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Until the End, and Even Then- Cassian x fem!reader(oneshot)
Summary: She stood beside him through centuries of war, loyalty carved into every scar. But when new faces arrived, his heart turned elsewhere, leaving hers to quietly break. In the end, she made the choice no one else could—and no one saw it coming.
Warnings: Angst, major character death, no happy ending, Cassian is attracted to Nesta, Cassian's realization hits too late
A/N: This is something that I'm writing from my own experience (minus the entire fantasy, death part of course lol) so to anyone who has also ever been forgotten by someone they once held so dear, I see you. You are one of a kind strong, trust me. <3
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They had always been together.
From the moment she could remember--cold wind biting at her face, Illyrian mountains stretching far beyond her reach--Cassian had been there. Loud. Fierce. Covered in bruises and full of fire. He was her first friend, her first constant in a world that had never promised her anything.
Orphaned, half-starved, and unwanted--like so many others in the camps--they'd fought for food, for warmth, for scraps of attention from the males who treated them like dogs and broke them down worse. But while the other boys laughed at her, told her she didn't belong with a sword in her hand, Cassian had simply handed her a blade and said, "Then make them eat their words."
And so she did.
They trained in secret, often at night, after the others had collapsed from exhaustion. Y/N would wrap her fingers tighter around the hilt and mimic every movement he showed her, again and again, until the blisters burst. She bled, fell, got back up. Cassian never went easy on her. That was the closest thing to respect a female could earn in the mountains.
Years passed like that -- cold mornings, warm fires stolen behind supply tents, bruised knuckles, split lips and laughter that echoed across the frostbitten peaks. When Rhysand arrived, still a kid--half-smirk, half-chubby cheeks, already too pretty to belong in the war camps -- they'd eyed him with suspicion, but Cassian, somehow, had decided to trust him.
And where Cassian went, Y/N followed.
It wasn't long before they became something more than just orphans scraping by. Rhys, Azriel, Cassian, and her. A strange little knot of survival. She wasn't one of the males, not really -- not to the others. But to them? She was part of the spine. The only female Illyrian to keep up, to carve her own place into the mud and stone of the war camps and not be broken by it.
She remembered when Mor came, golden and defiant and bleeding, and Y/N hated how much she wanted to protect her. It was Mor who told her she didn't have to prove anything to anyone. That being strong didn't mean being silent.
So she trained harder. Rose faster.
By the time Rhys became High Lord, Cassian was made Commander of the Night Court's armies. And Y/N? She earned her place among the elite aerial units -- flying over territories that once spat at her for daring to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with males. Now, she led them.
Still, even with a blade on her back and command in her voice, she always flew beside him. Always had.
There was a time -- she couldn't remember exactly when -- when looking at him had started to hurt in a different way. A quieter ache. A secret, steady bloom that rooted in her chest every time he laughed, or grinned at her like they still shared everything.
She never told him.
Not once.
Because how could you tell someone you'd loved them your entire life -- when they still looked at you like you were a part of their past, not their future?
There were memories she never spoke of. Ones she kept tucked away like old medals -- quiet, precious things no one else knew existed.
Like that time they snuck out of the camps, bloodied and aching after a brutal training day, to lie on the snow-packed cliff edge and count the stars. She remembered how Cassian had fallen asleep halfway through her retelling of an old Illyrian myth, his head tipped back, mouth parted, curls tangled by the wind. He looked so peaceful -- so young. She hadn't slept that night, just watched the stars fade into dawn beside him.
Or the way he always noticed when her hands were too scraped from sparring. He'd never say anything outright -- just grumble about her being "reckless as hell" while slipping a salve into her pocket and walking away before she could thank him.
He always called her trouble.
And when he said it, it didn't sound like an insult. It sounded like a secret.
There was the time he'd gotten hurt -- truly hurt, chest torn open after intercepting a blow meant for her -- and she sat beside his cot all night. Not as a soldier. Not even as a friend.
But as someone who hadn't known she was in love until she watched the rise and fall of his breath and realized it could stop.
There was one night she'd never let herself speak of.
Years ago, before Rhys was crowned, before any of them had titles or thrones or scars too deep to name, a storm had grounded them in a half-ruined outpost near the border. Rain lashed the mountain walls. The roof leaked. The fire barely stayed lit. But they were warm -- just the two of them -- wrapped in old cloaks, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped barracks room, waiting out the storm.
Cassian had been quiet that night. Not tired. Just quiet in a way he rarely was. She remembered how he kept rubbing a spot just below his ribs--an injury he hadn’t told anyone about. Typical. Always throwing himself into danger first and thinking later.
So she made him let her look. Bandaged the wound. Muttered something about how even war generals could bleed like the rest of them. He didn’t smile. Not then.
But when she finished, he caught her hand--just held it. Calloused, warm, unmoving.
“If we weren’t always fighting,” he said softly, “do you think we’d know how to live?”
She hadn’t known what to say.
And maybe that’s why she never answered. Maybe that’s why she just held his hand in the dark, listening to the thunder, pretending--for a few heartbeats--that his words meant something more.
He fell asleep like that.
Still holding her hand.
She never brought it up again.
Neither did he.
But sometimes, in the middle of battle, or during those cold, endless nights in the skies, she’d feel that phantom pressure around her fingers and wonder--just once--if he ever remembered, too.
She remembered the late-night flying sessions they used to do just for the thrill of it. No missions, no reports -- just two fools in the sky, racing the wind and whooping like children. He once grabbed her hand mid-air and swung her into a dive with him, the two of them spiraling through the clouds, breathless with laughter.
"You and me, Y/N" he'd said afterwards, as they lay on their backs in the grass. "We're the best godsdamned pair in these skies."
And she'd believed him.
Still did.
Even when things began to change.
Even when the skies they flew together stopped feeling like freedom, and started feeling like goodbye.
Change didn't come with fire and thunder. It came quietly.
It started with Feyre, first brought into the Court of Dreams like a storm with a broken heart. Y/N liked her well enough. Strong, clever, endlessly curious. A fighter in her own right. Y/N admired that.
And she understood what it meant to carry the weight of trauma in your bones. To still wake up every night ready to fight ghosts no one else could see. So she didn't begrudge the attention Feyre received.
But then Nesta came.
And something in Cassian changed.
Y/N remembered the day Nesta was Made -- turned into High Fae by the Cauldron, wrath and ruin forged into a body that hadn't asked for it. She remembered the moment she saw her for the first time -- standing still, face cold, rage sharp enough to slice the air in half.
Cassian was already staring.
Y/N told herself it was concern. Shock. Empathy, maybe. Cassian had always protected those who couldn't protect themselves.
But day after day, month after month, mission after mission...his attention drifted. And not just his eyes. His words, his silences, his moods -- they all began to orbit Nesta inch by inch.
It wasn't that he stopped caring about Y/N. He still trained with her, still sparred, still flew beside her in perfect formation. He still laughed with her after patrols and still called her trouble.
But he wasn't with her anymore.
Not really.
She never told him.
Never interrupted the way his eyes lingered when Nesta left a room. Never stopped him from glancing over his shoulder when Nesta passed them in the training ring.
She smiled through it all.
Because if she didn't -- if she let it show -- what would be left of her that wasn't just pain?
So she kept fighting.
Kept flying.
Kept waiting for the ache to fade.
And it never did.
It started with little things.
"Do you think she likes strong tea or sweet?" he asked one morning, halfway through tying his hair. Y/N had blinked at him, momentarily forgetting they were prepping for a reconnaissance flight. "Nesta," he added, not noticing the way she stiffened.
"I...don't know," she said after a pause. "Maybe both. Depends on the day."
He grinned, as if that answer was charming, then returned to his blade, humming some tune under his breath.
That was the first time he asked. But not the last.
There were days he sought her out for strategy, only to pivot the conversation into "Nesta didn't eat again today," or "I think she likes books about romance -- should I bring her one?"
Y/N gave him advice. Every time.
What else could she do?
Because if she pulled back, even a little -- if she stopped listening -- she was afraid he'd stop coming to her altogether.
One night, after a particularly grueling training session with new recruits, he sat beside her on the wall overlooking the mountains.
"She's colder than the northern ridge," he muttered, tossing a rock over the ledge. "But she burns under it all, I can feel it."
Y/N didn't speak.
Cassian leaned his head back. "You'd like her more if you talked to her. She's not as awful as she seems."
"I never said she was awful."
