I was a young man, I fled my home country. I will refrain from naming
it here, because if you knew where it was, you would be able to locate
the forest and I want it to remain as it is: obscure, mythical, and
Remus: *stumbles into the Potter’s house, body torn and bleeding*
James: *gapes* R-Remus?
Remus: *hears the distant sound of voices* *eyes flutter open*
James: *muffled voice seeps in from the kitchen* -so bad Lils… I don’t know what to do.
Lily: Do you think this has something to do with the missions Albus assigned him?
James: I can’t think of any other reason why he’d miss a moon… his transformations are so much harder without us. He won’t tell me what’s happening. He won’t tell anyone… Merlin… I’ve never seen him like this before.
James: Whatever Albus has him doing… I think Moons is in way over his head.
Remus: *cringes, glancing down at the bandages around his chest* *stares as blood starts seeping through* Fuck… *slowly lifts himself off of the bed, trembling* *stumbles into the bathroom*
James: Remus? Are you up?
Remus: *weakly* I’m up, just going to take a bath… *turns the tap on and watches the steam fill the room, drowning out James’ response*
Remus: *vision blurs as a cloud of red slowly pours out into the water*
Remus: *quietly* Wh-who’s there?
Remus: *waits a moment, his eyes on the door* James?
Remus: *slowly lies back, the red water covering him* *suddenly jumps and sits up as the door opens*
Watching Derek dote on someone is hard – harder than Stiles
thought it would ever be, despite the fact he knows it’s insincere; despite the
fact it’s the job and nothing more.
It’s hard because
Stiles hasn’t had those arms around him in months, hasn’t had opportunity to
arrange a chance meeting on a crowded street in weeks, hasn’t had Derek’s eyes
meet his and watched his mouth curl into a smile for him.
Derek’s team have
been fairly indulgent, letting Stiles tag along on the assignment to observe
and allowing him to blend with various crowds just to be close to Derek. Early
on, before Derek insinuated himself into their mark’s life, they even allowed
them to talk on the phone, but that might as well have been in another
hates his job, hates Derek’s job, hates the fact they’d never have met if it
wasn’t for their jobs because then he can’t hate it as much.
Stiles is across the
restaurant and he can’t tear his eyes away from the back of Derek’s head for
more than a few seconds at a time, usually at the prompting of the agent he’s
sitting across from.
Prompt: shiro and Lance catching each other sneaking of the rooms of their respective boos.
Shiro pressed a soft, final kiss to Allura’s cheek, and he smiled at the way she scrunched up her nose before falling back to sleep. The missions and duties of Voltron aside, these late night rendezvous were exhausting for the both of them; as much as he wished he could, however, Shiro couldn’t sleep in the princess’ chambers – not when he knew that her loyal advisor would arrive at the crack of the day cycle to wake her. With the assistance of the dimmed lights and a few helpful squeaks from the mice, he padded his way over to the doors and slipped silently into the hall.
As the door slid closed with a hydraulic hiss, Shiro allowed himself a moment to press his forehead against the metal and heave a weary sigh.
Shiro whipped around at the voice, shocked to find himself not as alone as he had assumed. A wide-eyed Lance stood slack-jawed, his finger pointing accusingly at Shiro’s chest. “What are you doing awake at this hour?” Shiro asked, internally begging that he came off as stern and commanding instead of panicky and oh my god what did he see.
“Is that Allura’s room?!” Lance squeaked. Shiro shushed him quickly, eyes darting to the door they were both parked outside. “That’s Allura’s room!” Lance whisper-yelled. “What were you doing in Allura’s room?!”
“Why are you out here?” Shiro returned, finally getting a good look at the teenager in the low light. “Is that Keith’s shirt?”
“Is that a hickey?!”
Shiro slapped a hand quickly over the telltale mark with a scandalized gasp. “Go to your room!” He hissed, knowing his face was turning the same shade as a tomato.
