujo padded over and sniffed the wall, interested in the sound.

“Whatever,” Simon's voice chimed out of Danny's phone speaker. “I was drunk. Back flips are cool.”

“Only when you stick the landing,” Danny laughed, softer this time. He held a red flannel shirt up to himself in the mirror and then tossed it on his bed. “Between you pulling that and Latch renting a peacock, I'm sure we made a hell of a first impression on Sam.”

“She seemed pretty chill about the whole thing,” Simon replied. Danny could just barely hear Tucker and Latch talking in the background. He strained to hear them. “Yeah, Tuck says they had a good morning. I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

“I mean she was a little flustered maybe, but in my presence who wouldn't be.” Tucker added. Danny heard someone smack him, and snorted. “She's really nice, though. I was a little worried at first to be honest.”

“Yeah, like, we made a pretty big snap decision.” Latch said. Danny nodded to himself. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her at the after party. He'd been pulled away by the press pretty early on. Jazz had nothing but good things to say about her, though. Danny had learned to trust her judgment. Latch continued. “She could have been... You know.”

“A stalker...” Simon finished for him. An uncomfortable second of silence passed over the group. Simon cleared his throat and continued.

“But, I agree. She seems very genuine.” Danny let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Simon never hid what he thought of someone –it had gotten him in hot water more than once –so hearing that he had accepted Sam was a relief.

“Still,” Danny said, a tentative edge to his voice, “we should give her time to prove herself.”

“Of course.” Simon replied. His voice was softer than before. Danny opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a knock at his door.

“One second,” He said in the direction of his phone. “Come in.”

“Hey sweetie.” Maddie said, opening the door. She still had her lab coat on over her clothes. Cujo bounded to her side and nuzzled her hand. She pet his head in gentle circles.

“Hi Maddie!” Danny's phone chorused. He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, mom.” Danny replied, a warm grin on his face. It was nice to spend time with his family for once. He was glad this tour was over. “What's up?”

“Hello boys, “ Maddie laughed. “I just wanted to say I'm home, and ask if you planned eating with us or not.”

“Oh,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn't considered that his mom might want to have dinner. “We made plans already.”

“Dude, are you kidding!? Can we come over instead!?” Latch's voice yelled from the phone. Maddie smiled. “I haven't had a home cooked meal in months.”

“Of course you can.” Maddie replied. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, gauging Danny's reaction. When he didn't object, she smoothed out her lab coat and grinned. “Be here by seven. We're having spaghetti.”

Cheers erupted from Danny's phone, and his heart swelled. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this.

“Thanks mom.” Maddie shot him a final smile and slipped out the door, pressing it closed with a click.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #my fanfic #screamo au