"No, but..." He turned toward her with that boyish, lopsided grin that used to be only hers. "You don't really give her much of a chance. Why?"
Y/N exhaled through her nose and said nothing.
Cassian leaned forward again, elbows on knees. "I just want to get through to her. Make her see she's not alone in this court."
Y/N's throat tightened. She almost laughed. Almost said, I've been here beside you longer than she's even known your name.
But she didn't.
Instead, she placed her hand on his shoulder and murmured, "You'll find a way. You always do."
Then came the first time she saw them together.
She hadn't meant to stumble upon them -- just returning from dinner and a flight, windburned and half-drenched from a sudden storm, walking through the garden to dry her wings before heading in.
And there they were.
Cassian and Nesta under one of the arches, their faces close, the moonlight casting silver over his siphons and her hair. He said something -- something that made Nesta snort softly and shake her head -- and then he smiled.
Not the loud, showy one he gave to the world.
The soft one.
The rare one.
The one he used to give to her.
Y/N backed away before they saw her. She told herself she didn't care. That she was only tired.
But that night, she flew above the cliffs until her wings ached, just to make sure the wind drowned out the sound of her heart breaking.
She didn't plan on going to Rhysand that day.
But something in her had cracked. Maybe it was watching Cassian walk Nesta back from training as they laughed at something she didn't hear. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, that distant softness he only seemed to carry now when Nesta was around. Or maybe it was just the silence -- how she could be beside him and still feel a thousand miles away.
So she went.
Stormed into the Townhouse, boots echoing down the hall as she made her way to Rhysand's study.
He looked up the moment she entered, unsurprised by her presence but visibly taken aback by the sharpness in her eyes.
"Y/N," he greeted. Calm, careful. "Is something wrong?"
"I want a mission," she said. Flatly. No preamble.
Rhys raised a brow. "A mission?"
"You send everyone else. Spies, scouts, diplomats, Azriel, Mor. I'm not asking for a vacation, Rhys. I need to do something." Her hands were clenched at her sides. She hated how desperate she sounded.
He studied her for a long moment. "No."
She blinked. "What?"
"I said no," he repeated, voice still gentle.
Her jaw tightened. "Why? I've led aerial units. I've fought in more skirmishes than half your court. Don't give me that protective bullshit, Rhys. If this is about Cassian- "
"It's not," he said, standing slowly. "It's not about your skill or record. It's not about Cassian or anyone else."
"Then what is it?" she demanded, the frustration curling in her chest like flame. Rhys's expression shifted then--softer, but heavier. Like a burden he didn't want to speak aloud.
"Because war is coming," he said quietly. "Hybern's army is preparing to move. We received confirmation yesterday."
Y/N went still.
"I'm not sending anyone on a mission anymore," Rhys continued. "Not unless they're tied directly to the front lines and critical strategy. I can't afford to scatter my forces now. We're weeks -- maybe days -- away from open conflict."
She felt like the floor dropped from beneath her.
War.
She hadn't realized it was that close.
Her throat bobbed. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"I was going to," Rhys said. "Soon. Cassian and Azriel are already working through the first phase of deployment. You would've been briefed tomorrow."
Y/N stared at him. Her mind spun, trying to process it all -- the sudden shift from emotional wreckage to impending destruction.
Rhys stepped closer, voice lower now. "I know you've been feeling...out of place. But don't take yourself out of the fight just because you're hurting."
Her mouth parted. He knew.
Of course he did.
Rhysand saw everything.
She turned to go, forcing herself to keep her spine straight. To ignore the pounding in her chest.
"Y/N," he said, as she reached the door.
She paused.
"You're not invisible," he said gently. "Not to all of us."
She didn't look back.
She didn't trust herself to.
If only she knew that this was the beginning of her end.
The war room was colder than usual.
Maps sprawled across the obsidian table, dotted with tokens, notes, and tiny carved markers of armies not yet moved. Rhysand stood at the head of the room beside Feyre, both of them grave and steady, their bond humming like quiet lightning between them. Azriel lingered in the shadows. Mor and Amren leaned over the map with creases between their brows.
And Cassian -- he stood near Nesta.
Close.
Too close.
Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the layout of Hybern’s front lines, her hands clasped behind her back to keep them from shaking. She listened to the breakdown of units, flight formations, ground forces. She took note of her assignment. She would lead the flank--high altitude, fast and quiet--sweeping in with her unit from the eastern pass at Rhys’s signal.
No one questioned her role. No one doubted her capability.
And still, when Cassian spoke, when he gave orders or reassurances to the other commanders, he never once looked at her.
Not once.
Near the end of the meeting, Feyre mentioned the civilians being evacuated from a nearby village -- how their movement might delay her forces by half a day. Nesta murmured something about keeping an eye on the terrain, something sharp and practical.
Cassian chuckled softly.
“That’s my girl,” he said.
And that was it.
Y/N didn’t remember the rest of the meeting. Only the roaring in her ears.
"I need to speak with you," Y/N snapped, grabbing Cassian's arm as he exited the chamber.
He gave her a look -- flat, unreadable. But he followed.
The room she chose was small and unused, tucked off a quiet hallway of the House of Wind. As soon as the door shut, the silence snapped between them.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded.
Cassian blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she hissed. "You've barely looked at me for days. You act like I'm a stranger -- like I don't exist. But the second she speaks- "
He cut her off. "Don't do this, Y/N."
"No, you don't get to do this," she said, voice cracking. "I have stood by your side through every godsdamned war, every loss, every scar. And now- now I'm just what? A name on your flight charts?"
He shook his head. "This isn't the time."
"Then when is it?" she snapped. "After one of us dies tomorrow? After you tell her 'that's my girl' again in front of everyone like the rest of us don't matter?"
Cassian's jaw clenched. "She is my girl."
The silence that followed nearly dropped her to her knees. "I know," she whispered. "Believe me--I know."
But he wasn't done.
"You act like I've betrayed you. I didn't make you stay beside me all these years. I didn't ask you to be anything more than a soldier. If you wanted more, Y/N...you should've said something about your position a long time ago. Don't take it out in jealousy now."
Her breath caught. Like a punch to the gut.
A soldier.
That's all she was to him. All this time, that's all he saw her as.
He thought she was complaining about her title, about her position in the court. About Nesta 'outshining' her.
Gods, how stupid is he. How....how little has she truly known of him.
"Would it have mattered?" she asked quietly. "If...if I had done something?"
One question. Two different meanings.
Y/N knew he didn't get the meaning she wanted him to get.
But she asked him anyway.
Cassian hesitated.
And that was her answer.
He turned to leave, hand on the doorknob.
"I'm sorry," he said over his shoulder. "But don't bring this into battle. We all have our roles. Focus on yours."
The door shut behind him before she could speak.
The air was cold behind the tents.
Y/N had gone out to clear her head before the final camp briefing. Before dawn. Before it all began.
She'd only wanted a moment. But instead, she saw them.
Cassian leaning in, murmuring something to Nesta. Her hand curled in his. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then drew her close, his brow resting lightly against hers.
Y/N looked away.
The next morning, Rhys gave his speech--strong, steady, a High Lord ready to lead his court into fire.
They all embraced one another. Azriel clasped her shoulder. Mor hugged her tight. Feyre gave her a quiet, grateful smile.
Cassian didn't speak to her. She didn't look at him. No goodbyes. No glances.
Not even when they split off in separate directions, wings unfurling into a sky that might not welcome them back.
The battlefield was a storm.
Wings filled the sky, blotting out the sun. Screams tore through the clouds--Illyrian war cries, magic surging through the air like lightning. The earth shook beneath their boots. Blades clashed, smoke rose, and still, the tide of Hybern forces surged forward.
Y/N’s hands were soaked in blood--hers, others, she didn’t know anymore. Her wings burned with exhaustion, her chest heaved. But she didn’t stop.
Couldn’t.
She spotted Cassian midair, diving through a wave of soldiers.
Alive. He was alive.
She'd done her part. Led the eastern flank. Cleared the path. Reinforced Azriel's squad. She was ready to die for it. But not like this.
Not like this.
And then--
A pulse. Magic.
Wrong magic.
It throbbed through the air like a heartbeat from something long dead and newly reawakened. She felt it in her bones, in the marrow of her wings. Not just power--unmaking. A rift tearing open the weave of the world itself.