“You’re not my-”
“At the moment, yes, I am your dad, now go to your room this instant!” Shiro managed between clenched teeth. Lance huffed and spun on his heel, scurrying down the corridor without a backwards glance. Shiro slumped against the wall with a groan.
Hey guys, so here is part 1 of my mini fic. So this part is probably pretty boring, but I wanted to just kinda set the story up! Pleaaaaase leave feedback in my ask and let me know if you want part 2 or if this part is just too shit. Thanks darls.
I had some free time tonight, so here’s the first bit of a thing I’m working on. ~500 words.
Stiles’ mysterious new roommate shows up right as Stiles and Scott are sliding their second tray of ginger snaps out of the oven. Stiles thought it’d be a nice way to welcome him, break the ice a little, all that. He’s also planning to make some sugar cookies in case D. Hale has less adventurous tastes. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski doesn’t plan ahead.
“I’ll get it!” Stiles shouts, and opens the door still wearing his cartoon cat apron and oven mitts. Cue immediate regret and the world’s most horrifying full-body blush.
And maybe Stiles should’ve suspected that someone with a username like camaro89 wouldn’t want to sit around the kitchen table eating cookies and playing Scrabble, but still. This guy looks like he could be a volunteer firefighter or ex-marine or maybe, given the glare that’s currently melting Stiles into the floor, something closer to professional assassin.
No doubt about it, Hale could squish Stiles underfoot like an insignificant bug if he wanted to. (His eyes say he totally wants to.)
This would probably be the appropriate time for Stiles to introduce himself. Instead, he just gapes unattractively, because he has no social skills with people who are not Scott.
“You’re the Polish kid with the spare room,” Hale finally asks. No question mark anywhere in that sentence.
Stiles nods mutely.
Hale nods back, like that’s that, and shoulders his way into the apartment. Stiles scrambles backwards to avoid getting caught in the face by the dude’s duffle bag.
Scott pokes his head out from the kitchen. “Yo, dude, your key’s already in your room. First door on the right. You need any help with anything? We made cookies if you want some.”
Hale pauses ominously in the living room. The stare he fixes Scott with could strip flesh off bones.
“Or not,” Scott amends hastily. “Whatever works for you.”
That gets no response. Hale goes off down the hall without a backwards glance. He closes his door quietly but firmly behind him. There’s a click as he pushes the lock in, and then dead silence.
Stiles won’t lie, he’s feeling pretty intimidated right now.
Scott shivers. “That guy is a serial killer.”
“Is not,” Stiles says, unconvincingly.
Scott squints suspiciously in the direction of Hale’s bedroom. “He so is, oh my god. Everybody knows serial killers are, like, the only people on the planet who don’t like cookies.”
Stiles is pretty sure he didn’t know that, but it makes sense.
“This is why you don’t go shopping for roommates on Craigslist, Stiles.”
It’s definitely too late now to un-rent that room, but maybe Stiles can quietly flee back to Poland while Hale is sleeping. If he sleeps, that is. Maybe he just does push-ups in his room all night, or lies in a coffin staring up at the ceiling and digesting the blood of his victims.
“Anyway.” Stiles shoves at Scott’s shoulder. “C’mon, move, I want to drown my sorrows in ginger snaps.”
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
(Tagore, Unending Love)
“I don’t think you should be driving, Cas.” Sam’s voice is gentle as he opens the door, gesturing for Castiel to sit.
Castiel hesitates, but nods in agreement, fumbling for the keys of his truck. There’s a clanging noise from behind them as Dean tosses the pieces of Michael’s lance into the boot before slamming it shut.
“I’ll drive it back,” Dean says stiffly, snatching them from Castiel’s hands. He hands the Impala’s keys to Sam, striding toward the truck without so much as a backward glance.
Sam lets out an irritated huff, chivying Castiel into the car before heading towards Mary. The Impala is cold, and Castiel shivers a little as he slumps in his seat, his forehead resting on the glass. The numbness is creeping as he watches Dean disappear in a cloud of dust - the enormity of what had just happened, of what he had just said out loud slowly hitting him.