Her head snapped toward the Cauldron, still half-shrouded in smoke and blood and broken stone. It was pulsing--no, breathing. Swollen with ancient energy, black and slick and endless. She saw the last of the Hybern priests retreating, their mouths twisted in triumph, even as they fled.
The wards around the Cauldron had fallen. No one had noticed. Until now.
And the spell--gods, that spell. She could see it. Magic coiling around it, forming jagged patterns in the sky, drawn in impossible runes of blood and bone and sacrifice. It wasn’t just a weapon.
It was a curse.
A final death sentence. A wave of devastation meant to devour the battlefield in one last scream of ruin. No one would survive it—not Rhys, not Feyre, not Azriel or Mor, not Cassian or Nesta.
Not even the Cauldron itself.
One final blow to level the world before falling into silence.
She didn’t wait. Didn’t think. Didn’t call for help or backup or approval. There wasn’t time.
So she moved.
Her blade was slick in her grip as she surged forward, slashing through the two Hybern soldiers guarding the outer ring of magic. They fell without sound. Her wings snapped wide, catching what lift the broken air could still give her, and she launched.
The Cauldron loomed before her now--closer than it had ever been. It wasn’t just an object. It was a force, ancient and alive, and it saw her coming. The runes flared, the spell reacted, but she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t stop.
Because something inside her--deep and quiet and final--had already decided.
It was always going to end this way.
She let her power rise, the last of it. Poured it into her limbs, her wings, her lungs. Not to fight—no, she wasn’t strong enough to undo the curse. But she could interrupt it. She could anchor it. Draw it into herself.
And by doing so, burn with it. It would hurt. She knew that. It would be agony. But pain wasn’t new. Dying wasn’t what she feared.
Being forgotten--that was what had always terrified her.
But now?
Now, there was no one left to remember her the way she wanted.
So she embraced the storm.
He felt it before he saw her.
A sharp shift in the wind. A scream in his chest he hadn’t yet released. And then--
Y/N.
Running. Flying. Toward the Cauldron.
“No,” he breathed. “No -- NO!”
He dove. Wings burning from overuse, pushing harder, faster. Screaming her name.
“Y/N!”
She didn’t look back. Not at first.
But right before she reached the Cauldron’s circle--where the magic cracked the earth, splitting stone and sky--she turned.
Just once. Her eyes met his.
And she smiled.
Not bitter. Not sad.
Just… soft. Steady. Peaceful.
A thousand memories flooded her mind in that final second.
Cassian holding her hand in the barracks. Cassian teaching her to fly.
Cassian laughing, bloodied and breathless, after a spar. Cassian saying, "You and me, Y/N--we’re the best godsdamned pair in these skies."
And then--
She threw herself into the light.
“Y/N!” he roared, his wings tearing at the air, throwing himself toward her like he could still reach her in time, still pull her back, still undo what had already been set in motion.
Nesta called after him, grabbed for his arm, but he wrenched away.
Too late.
A flash of light erupted--searing white, violent silver, threads of raw blue magic exploding outward in a perfect ring.
The sound tore across the battlefield like thunder cracking the world open.
Cassian hit the ground--hard. His knees buckled beneath him. His wings collapsed. He screamed her name again, but it was lost in the storm.
The Cauldron imploded.
Folded in on itself in a pulse of ancient power, taking everything with it. The runes dissolved. The curse shattered.
And when the light cleared--
There was nothing.
No body. No wings. No sound.
Only the faint shimmer of magic still curling in the breeze--burning out, like embers trying to hold onto their last breath.
Cassian stared, chest heaving. Blood on his hands. Dirt in his mouth. The place where she’d stood moments ago was empty.
The world went silent. And he knew--without needing to be told.
She was gone.
The war was won. The Cauldron lay in ruins--shattered, unmade, its dark power turned to dust beneath the morning sun.
But Cassian didn’t move. Didn’t celebrate. Didn’t speak.
He stood where she had fallen, on blackened earth that still hissed with dying magic. Smoke curled in the wind. Bodies lay silent. Somewhere behind him, Rhys was giving orders. Feyre was healing soldiers. Nesta… Nesta was calling his name.
But he didn’t turn.
His hands were filthy. Shaking. Bloodied from clawing at rubble, from searching--gods, from hoping.
And then--buried beneath a patch of scorched soil and ash--he found it.
A small, warped flight pendant. The one he’d given her years ago. A joke, at the time. “You’ll be the death of me,” he’d said when she outpaced him mid-air. “But you’ll look good doing it.”
Now it was half-melted, the chain snapped. The ribbon she’d tied it with--red, like the ribbon she once wore in her hair--burned to nearly nothing.
Cassian fell to his knees.
His fingers trembled as he turned the pendant over.
There--etched faintly into the back, almost missed beneath the grime--was a message.
“If I die, let him know I did it with love.”
His breath broke. Not a gasp. Not a sob.
It was silence cracking.
Because she had never told him. Never once said the words.
And now they were carved into metal--buried, hidden, meant to be found only after it was too late.
Cassian bowed his head, pressing the pendant to his forehead as the wind howled around him. His voice was hoarse, empty, barely audible when he whispered,
“You were never supposed to go without knowing. Gods, you were never supposed to go.”
The battlefield blurred.
“You flew beside me in every war. And I never saw you falling.”
And in the Wind…
A breeze swept through the field, warm despite the ash.
And if Cassian had looked up just then, he might’ve seen a glimmer in the sky--something like a wingbeat. Something like a goodbye.
summary The quiet librarian YN never thought that the bold and fierce biker Cassian would turn her world upside down. She fights not to fall for him - but some battles are meant to be lost.
Words 5k
warnings drinking, getting (almost)roofied, fluff
an Thank you my beta, lovely @daughter-of-lethe . I must say to you that the rescue scene is from another fic. This one (Blind Date). I read it some time ago and it got stuck in my head. I wanted Cassian and YN to have it as well, because I liked it so much🩷 so I rewrote it as best as I could. Thanks go out to @invisibleanonymousmonsters for this series, I reread it every couple of months and fall in love with it all over again every time.
spotify playlist back to masterlist
YN
I cursed under my breath as I unlocked the screen of my phone for the thirtieth time.
Four more minutes and I’m going inside again, I swore to myself as I stood in front of the house I lived in.
After the disastrous welcome party, Elain promised to get me settled into this new city. One day we had lunch and she swiped through my long forgotten SparkMate account, letting her finger swish to the left and right for every other male that appeared on the screen, searching for guys that may fit me. I should have deleted it long ago. I just installed it because I was desperate. A lady had needs and this was the app that served that. Quick fun, so strands attached. Unlucky for me that my strands get attached quite easily. She sorted out one male who instantly dm’ed me and asked for a date. My matchmaker Elain, did the writing for me as I devoured the last noodles from my plate.
He wasn't even my type but I didn't want to disappoint her in saying no to all the guys she presented to me. He was blonde and had stunning eyes, his name was Tamlin and he had a lot of photos of himself with a mask on, showing off his muscles in the mirror of his bathroom or the gym. At least he had a decent body but the rest screamed ‘stay the fuck away’.
The honk of a car startled me out of the shiver then ran along my arms and my head shot up at it. The front window sunk down and my date waved a hand from the driver's seat towards me, hushing me inside. I recognized his face from the photos as I hurried to the passenger door next to him.
You could call me desperate for jumping inside the car, he didn't even park or stop the motor or come up to me to lead me to his car. How low had I sunken? He was 26 minutes late and I was furious at myself for not going back into my apartment to spend the friday evening with myself and a good book. He drove off before I was able to fasten my belt, letting the engine howl along the narrow street. Did I even want to get laid tonight? Maybe it was worth a try.
As we drove across the city the piercing smell of dusty roses and his aftershave stung in my nose as he held the bare minimum of conversation with me. What was my name and if I liked his car were the only questions he asked. I thought he was being nervous, so I asked what he was doing for work and if he had any hobbies and so on - the usual stuff - but all his answers bored me even more and I considered jumping out of the car even without rolling down the window.
When he pulled the car into park I had not the slightest idea where we were. North or south, uptown or downtown, it could have been all of the above. To me it was as if he cruised through the whole city just to show off his shiny car.
As I exited the car a motorbike caught my attention. I knew that the black machine belonged to one of Elain's friends. The red wings on the sides of the tank gave away that it was Cassian’s bike.
Fuck the cauldron. It wasn't even the thing that strangers saw me on an awkward first date, but that someone I knew might see me with that guy wandering off into the darkest corner of the whole bar. I wanted the ground to open and to swallow me whole.
After he winked at the bartender and sat down on the damp velvet of the sofa, he sprawled a possessive arm on the back of the couch behind me. At least he reached forward and handed me a shot. “Here, drink up.” he gestured to me to swallow the clear liquid that reeked of cheap tequila. Not to be rude, I followed his instructions and downed the small glass. It burned its way towards my empty stomach, I hoped that it would at least take the edge off both of us. At best, a few shots could loosen his tongue and we could have an actual conversation. At worst…he wanted me to get drunk.
As I listened to him prattle about his car and what he did for a living, my eyes drove off over the lively crowd surrounding the bar as I suddenly got a glimpse of a dark haired male that stood out between everyone else.
Cassian.
His eyes locked with mine. First he frowned but then a wide smile, that tied knots in my stomach, spread across his face. I waved and smiled shyly at the friendly face before Tamlin grabbed my chin fiercely and forced me to meet his stare. His blue eyes burned with ice cold fire. My skin pebbled as the rage from his gaze settled into me. “You’re looking at another man in my bar? He’s a douche. Don't waste your time with this loser, puppet.”
My brows knitted and I jerked my chin free of his vice-like grip. “He’s just a friend of my girlfriend.” I spat at him harshly and his eyes darkened at my remark. “Your eyes are on me from now on.” he warned as he straightened up to block my view.
I liked my men being possessive and dominant, but mostly in the sheets and not on our first date.
“You’re a fierce little thing, I wonder what you can do with that bratty mouth of yours.” he stared down at me, tightening his arm around me.
“Maybe we could start right here.” He took my hand and guided it from his knee upwards to his thigh. Fear surged through me at the way he grabbed my hand. Just before I could feel his private parts I slipped my hand away and held it to my chest as if I just burned myself, hoping that he wouldnt grope me and slid an inch farther away from him.
“Playing hard to get, I see.” he leaned forward to reach for his glass and said. “I’m going to go to the restroom and when I’m back I’ll show you what real fun looks like.” He abruptly stood up and strode off with his chest puffed. After peeling my eyes off him my view wandered to the cocktail he got me and I could swear that something dissolved in it.
I’m not getting roofied on my second weekend in a new city.
I had to get out of here. I took a glimpse at my phone but it already shut down into power saving mode. There was no way I could call a lyft, it certainly wouldn't even survive the next five minutes. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, I went towards the bar to ask the bartender to discreetly call me a cab but the bar was packed, there was no way of getting through to them.
My head swam at the thought of being chained to Tamlin in the middle of nowhere, needing him to take me home with the risk of being used for his desires.
Deep breaths
One
Two
Three
I needed air. I spun around and lurched for the door as a voice called me. “YN, wait.” My head shot to him like a deer in the headlights. It was Cassian who fought his way through the masses of people. “Wait,” he called again and stopped at a measured distance from me and held his hands out. “Are you alright?”
His worried eyes bored into mine and I felt like crying “I- I don’t know.” I stammered. “I was with this guy but I think he tried to roofie me. I want to go home. Could you- could you call me a taxi? My battery is dead. I swear I have money, I could pay you-”
“Don't worry. I’m gonna get you out of here.” he said with a steadfast voice and I let him guide me out the door, his hand gently brushing the little of my back as he held the door open for me. I hurried outside but the clash of cold air only increased the panic that flared up in my chest. My hands trembled at the thought of being trapped here with Tamlin. Cassian and I were halfway across the parking lot when an angry curse slit the air “You little slut are planning on running away?”
I froze at Tamlin's voice. Cassian calmly said to me “Put on that helmet and the jacket.” and nudged me softly towards where a dozen bikes were parked in a row. “Go to my bike. Don’t stop moving.” Without even thinking my body reacted to his command and set me into motion. From the corner of my eye I saw Cassian striding back to Tamlin but I was too far away to hear what they said. Tamlin was tall but Cassian towered over him and snarled something at him, his head ducked and the muscles in his neck stood out. Tamlin would be a fool to challenge that beast of a man for a fight.
I slid into the too large jacket, my hands shook as I fumbled with the clasp but my eyes were on Cassian. Tamlin pushed his shoulder but Cassian was rooted to the ground and took an aggressive step forward. I thought he would punch him but instead he fisted his hands and held them on his sides. I don't know what Cassian said to him but it melted away Tamlins arrogance until only fear was left in his burning eyes.Then Tamlin took a step back and pushed into the bar. Cassian strode over to me “Get on the bike.”
I looked at him in shock and stared at the machine, examining on how to mount this monster, the helmet falling forward and hiding my view, almost tumbling off. I had no idea how to get onto it. I let out a desperate sigh as the blood pulsed in my ears.
“Here, let me help you.” He lightly turned me towards him by nudging my shoulders and zipped up the last inches of the jacket before he used two fingers to tilt up my chin. My eyes darted from his hazel ones to the entryway of the bar, in angst that Tamlin would stride out and try to get back at me. “He’s not going to hurt you.” Cassian said in a calm voice.
“What did you say to him?” I asked as he fastened the clasp and wiggled the too big helmet, testing how much it would slide over my head.
“I made it clear that you want nothing to do with him. He’ll leave you alone and never text you again.”
My heart skipped a beat. No man before has ever protected me like that. My eyes locked with his. The hazel pools held no trace of a lie. He meant what he said. Right now, he was a knight in shiny armor. Or rather, clad in black leather with a beast of a bike instead of the horse.
“Get on.” he ordered gently but caught my frown. “I’ve never sat on a motorbike before.” I admitted and earned a grumble from his chest that almost sounded like a chuckle. Without a warning he swooped me up and sat me on the shiny plastic behind his seat. “Alright, since there ain’t no pegs, you’ll have to tuck your feet up and rest them on the sides of my boots. Keep your knees tight against me, like you're trying to hold on with your legs—that’ll help you stay stable when we take turns or hit bumps. You need to hold on really tight while we drive, so you don’t fall off.” He elegantly swung his leg over the bike and let the motor howl as he took my hands and wrapped them around his middle. “Lock your hands and don’t let go. When I slow down, you can put your hands on the tank for support.” He noticed that I really have no idea what he’s talking about. As he began again, there was no hint of annoyance. He uncurled my hands and placed them on the tank before his thighs. “Here.”
“When we’re going around corners, lean into the motion. Other ways we could fall.”
“Okay”
“Don’t hesitate to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. I’m going to drive very carefully. You don't have to be afraid.”
Cassian
The anger made me rigid. All my muscles tightened even more when I thought about Tamlin trying to get YN even without her consent. Why would she even go out with him? He was a red flag on legs. I felt like punching him and my fist yearned to collide with his jaw. But that situation wasn't about me. It was about getting her safe out of that situation. So I ended it with a threat “You’re disgusting.” I spat the words at him, “I’m telling you how this goes: You wont text her again. You won't call her again. If you see her in the streets, you won't look at her and turn the other way. I swear if you come near her one more time, I’ll deal with you my way.”
After he was inside, I turned on my heels and strode back to her. Wrath roared in my veins. But as soon as I looked into her eyes the anger was gone and replaced by that deep instinct to protect her.
As we drove through the city, the cold wind pushed against me but the wrath over that prick only rose my heartbeat and heated my skin. I hoped that the jacket she wore deterred the wind so she wouldn't freeze. But there was enough fever evading from my skin to keep her warm, I was sure about that. I took it slow and eased around each turn. I waived the splitting like I would normally do, but I wouldn't risk that with her on the bike with me.
I was so absorbed by my thoughts that I missed to dodge the bump and rode straight over it. A surprised yelp from her rang in my ears and she moved closer to me and tightened her hold around my waist. That little whimper of her let the butterflies in my stomach fuse into metal ones that raged through me. “Sorry sweetheart, you okay?” I asked, petting her hand shortly. “Yes I’m good.” she said and nuzzled into my back.
When I stopped at a red light she put one hand around my shoulder and said “You’re a really good driver.”
“You feel safe?”
“Yeah.”
We drove along the straight street when fast food chains were stripped together. “You hungry, sweetheart?” I asked her, nodding my head towards the side of the street.
“Not really.” she answered. But it wasn't even six when she and her douche-date came to the bar. She couldn't possibly have eaten before. She must be starving. The shot’s she did under his command couldn't fill her belly. I made a u-turn and pulled on the parking lot of McMoons, killing off the engine. I pulled her down and freed her from the helmet before we got to the counter.