No wonder Dean couldn’t wait to leave.
He watches Sam hug Mary briefly before she heads toward her own car. She waves at Castiel and Sam as she’s pulling away, her smile strained.
“You okay Cas?” Sam asks him, as he turns the key in the ignition. He sounds distracted, the corners of his mouth turned down as he waves back at his mother.
The Blonde Leading the Blind - Jughead Jones x Reader Imagine
Request by anon: Hi! I would like to request something for Jughead maybe something like Betty and Veronica is trying to set up Jughead and reader, so they send them into a blind date or something? Thank you :)
I took a little liberty with it, in the fact that it’s technically a one sided blind date, but I hope you like it!
Remember that time when Sherlock discovered that the teammate Mary abandoned without so much as a backward glance, who endured six years of torture because of it, had some hard feelings and was trying to kill her, so Sherlock went to John with the information and the thumb drive to ask him what to do, and John said something along the lines of, “Yeah, if you offer to help her, she’ll definitely attack you like she did the last time you tried to help her, so we’d better just put a tracking device in the thumb drive now so that she doesn’t get too far when she runs after, because you know she will, Sherlock, that’s her pattern, and also maybe wear a bullet vest when you go meet her, yeah?” and Sherlock agreed to it and everything happened exactly the way they thought it would? Remember that? Just checking.
He felt like shit, his head pounding and his mouth dry as sandpaper. Slamming his hand down on his phone trying to silence the blaring of his alarm.
He got drunk last night, full on cry yourself to sleep and sleep on the toilet drunk, Jughead had never touched a drink before in his life but last night? He needed it.
“Good morning sunshine.” The familiar voice of his father brought him back to reality and he opened his eyes to see the man leaning in the tiny doorway of the trailer a sad smile on his face.
“Dad.” Jughead grunted out.
F.P settled down beside his son on the couch, pushing his feet to the ground and handing him a water bottle. “Care to tell me why you went through my hidden stash last night and puked all over my floor?”
Jughead groaned putting his hands to his temples “I just needed it, I’ll pay you back and I’ll clean up the mess.”
F.P shook his head “that’s not what I’m worried about kid, I’m more concerned with how you’ve never even tasted beer before and last night you drank an entire bottle of vodka, is it school problems?… girl problems?” F.P noticed the way Jughead winced at the mention of girl problems and nodded knowingly “Betty? The sweet blonde you brought over her last month? Your girlfriend right?”
Jughead shook his head, the familiar ache in his chest throbbing “not anymore, not ever again probably.”
“What happened? You two broke up?”
Jughead looked away staring at a spot on the far right wall “no. I broke up with her, she wanted nothing to do with it but I obviously won that fight.” He laughed bitterly before continuing, it felt better to just spit it all out “I thought she had feelings for Trev Brown, I see the way he looks at her ya know? Like he just wants to take her away from me, I pretty much told her that Trev can have her. He can make her happy, make her family happy. They can be the perfect high school sweethearts she was destined to be. She screamed at me, called me an idiot and then she….” he took a shaky breathe and looked directly at his father
F.P raised his brow and dropped a hand to his knee, knowing exactly what his son was going to say
“She said she loved me dad. Me. Not Trev, not Archie. Me. You’ll never guess what I did. Well I mean I’m sure you can, it’s what I always do. I ran away.”
F.P nodded sympathetically, he knew the effect his wife leaving had on Jughead, he had turned into some kind of woman hater but Betty Cooper seemed to break through all that and he saw his son genuinely happy for the first time in ages, he wasn’t about to let his boy lose that. He had an idea.
“It’ll work out son. I promise you.”
Jughead just nodded ,heading into the only bedroom in the trailer “I’m gonna go back to bed, sleep this off. Thanks dad”
As soon as the door shut, F.P had the phone in his hand, dialing the familiar number of one of his childhood best friends.