“You sure you not hungry?” he asked but she shook her head no. Even if she still wore my heavy jacket I could hear the grumble of her stomach. I knew the look of someone starving and even her gorgeous eyes couldn't hide it. I placed the order “You go and choose a table, I’ll be right with you.”
She nodded and got over to the table under the window while I waited for the food to be prepared. I collected the overflowing tablet and slid in the seat across from her. Her doe eyes rounded. “You have a healthy appetite.” she mused at the sheer amount that laid between us. Burgers were piled up, boxes with fries, sauces and sandwiches cluttered the tablet.
“And I don’t like to eat alone.” I said it as a fact as I placed a carton before her, “And I could also tell that you like nuggets.” and slid a sauce of every sort over to her and one of the cokes I got us.
Astonishment ran over her face, her eyes dipped from the food to me and back before a small smile tugged at her lips. Mission accomplished. I also grinned as I dug into my burger, happy that I could do something nice for her.
“So, do you like Velaris? Sorry that I had not asked you before at Elain's party.”
“It's fine. I like it a lot, even better than I imagined. The city is gigantic. I love to watch the skyline with all the blinking lights. But I can't really see that from my apartment. A pity considering the price of the cornflake box I live in.” I chuckled at her remark. I liked her sass.
“But it's not only the skyline that brought you here, am I wrong?”
“I finally found a job here. A cute library slash bookshop working area at the Rainbow.”
“You must be really into books.” I stated with a gentle smile.
“Pretty much.” she smiled back at me.
“How come?” I cocked a brow.
“I studied Library Science and Old Languages at Illyria University. I spent my whole life in small towns or off the grid and wanted to live in the comfort of the city as soon as possible.”
“Off the grid?” My brows rose. “What do your parents do? Some kind of hunting?” I laughed.
“Yeah kind of.” she said nibbing at a fry. “My dad’s in the army and we had to move a lot around.”
I blew out a low whistle. “Army huh? Which branch?”
Her eyes wandered down to her nuggets as if they suddenly became far more interesting and mumbled. “The 55th.”
I almost got drowned by the drink that got stuck in the wrong pipe. I punched my chest as I coughed for my life “Your dad’s a sniper? No way.” They were a different kind of breed and enjoyed a high reputation.
“I’m in the army too. What's his name?”
“Alexander YLN.” she said nonchalantly and finished off her meal.
“He’s your dad?” my eyes grew wide and I pushed the fries closer to her.
“You know him?” she asked, nudging her head to the side, taking three fries and dipping them into the ketchup.
"No, I don't. But I’ve heard stories. He’s a legend. I’m in the army since I can think straight and grew up with the tales that roamed around. Fuck, I would probably never wash my hand again if I ever met him.”
“Wait a second. So you’re not afraid of my dad?”
“Well, no. I’d actually like to meet him some day, you know…talk about stuff.” I chuckled nervously.
“You really are something.” a smile of wonder began to melt into her face. “You’re the first guy that does not wet his pants when I bring him up, I'm impressed.”
I nodded and dimples formed on my cheeks as she smiled at me “I haven't actually met him yet. I didn't even know he had a family.” She didn't tell me about her mom, so I let it be.
“Apparently he has. “ she sipped from her coke and I had to will my stare away from her perfectly heart shaped lips around the straw. “So, you’re into bikes?”
“Pretty much.” I chuckled, mirroring her statement.
“In my job everyone tells me what to do and I feel like the only time I can be free is when I ride. Clears the head and calms my nerves. And I’m fast whenever I have to get around.”
She smiled and held my gaze as she nodded “I get that.”
The conversation flowed. She asked about my job before we talked about what she liked to do in her freetime. Apparently she likes to take walks to get to know some districts where she could rent a new apartment when she’s not reading. I offered to take her on a ride to show her around sometime. The pull she had on me was undeniable. Then I gave her some advice about good restaurants and to stay away from the Golden Duck. I knew no one who didn't catch food poisoning from that place but had no idea how they managed to still be open for business.
The empty containers and crunched wrappings laid all over the table. The ice in our drinks had long melted away as we heard the keys of the owner jingling who wanted to finally get us outside after we talked for more than an hour to close the store.
I pulled around the corner and entered her street. “Which number do you live in?” I asked turning my head sideways to her.
“162.” her small voice was muffled by the helmet. I stopped the bike to stand right in front of her house and cautiously got down. She still sat rooted to the bike, clearly not knowing how to get down. “Here, let me help you.” Again I let my hands drift around her delicate rib cage and pulled her down without effort, placing her feet on solid ground again. I let one hand around her middle, stabilizing her. I crouched down to pull the strap and free her from the helmet, her hair was a cute mess but she combed it out too fast to take an imaginary photo of her.
“Thank you.”
“Can I get you upstairs?” I gently asked her and she dipped her head as a smile crossed her pretty face. She dug in her purse for the keys and led me into the foyer. She came to a halt on a door of the second level and turned around to me, looking up with that sheepish smile that let my heart skip a beat. “Thank you again, Cassian. For everything, really. I owe you.”
“Please, it’s Cass. Don’t mention it.” I just could gaze into her stunning eyes.
“Good night.” she said and fumbled with her lock. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing Elain and Feyre on the other side of her apartment door almost yelling un union “YN! How was your-” Their eyes grew wide as they saw me standing behind her “-date?” they frowned and their eyes darted between me and her.
“What are you doing here Cass?” Feyre asked, totally puzzled.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” YN swore under her breath and stepped into the apartment. “Where is Tamlin?”
Now YN’s tone wore annoyance. “No more dates! This was awful! I swear if you ever try to talk to me on a blind date I’ll chop your head’s off. And I gave you my spare key only for emergencies, not for surprise parties.” her scolding turned into a small laughter towards the end. Feyre chucked at her threat. I couldn't hold back a wide grin.
She stood before me and glanced up. “I would invite you in but I have a strict no-boys-in-here rule.” I nodded with a smile before I turned to leave, hearing Elain plopping a bottle of champagne open.
“Well then, have a lovely evening ladies.” I called and took the first steps. The door was pushed shut with an echo, but even a second later YN pulled the door open again and rushed towards me, peeling out of my jacket she still wore.
“Wait.” she hollered after me and our fingers grazed as he handed me back the jacket. “Thank you, Cass. Good night.”
Half an hour later I found Rhys, Az and Lucien lounging in the seats of their favorite bar. I let myself slump down in one of the chairs, taking a large swing from my ale. “Hey man. How’d it go? Did you at least punch him in the face?” Lucien asked and the heads of my friends shot at me.
“What is he talking about?” Rhys asked.
“Nothin. It’s fine.” I clipped, happy to be drowned in the thought that she was home safe now.
They exchanged looks but Lucien answered for me. “YN was on a date with Tamlin...”
Az almost spilled his drink.
“...He was a total creep. She looked really uncomfortable, her whole body was shaking and saw a chance to get away. She asked Cass to take her home.”
“Fucking bastard,” Rhys swore under his breath, probably remembering when Feyre dated Tamlin and was a total prick. “What did he do to her?”
I exhaled “Nothing. He tried to run after her in the parking lot, yelling and insulting her, but I stopped him. I told him to fuck off and that I’ll rip his head clean from his shoulders when he ever lais one eye on her. He got the message. She looked devastated. I bought her some nuggets at McMoon and drove her home.” Period.
I wanted to end this conversation and get my mind towards something else. I heard the blood rush in my ears and the glass almost shattered under my grip. Every fiber of my body screamed to get up, find Tamlin and punch him right across the face.
“And?” Lucien asked, his head nudged to the side.
“And nothing. We said goodbye and I came here.”
“Yeah but did you?” a mischievous wink mixed with a grin beamed from Lucien as he made an obscene gesture.
Anger roared through me. As if that was the only thing I wanted from a girl. “Of course not! Asshole.”
Rhysand blew out a low whistle “Since when does the hunter Cassian let a cute little bunny escape?”
“Since she’s not a bunny and Elain's friend and new to the city. YN got harassed by a fucker and she needed my help. That’s it.” My friends were insufferable. Besides she has this no-boys rule so she would have never ever let me cross that threshold.
All three chuckled and Az said giggling “You like her! She totally stole your fucking heart, Cass - admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit. I was just being friendly.”
“Yeah, friendly my ass. Next time I see you you’ll have pegs on your bike and a second seat installed with her name written right across it in glittery letters. Our lone wolf finally gets his omega.” Rhys slapped my back three times and smirked at me.
“You’re all a pain in my ass.” I cursed at them, swinging back the last half of my beer.
YN
“What do you mean it wasn't a date?” Feyre half yelled, sitting cross legged on the sofa next to me. “He invited you for dinner, gave you his jacket and drove you home.”
I rolled my eyes, switching the champagne for a cup of tea. “It wasn't a date! First, he was just being friendly as he saved me from Tamlin- thank you for that by the way”, my tone went straight to annoyance as I addressed Elain. She could have mentioned earlier that her sister dated him once and that he was a psycho. “and secondly, he was hungry and didn't want to eat alone. The wind on the bike was too freezy and I just wore jeans and that flimsy excuse of a shirt. And I had no idea where I was.”
Elain exchanged looks with her sister and yelled, throwing her hands up in a cheer. “It was a date!”
“It wasn't a date.” I rolled my eyes hoping then they would just drop it.
“She’s right, it wasn't a date...” I nodded as a silent thank you to Feyre.
“...Cassian doesn't do dates.” What? My eyes almost fell out of their sockets.
My brows furrowed as Feyre continued. “There were one or two women a couple of years back for some months but… He sees girls and goes home with them. He only has flings, really. That's why the rear of his bike has never had a seat!”
“What?” My jaw unlocked as I stared at her. He was a perfect gentleman this whole evening. No inappropriate touching or comments and he never once stared at my features with a hungry look in his eyes. Probably I wasnt his type.
“Yeah he never takes a girl home with him. He goes to work and to the gym. Sometimes he hangs around at Az and Elains or in their favorite bar but I’ve never seen him courting a woman. What did you guys even talk about when you were eating? His training routine and how tall he is?”
The gears turned in my head. That was probably how the conversations with the girls were when they wanted to get in his pants. “Uhm, no…We actually had a good talk. About my work and my flat. About some good restaurants. I asked about his job and his bike and how he knows Az and Rhysand.” they just stared at me bewildered but smiles creeped in their faces.
“You’re blushing, YN you know that? You like him!” Elaine sang with a wink of an eye.
“What?” my cheeks heated up and I hid my face behind my hands “That’s not true. We just had a nice conversation. That's it.”
“I can tell him he likes you too.” Feyre turned to her sister. “Have you seen how he gazed at YN when he stood in the hallway? He’s head over heels for you.” She pointed her finger at me and grinned like a bobcat.
I let out a low chuckle and shook my head “Why am I even talking to you!?”
summary; rhys and nyx are a family of two, but they're both pretty hell-bent on making it into a trio, with you.
word count; 12,151
notes; I have no idea how this got so long? I planned for it to be like 4-5k, and @azsazz can vouch for that. also big shout out to @acourtofwhatthefuck for proofreading this for me when I just had no motivation, but I needed this one to be perfect.
Fate had always seemed to have the worst timing for you.
Whether it be relationships, the sunny skies turned to rain, or simply this; balancing precariously on a stool and getting startled by your own phone, which you could have sworn was on silent mode.
Blaring out across the shop in a sudden burst of cheery notes and tones, you almost dropped the stacks of books in your hands, cursing a little as it vibrated in rhythm in the back pocket of your jeans. When the call persisted after the usual three rings signalling a cold caller or market salesperson, you sighed.
Shifting the books to one arm, you fished the phone out before it could go to voicemail, wondering just who would be calling you so urgently at this time of the day. The question didn’t linger for long, though, as your eyes widened at the caller across the front of the screen.
‘Velaris Young-Education Prepatory School’.
A ridiculously fancy name for an elementary school, you thought it every time you saw the name, and yet right now, your heart skipped a beat as you pressed answer. Bringing it to your ear as you shuffled the books in your arms more, you lowered yourself down from the ladder carefully.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hello! Is this Nyx’s mother, (Y/N)? It’s V-Y-E Prep.”
The woman on the phone sounded somewhere between relieved and panicked, and your heart leapt into your throat a little at her tone. “Well, yes, that’s me, but-”
“Oh, good, we weren’t able to get in touch with dad, I was worried I wouldn't be able to get a hold of either of you.” She cut you off before you had a chance to finish, your lips clamping shut as she let out a sigh of a laugh. “I’m Nyx’s class teacher, but he’s had a little bit of an accident today, do you think you’d be able to come and pick him up from the reception?”
Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest entirely. “An accident, what kind of accident, is he okay?”
“Oh, he’s fine! He had a fall during playtime, and he bumped his head. There’s a mark, and a scratch we’ve cleaned up, but he’s understandably a little shocked and upset. We know dad can get… concerned,”
Understatement of the century, you wanted to butt in, because Rhys was more than just concerned. He was overprotective, in an endearing way, but he tended to freak out over the smallest things. Then again, it didn’t help when teachers said things like ‘accident’ when it’s not so serious. Perhaps it was a good thing that they got you, not him.
“So, we thought we’d give you a ring, and see if you could pick him up?”
Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. You still had four hours left of your shift, and you felt terrible just ducking out, even if the store was dead, excluding the few people idling over lukewarm coffees in the connected café. “Sure, yeah, of course. I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Wonderful, we’ll see you then.”
The line clicked dead, your eyes sliding shut as you let out a slow breath. You could have just said no, that voice in your head taunted, he’s not your child to fret over. And yet, the thought of his sad face lingered in your mind, triggering all those maternal instincts inside of you and sending them into overdrive.
“Sounds urgent.” Somehow, despite walking with a cane and always wearing heeled boots that clicked on the floorboards, Margaret had managed to sneak up on you. When you turned, the seventy-something-year-old was standing with a smile on her face behind you, eyeing the phone in your hand.
“I’m sorry, Margie. It’s Nyx’s school.” You grimaced, lips pressing together into a thin line. She only laughed lightly, waving a frail hand idly in the air as if to bat the moment away.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I know what it’s like to have your child’s school call you up in the middle of the day.” Her smile only widened, her eyes glazing over a little. “Our Tommy was a terrible little troublemaker, I had constant calls about his behaviour. And our Jenny, well, she was the clumsiest kid you ever saw. Tripped over thin air.”
A wistful sigh escaped her, and your lips flicked up at the edges. You’d met both Thomas and Jennifer, lovely people, but just as she’d described. Jennifer seemed even more prone to bad timing than you, and Thomas had turned all that troublesome energy into bad flirting and a heated temper.
“You do what you have to for your kids.” She’d finished her recollections, her voice snapping you from your own, and you could only nod.
“I know, but he’s not my kid. Not biologically, or in any way that matters. It’s not the same, and-”
“Hon, if I’ve ever seen a mother, it’s you to that little boy.” Her words made a lump in your throat that was impossible to speak around, a quick flash of emotion swelling up that you were quick to fight against, but the sparkle in her eyes told you she’d seen in. “He may not have your genes, but he’s yours. So, go get your son. The store will still be here when you come back on Monday.”
“Are you sure-”
“Don’t make me force you out of this door.” She tapped her cane at your feet, just close enough that you could feel the floorboards vibrate under the harsh taps, a wordless threat, and a grin broke out on your lips to hide the blush on your cheeks.
“Alright, I’ll see you Monday, then.”
She gave a curt nod, and you were flying through the store. Grabbing your bag and coat from the backroom on the way, you were out of the back door and at your car in less than a full minute. Only when you’d put your bags onto the seat and checked the car seat permanently attached to the back of the car did you get into your own seat.
How you’d gotten to this point, you had no idea. It hadn't been your intention four years ago when you’d first met baby Nyx, to end up with a box of his things in your trunk for emergencies, a child seat of your own in the back of the car and your name registered as a parental contact. Yet, as you stared, twisting to look at it and brushing your fingers over the fabric, you didn’t have a single regret about it.
In fact, only a smile pulled at your lips as you thought about him. Him, and his father. Rhysand had been your best friend for many years, and his baby only seemed to bring you closer. You’d never have wished Nyx’s mother to have abandoned him, you loathed the woman every day for what she did to them both, but it had created a space in their lives that you’d somehow patched a part of up.
When Rhys had needed support and guidance, you’d been there.
Now, you’d be there for Nyx, too.
As you started the car, flicking a glance back to check the mirrors on the seat were still aligned, Margie’s words flickered through your mind.
If I’ve ever seen a mother, it’s you to that little boy.