“Alice Cooper speaking, how may I help you?”
The prim and proper voice came through the line. F.P snorted, if only the town knew what a wild child she was when she was a kid.
“I swear to god Ally, you have the personality of a wet board.”
He heard the exhale of relief and she answered much more relaxed this time
“Save it Forsythe, how’s Jughead holding up? You know i love that boy but the way Betty was crying in her room last night made me want to throttle him.”
F.P laughed “A boy of my own heart, remember when Danny Clayton broke up with you, and Hal and I almost drove to his house to beat him up, you wouldn’t stop crying.”
Alice laughed through the speaker
“It was hard being fifteen. So anyway what’s the plan?”
F.P smirked into the phone
“Well it just so happens that my bike isn’t running properly and I may have to call a mechanic, I heard that Betty sometimes works in Hal’s mechanic shop, he tells me he’s very proud of what a little grease monkey she is. Well I’d like to request her to come and fix old rusty, you can tell her her dad is overbooked and is sending her for a house call. I’ll get the kids in a room together and they can talk it out.”
The other end went silent for a while when finally Alice snorted into the phone, laughing out loud
“I’ve gotta say Forsythe, you have always been the master of plans. This is almost as good as when you had a crush on Hermione Lodge and made me lock the two of you in a janitors closet “by accident”“
F.P smiled proudly
"I’m an opportunist.”
“Okay, it sounds like a plan. Expect Betty within the next hour.”
“Okay, oh and Ally?”
She answered almost immediately
“They’re gonna make it through all of this, we did. Maybe my fairytale didn’t work out but I’m gonna fix that too.” He was more reassuring himself than anything and Alice seemed to know that as she answered
“I know that sythe, anything you need. At all, you just give me a call.” She promised, before they both hung up.
Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on his porch, his bike parked in front of him, when the gorgeous blonde haired beauty approached him, she really was just like her mother, wild blonde curls and big green eyes.
“Mr.jones?” She smiled sadly, “you’re the house call?” sticking her hand out again. There were bags under her eyes and he noticed her palms were a bloody mess. She must’ve noticed his staring at the indent marks on her palms because she tucked her hands into her pockets and nodded towards his bike.
“This is the bike that’s been giving you problems? Oh I just love the old fashioned Harley’s!” Her eyes lit up as she ran a hand over the shiny chrome, she looked up at him excited “ya know, the very first Bike I ever fixed up was an original. I love the make of these beautiful babies.”
F.P was right about everything, this girl was the definition of a keeper. He smiled back at her,
“Come on inside and grab a drink then we can get started. It’s too hot out here for you to be working without water.”
Betty looked nervously at the house, he knew she was scanning for his son. He gave her a reassuring nudge and she smiled gratefully, thanking him profusely, sweet as sugar but definitely hiding some spice he thought happily, just what his son needed
As soon as she stepped into the trailer, F.P slammed the door shut causing Betty to jump and whip around
“JUGHEAD!!” He called, almost in an instant the boy was standing in front of the pair, sleepy eyes and messy hair, still in his jeans and black tshirt, suspenders dangling down. When Jugheads eyes caught Betty he instantly softened, the fear leaving his mind, that’s what this beautiful young lady did for his son, she soothed his troubled mind with just a glance.
Walking backwards out the door, F.P nodded
“Talk it out.”
He barely had the door shut when he heard the high pitched voice shout “is that alcohol? I swear to god Jughead Jones, if you’ve been drinking…”
Forsythe must have been waiting outside the door for atleast thirty minutes, listening to faint cries and shuffling feet. Suddenly the door swung open and the teen couple was wrapped up in each other, both watery eyed and smiling goofily “hey dad.” Jughead smiled at his father “were gonna head over to poptates, I’m hungry.” Betty giggled from beside him “when are you not hungry?” she smiled sassily running her fingers up his arm.
Jughead dropped a kiss to her forehead, staring down at her in complete adoration “touché, hey bets, you go ahead, i have to talk to my dad real quick.” Betty nodded at him moving to walk away before he gently grabbed her wrist “hey.” She looked up at him confused “I love you.” He whispered with a smile. Instantly her eyes softened and she grinned back “I love you too.” As she moved to walk away she wrapped Jugheads dad up in a bear hug, his eyes instantly wide as he smiled and patted her back
“Thankyou Mr.Jones.” He laughed “anytime love”
She headed off to her car as Jughead hung behind, turning to his father
“Thanks dad, you didn’t have to do that.”
F.P shook his head, placing an hand on his sons arm. “Yes I did Jughead, you’re my son and I’m here for you.”
For the first time in Jugheads life he believed those words. Smiling back he nodded, making his way over to Betty “I won’t be home late. See you tonight!” With that he sprinted away catching Betty by the waist and swinging her around while she giggled.
F.P watched the pair and smiled pulling his phone out and sending a quick text
His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said,
Stiles leaves Beacon Hills at the end of Sophomore year. He’s been abandoned by the pack, scarred by the hunters, and carries the equivalent of a volcano of magic inside him. Needless to say, his life sucks. But when Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills, over a year later and with a new persona, he isn’t the same powerless human the pack remembers. And when demons threaten Beacon Hills, he proves to everyone that sarcasm isn’t his only defence.
so this is a zimbits soulmate au in which the soulmate is your “best possible match out of all the people you’ve touched in your life yet”, be it romantic, platonic or familial, based on this post I made. (I want to continue it, but I still don’t know how I want to do it??? who knows, so here it goes)
Bitty had the same soulmate from the day of his birth, till the first proper day of college. Other people would have felt bitter, to have their mother be their soulmate, and in fact it was basis for its own fair share of bullying, but Bitty liked it.
He liked baking with her, and he liked making the kitchen their home. It was warm and uncomplicated, and his mother was his soulmate.
She was his soulmate, until the aforementioned day, when he started college and met the whole hockey team. Especially the captain.
Bitty stumbled, tried to hold himself up, and touched Jack Zimmermann. That was it, and suddenly his mother as best possible match was replaced. Just like that.
Of course he was excited at first, a possible romantic soulmate is everything he ever dreamed of. And since his mother was such a good match, Jack should have been an even better one. Should have been the key word, since the boy left Bitty in the locker room without a backward glance.
“I know mama,” Bitty sighs into his phone, wishing he would have skyped with his mom instead, “It was just a little disappointing, to be shrugged aside like that.”
“Give him some time,” she assured him over the phone, “you don’t know what happened in his past, or who his last match was. Maybe something happened, or it’s more complicated than you know, Dicky.”
“Yeah you’re right mama,” Bitty sighs and tries not to get impatient just with the thought of all the obstacles, he’ll probably has to overcome. He had hoped for something easy, just like his mom, but it seems like he was gonna have to fight. It’ll be worth it, he just knows that.
“His name’s Jack,” Bitty says, “he seemed nice to some of the older boys.”
He tries to remember the smile on Jack’s face, when Shitty had tried to jump onto his back.
“It’ll all work out, Dicky, you’ll see!”
His mama’s word are reassuring as always, and just for one second, he already misses their bond.
[A/N: Okay, so I wrote this to get myself out of a little writing rut, below is the little scenario I came up with, it’s only a little something and it isn’t taking itself too seriously but I hope you like it! Also it is nearly 2.am for me so sorry if this is riddled with errors!]
Jughead hates (Y/N), her sunny disposition is unbearable: her smile is too wide, her laugh
is too sweet, and her eyes are too bright. She is in fact the exact antithesis
of Jughead Jones and he resents that.
He resents the day
that she was ever introduced to the group, because since that day she has been
nothing but an annoying distraction.
Her agreeing to join
the Blue & Gold could possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to
him but being partnered with him? Somebody had to be kidding, right?
‘You just never
shut up do you?’ Jughead Jones lifted his head from his laptop, his eyebrows
were furrowed together and he wore a sour expression.