They lingered on your mind for the entire drive, hanging over you like a cloud on an April day, unsure if it was going to rain, or simply pass by. Until you were parked outside of the school, hands still clenched tightly on the steering wheel as you stared up at the tall glass entryway only a few paces away. You couldn't see Nyx yet, not with the doors on the other side that truly sealed off the building, but you could make out figures and shapes on the other side.
Your eyes moved to the clock, the digit clicking over another number, and your fingers felt numb when you finally released them from the wheel. With another sigh, you released all thoughts about mothers and genes and Rhys.
One day, perhaps, you’d confront them. Today wasn’t going to be it.
Stepping out of the car and swinging the door shut behind you, you didn’t even bother to lock it, as you took a slow jog up the main pathway before the school. The doors hissed open automatically before you, the smell of fresh cotton coming from the air freshener in the corner of the office, and the receptionist behind the desk looked borderline bored as she glanced up.
“Hi, um- Hi. I’m here for Nyx.”
Her eyes widened a little, looking significantly more interested now as she took your name, and called through to the classroom. The thought almost amused you, had you not been so concerned. Rhys had quite the reputation around here, the big checks and hefty donations gained him and Nyx quite the special treatment, one that clearly seemed to pass onto you, too.
The doors to the school buzzed open a second later as the magnetic locks released, and you stepped through. Sitting in one of the large plush chairs lined up along the wall of the office was Nyx, looking utterly swamped as his feet swung in the air, head bowed and hands clutching tightly to his backpack in his lap.
At the scuffing of your shoes, his head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful, turning to relieved as he saw you. He dropped his bag to the floor, moving to slide out of the chair but you were faster, dropping down to kneel before him. Up close, you could see more, enough to break your heart.
His eyes were red, cheeks pink, tear-marks tracked into the smears of playground dirt and classroom muck on his face. When you brushed the edge of his inky hair back from his forehead, it was to reveal a cut across his forehead to his temple, bumped and bruised, growing into a lump on his head. His bottom lip wobbled, eyes growing shiny again.
“Oh, Nyxie, did you get hurt?”
“Yeah…” His voice trembled as he spoke, sniffling lightly and wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. Patting his hair down once again, you tried to choke back the emotions clogging in your throat as a tall shadow fell across the both of you. With a glance, you confirmed that it was his teacher, looking more than a little nervous as she watched you take in Nyx for yourself.
“We just have some forms for you to sign, and I can tell you a little more about his injury, and then you’re good to go.” At your nod, she let out a heavy breath, wiping her hands down subtly on her skirt.
“Nyxie, I’m just going to go sign some forms for you, okay? Do you want to wait here?” He shook his head, eyes widening a bit as his little hand clamped down onto your arm, gripping tightly and shuffling across the seat closer to you. “You want to come with us?”
“Can I have cuddles?” His voice was low and shy, your heart swelling a little more.
“C’mere.” Opening your arms up for him, his damp cheek fell to your shoulder, nose tucking sweetly into your neck, and you scooped him up, his legs dangling on either side of your body as he slumped against your chest happily. Standing up with a little more effort than usual, Nyx’s hands patted idly over your knitted jumper, body bouncing with each step you took to follow her inside of the office.
The forms were already laid out, four to be signed, and she pushed the first one over to you. “This one is just to state you acknowledge the injury, the second is a copy for you, because dad requested always having a copy of forms.” Her cheeks flushed with a little colour, the edges of your lips flicking up at Rhys’ quirks. “The third is just an injury form, that you know we’ve given you all the information, and you’re satisfied. The fourth, another copy.”
You quickly signed your name on the first two, pushing one over to her and keeping the other on your side. The pen hovered over the paper of the third, your fingers clenching a little on it, eyes flicking over the page. “What did happen, exactly?”
“Well, uhm…” You rubbed a hand over Nyx’s back, a soft affirmation that you appreciated how patiently he was waiting. Putting on a smile, you tried to put the woman at ease, not having meant to sound quite so… pissed.
“I know kids have accidents, I didn’t mean to sound so… well, let’s just say, be glad I’m the one that picked up the call. Dad can be overprotective.” The boy in your arms giggled a little, and you placed down the pen, using your hand to now cup his head and rub at his hair lightly.
“He was playing on the climbing equipment. I think he went a little too high, because he couldn't climb down. Another child was trying to help him, but before anyone could get over to him once we realised he was stuck, he fell off.” Her voice was a lot more confident now, and you were glad you’d been able to ease just a little of that tension. “I can take you out to the equipment and show you what happened, if you’d like?”
“That won’t be necessary.” You grabbed for the pen again, signing both pages, and she pulled one over towards her files as you gathered the other two.
“Nyx was so brave, weren’t you, huh?” She swiped a finger over his cheek as she passed by to get the door for you again, and he nodded slowly against your body. “And he was so excited when he found out his mommy was coming to get him.”
There was that word again, all of those thoughts coming swarming back in a dizzying rush as you followed her. A hot blush settled on your cheeks, your mouth opening to correct her, before Nyx’s hands were bunching in your jumper as he let out another little giggle, making your lips snap closed again. He hid his face deeper in your shoulder.
Stooping down to pick up his bags, his teacher placed it over your arm, swinging as you gripped paperwork in one hand and Nyx in the other. “I put all of his schoolwork in his bag. We’ll see you again tomorrow, Nyx!”
She held the door open for you, waving her goodbye as she watched you go, the receptionist looking far more alert now than she had earlier, smiling widely as the two of you left, and you could feel their gazes on you all the way to the parking lot.
Putting down the paperwork and his bag on the top of the car, you opened it up, leaning in to settle him was like muscle memory now. No longer an awkward act but a practised one, as he slid from your arms and into the chair. Fastening the belt across his middle, you did the ones over his shoulders.
Eyes that were the same incredible shade of near-violet as his father’s were watching you, a ridiculously adorable smile on his face as you leaned in to press a kiss to the uninjured side of his forehead. Tucking his bags on the other side of him, you checked all his straps, not realising you were frowning yourself until his little fingers pinched at your nose.
“Got a nose!” He whispered excitedly, waving his fingers in a way that was supposed to mock his uncle’s, the way Cassian would always tease that he’d ‘stolen Nyx’s nose’ to cheer him up. When you smiled at him, he pushed his hand back against your face, giggling to himself as he continued to imitate his uncle. “You can have it back!”
“Well, thank goodness for that!” You teased, rubbing over the bridge of your nose and taking him in. Once you were happy with his safety, you closed the door, taking only the paperwork with you and folding them in half, tucking them into the glovebox of the car for safekeeping. When the car turned on, your fingers went to the radio, and a single button pressed had some of Nyx’s favourite songs pouring from the speakers as the kiddie-CD in the player came to life. “We’ll go and see your daddy now, hopefully, he won’t be too upset about your head.”
The boy only hummed to his song, leaning to stare out of the window, breath fogging it up and one hand resting on the windows he watched his school be left behind. “Daddy will be angry with us?”
For all the fresh set of worries now swirling inside of your head at Rhys’ reaction, you’d never considered how Nyx would interpret your words. “Oh, no, of course not, baby. Never us. We make daddy smile, not frown!”
Reaching behind yourself as you came to a stop at the red lights, you squeezed at his knee lightly, retracting it only when the light went yellow. Another few minutes of quiet went past, the roads clear for the middle of the day as you drove, and Nyx was happily taking in all of the Velaris scenery as you passed by.
From the small town outskirts and into the city centre, it was when you were almost there that Nyx stopped singing and decided to speak again.
“I heard daddy tell Uncle Azzy on the phone that you make him smile like nobody else ever has.”
Your eyes widened, your foot nearly slamming onto the brake a little too hard as you turned a corner, and Nyx went back to singing his song. Your heart was picking up speed in your chest, the traitorous organ fuelled on hope reacting in a way you tried to resist. Your head was empty, it took a full minute to form your response, and you gave out a croaky laugh. “Were you being cheeky and listening to your dad’s private phone calls again?”
“No!” His voice sounded indignant, but with a look cast in the mirror onto him, you could see the cheeky smirk on his face. “He answered it at dinnertime! I got to say hi to Uncle Azzy. He’s in a whole different country right now, did you know that?”
You could only smile at the excitement in his voice as he spoke all about Azriel’s current escapades in Spain, or at least, the version that was completely safe and child-friendly. Soon, though, his distraction was over, and he was circling back to a topic you had hoped he’d forgotten.