‘Jughead!’ Betty scolded and hit him lightly on the arm.
‘Well you know, some of us don’t want to listen to your
incessant ramblings on about insignificant things, and by some of us – I mean
‘If you don’t like it then you know where the door is Jug.’
Veronica pointedly stated, her meticulous eyebrow raised in annoyance.
‘I got here first,
she knows where the door is.’ He
grumbled tossing (Y/N) a mean look.
(Y/N) had gotten used to this attitude by now. At first his
unprovoked attacks on her had cut, deeply if she had to admit it, but after six months of sharing a booth she now
remained unfazed by the latest comments.
‘If you were paying any attention Jug,’ (Y/N) sweetly
smiled, ‘you’d know that I was talking about the Blue and Gold, and how I can’t wait to come and help out with it.’
‘No.’ He stated simply, he looked towards Betty. ‘Betty, no.’
‘Actually yes, Jug.’ Betty smiled at (Y/N) brightly as she
backed her up.
‘Oh yeah, and what are you
going to write?’ Jughead scoffed. ‘Wait no, let me guess – you’re going to
be Agony Aunt Columnist.’
‘No actually,’ (Y/N) huffed, ‘I’m going to be helping you.’
Before Jughead could begin to protest, Betty jumped in.
‘(Y/N), has connections Jug. Connections that you don’t
have. Connections that will prove to be useful.’
Jughead scowled, he hopped over the back of the booth and
stomped his way out of the diner, laptop under his arm.
‘Well, this should be fun.’ (Y/N) vibrantly smiled.
Jughead stalked the halls of the empty high school. Tonight
was the first night he would be spending going through all the evidence (Y/N)
had accumulated over the week, to say that he was dreading it would be an
He had actively avoided coming into contact with her over
the week, if he was going to spend a full night alone with her he needed to
reserve as much tolerance as he could. This meant: abandoning Pop’s, evading
Veronica’s bi-weekly movie night and missing Archie’s football game.
Anywhere she would likely be, he dodged.
What he didn’t expect to find, as he traversed through the
quiet halls, was a sight most spectacular. As he neared the designated room for
the Blue and Gold, Jughead could hear
the faint melody of a familiar song travelling by echo through the corridor.
The closer he got, the more recognisable it became.
Simple Plan? He
thought curiously to himself. So early
The image that graced him was something precious to behold.
In the centre of the room (Y/N) stood, pencil in hand, eyes
closed, and passionately singing along to Simple Plan’s I’m Just A Kid. She danced with abandon, hopped from one foot to
the other, sang into the pencil.
Jughead stood by the window of the door, eyes transfixed and
unable to shift the smile that had crept onto his lips. As the song began to
reach its climax she picked up another pencil and began to drum the rhythm on
the table. Jughead’s smile only got wider as she continued to dance and sing to
the song and then the gig was up.
(Y/N) opened her eyes mid jump and saw the grinning face of
Jughead Jones staring back through the window at her. She immediately scrambled
to switch the music off and a very smug Jughead opened the door.
‘Oh please,’ he begged, ‘do not stop on my account.’
(Y/N) stood stoically, her hands folded in front of her.
‘Simple Plan? Seriously? I would not have pegged you as a
fan of theirs.’
(Y/N) turned her back to the boy and went to take a seat at
‘Well, Jughead Jones, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.’ She glanced backwards at
the boy still stood in the doorway, her eyes glittered brightly and she offered
a charming smile.
After watching her little performance, Jughead Jones felt
more than a little inclined to know every single thing about the alluring girl
that sat in front of him.
Just gonna tag my usual’s - if you wanna be tagged or untagged ever than just let me know:
For the @acotarkinkmeme here is Nesta and Cassian’s visit into the the Hewn City!
Prompt: Pretend Dating Trope; Nesta and Cassian go to an event in The Court of Nightmares and they have to pretend to be dating. Cassian loves it a bit too much, Nesta is a bit overwhelmed but decides that two can play at that game. Feel free to make it as sexually tense as possible. Bonus points if Nesta gets to wear a dress like the one Feyre wore under the mountain and makes Cassian forget his own name (this is basically the scene where Feyre + the Inner Circle go to the Court of Nightmares but for Nessian)
The plan was straightforward. Go to the Court of Nightmares and figure out who was the traitor that gave away secret intelligence to Hybern.
Cassian and Nesta were the ones chosen to go on the mission.
Their roles were simple. Cassian was to maintain the persona of the High Lord’s General who eagerly waited to sink his sharpened blade into anyone who so much as gave him a wrong look.
And Nesta was to be a meek female who was Cassian’s latest conquest.
The amount livid words that spewed from Nesta’s mouth was more colorful than the Rainbow of Velaris.
Even more so when she found out that the dress she was to wear was a sheer fabric that revealed more than it covered up.
She strode to the large room where she was to meet Cassian and Rhysand who would winnow them there since Cassian’s wings were still in recovery.
Outside the door she stopped when Cassian’s voice filtered out.
“I’m not going with her Rhysand,” Cassian said loud enough that Nesta could tell he had been arguing with his High Lord for some time.
“We don’t have a choice with Mor and Azriel on their own mission,” Rhysand replied in a controlled tone. “Why are you so afraid to let her go to the Hewn City? She can handle herself and with you there no other male will approach her if they believe she has been claimed by you.”
“She’s not ready,” Cassian gritted out. “Honestly I’m not ready for her to be in that wretched place. How can you expect me to treat her like a whore?”
“The same way I had to with Feyre for the sake of human and fae alike,” Rhysand said a bit sharply. For a moment there was silence before Rhysand continued softly enough that Nesta barely caught.
“I know you care for her and you don’t want to ruin the trust you’ve built so far with her, but we need you to do this Cassian. You and Nesta could be what shifts the war in our favor if this goes well.”
Cassian said nothing. Nesta decided that she didn’t want to hear anymore of this if Cassian decided to keep talking about her as though she were some child who couldn’t handle herself.
She would show him that the Court of Nightmares should tremble before her.
Nesta glided into the room, Making sure that Cassian saw the full effect of her entrance.
And his reaction did not disappoint.
His eyes widened as they took in the sheer silver fabric that hugged every curve of her body. Whorls of black beading covered the more intimate areas of her cleavage and lower regions. Enough to tease, but clearly showed off the emphasis of her shape.
Pale skin was visible through the sheer fabric that plunged between her breasts and the low cut line in the back of the dress.
She stepped forward with her long leg slipping through the long slit that ran up the length of her lower thigh. One wrong step could mean a disaster of modesty if Nesta wasn’t careful to walk in even strides. Yet considering this dress and all that it showed rather than hid perhaps modesty was already tossed to the side.
Cassian’s gaze wandered her entire body. Devouring the unexpected sight of Nesta revealing so much skin with that flimsy piece of fabric he couldn’t even believe was a dress. He could easily tear it apart with a flick of his fingers.
He watched her in rapt interest as she closed the distance between them. Her stormy blue eyes were lined with kohl to give the illusion of smoke and stardust intertwined. That look of fierce determination accompanied by that revealing dress made Cassian forget his own name for a second.
The only thoughts running through his head were of Nesta and how it would feel to run his fingers between that slit in her dress to find her core and see if he could bring his name from those glossy lips of hers.
Ravenous hunger written openly across his face made Nesta shiver in triumph though that was short-lived when Rhysand interrupted the moment asking if they were ready to leave.
“I’m more than ready,” Nesta answered. “So let’s stop wasting time. Unless Cassian wants to keep acting like a drooling dog with his mouth open.”
Cassian blinked and realized the baiting tone she was using. “If you don’t like me drooling then perhaps you would prefer licking sweetheart.”
Because we both know how much you like my tongue on your body.