“Daddy loves you. He told Uncle Azzy. And Uncle Cass, and Auntie Mor.”
“Well, now I know you’re telling me fibs.” Releasing your hand from the gearstick at the next red light, you reached it behind you, tickling at his tummy until he laughed loudly and kicked his legs, slapping at your hands weakly as he wriggled in his chair. “He would never tell Uncle Cass about his feelings, because Uncle Cass would tease him!”
“I’m not telling fibs, I’m not!” He gasped the words between breaths, face growing red, and you almost forgot you were sitting at the lights until a car honked behind you, forcing you to pull away. His laughter died down as the car started again, but he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He did tell him. He said that he loves you, and he thinks that you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”
Your lips pursed, your heart betraying you once again, stomach joining as butterflies erupted until you felt lightheaded, and the weight of his stare on the back of your head was obvious without you even needing to turn.
In a far less sure voice now, “Do you love daddy?”
You had no idea how to answer that question. You’d known he’d get curious about your friendship with his father soon, you’d just been foolish and selfish enough to hope it was his father that he asked, and so you wouldn't have to handle it.
Of course you loved Rhysand, but that didn’t make it easy to explain.
Rhys could never know, the wound of Feyre running away with Tamlin and abandoning Nyx was sure to still be raw, Rhys hadn't been on a date in four years, and if this conversation had confirmed anything, it was that Nyx wasn’t the best secret-keeper.
Your words had to be chosen carefully.
“Your daddy is my best friend, so, yes. I do love him.” You thought you’d done well, until Nyx made a non-committal sound, another question all ready to go.
“Does he make you smile?”
“Yes.” Your teeth gritted, the looming office building of the company HQ filling the sky as you pulled up to the security box, not even needing to roll the window down before the gates were buzzing open for you.
“And, do you think he’s the prettiest man in the whole wide world?” His arms flew as wide as they could, and you ignored how endearing it was, choosing a parking spot instead and focusing on your alignment.
“He’s very pretty, Nyx. Just like you.”
“Then why can’t you be my mommy?” That question felt like a punch to the gut, the car shutting off, silence filling the cabin around you as the engine stopped and the singing CD paused. He was waiting, playing with his fingers and staring at you when you turned to face him. His eyes were wide, confused, and you hated that he felt that way.
“Let’s clean up your face, huh? You’re all dirty.” The words were pathetic, you hated yourself, because avoiding his question meant avoiding your own. You were taking the coward's way out, pulling two wipes from the packet in the dash to wipe at his face. He stayed silent, lips pursed in an unhappy pout, but he didn’t push it. The next time he spoke, it was as you were unclipping him from his car seat and lifting him towards the ground.
“No, no, no.” He clung to you more, jutting out his lip and putting on puppy eyes he knew worked every time. “More cuddles?”
If it kept him effectively distracted, that was more than enough. Settling him in your arms and locking the car this time, the two of you set off towards the building, Nyx babbling in your ear about everything he could see around him so far.
Upon entering the lobby, his chatter cut off, head lifting from your shoulder to wave excitedly at the assistant behind the main desk. Long ago, you’d felt insecure stepping into this building in nothing but your jeans and a hoodie as everyone else wore dresses and suits and polished heels. Now, even as the elegant woman stood in her pencil skirt to lean over the counter to greet him, you felt at home. “Hi, Ana!”
“What are you doing here in the middle of the day, little mister?”
He only laughed, leaning out proudly to wave at her, and a new receptionist you didn’t recognise. “We’re here to see Daddy!”
She offered a knowing smile when you pushed his hair back just enough to show off the growing bruise, and turning to the intern beside her. “Take them up to the boss, and let him know.”
With a shaky smile and a polite introduction, she led your group over to one of the elevators, Nyx pulling faces and giggling over your shoulder at Ana the whole time. The ride up to the top floor consisted of Nyx counting the numbers off loudly, tickling them off on his fingers until he couldn't count anymore, and the doors chimed open at level twenty-six.
Guiding the both of you toward the boardrooms, you stopped outside of Rhys’ preferred meeting room, the one with ‘the good coffeepot’ he claimed, a smile flickering on your lips as you spotted his silhouette through the frosted glass while she knocked at the door.
As she entered, you could hear his voice pouring out, the back end of a speech on this year's profit margins that he’d practised on you a hundred times before today, only going quiet as all attention fell to her. “Sir, your wife and son are here.”
Your brows rose at her wording, still sitting high on your forehead as Rhys appeared, closing the door behind him and dismissing her thankfully. Left alone, his gaze flickered over you both, an emotion you still didn’t understand settling on his face when Nyx sat up in your arms, still cuddled against you.
“Hi, daddy! I got a bump on my head, look!” Pushing his hand over his hair, he moved his fringe out of the way, Rhysand’s eyes going comically wide as he stepped closer to get a look at it. “I fell off the climbing frame!”
His frantic gaze swept to you as he ran a thumb over his son’s forehead, the other hand settling on your hip subconsciously, but all your attention seemed to fix on the way his thumb swept over your waist in a matching way.
“I took care of it all, don’t worry.” You mustered the best smile you could, getting a whiff of his expensive work cologne when he dipped down to press a kiss to the same spot you had when tucking Nyx into the car. He examined the cut a little more, frowning at the mark on his son’s face, and you wanted to say something, to reassure him, to quash the thoughts about being a bad father that you knew were flying through his head. Before you could speak, though, he was acting once again.
He nodded, seeming to have already fought the war inside his own mind, and if the way his shoulder’s slumped from their tightened position, he’d won this one. Leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead too, your breath caught in your throat at the intimate brush of his lips over your skin. Rhysand had always been affectionate, this part of your friendship was nothing new, but somehow, it had become so much more than a flirty comment or wink. Your eyes fluttered shut, pressing selfishly into that hint of affection as it dragged on just a second too long, warmth coating your cheeks when he pulled back.
“Give me five minutes to finish this meeting up, wait in my office.” His attention moved to his son. “You can get one toy out, just one.”
At the mention of the toy-box tucked away in the back corner of the office, Nyx’s face lit up, hands clapping together excitedly, and Rhys chuckled at him. “Do you need anything?”
“We’ll be fine.” You’d been to his office more times than you could count, knowing the building like the back of your hand. “Go finish up, gods know you didn’t make me suffer through your rehearsals a thousand times just to mess it all up now.”
He only smirked, adjusting his blazer and ruffling his son’s hair, cautious of his injury. “I’ll be with you soon, darling.” Before you could respond, he was placing a quick kiss on your cheek, and backing away and returning to work, the door closing behind him.
When you stared at his empty space a little too long, Nyx let out an impatient sigh. “I want to play with the racing cars, darling.”
“Hey, now, cheeky! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were feeling absolutely fine, and perhaps I should take you back to school!”
Nyx burst out into more laughter, shaking his head and clinging to you. Even if his movements did make it harder to carry him, you didn’t care, grinning at the enthusiasm and excitement on his face. As soon as you had the office door open, he was squirming in your arms to get down, racing over to the box in the corner the second his feet were touching the floor.
Tearing off the lid, you flicked the light on, shutting the door and frowning as he began to pile toys up all along the floor. “Nyx, your dad just told you only one toy. Pick one, put the rest back.”
“But the cars all count as one, I have to get the whole set out!”
“Nope. You know that’s not how it works.” He scowled, but remained silent, making a point of pulling out the black truck with flames on the wheels, the one you hated, because it made terrible sound effects of grating engines and monster trucks. Piling the rest of the toys back inside haphazardly, the lid remained off the box, and he switched the volume up, glancing at you as he did. You only granted him a sigh, collapsing down into the plush leather chair of Rhysand’s desk.
Five minutes of watching Nyx push the truck around the floor and over every surface as he made car sounds himself soon slipped into ten. He changed toys to a small fluffy dog, and at fifteen minutes, an action figure. Just as he was setting up for his meeting with the plastic army man, Rhys appeared at the door, tugging his tie loose and smiling when you straightened in his chair.
Tucking the tie down into his suit pocket, he circled the desk, eyeing Nyx on the floor, who didn’t even bother to look up from his life-or-death mission. Taking a seat in one of the cushioned meeting chairs on the other side of the desk, he turned a questioning gaze to you, raising an eyebrow.
“He climbed too high on the climbing frame at school, and slipped when another kid tried to help him down. He got all checked out by the school first aid, he’s totally fine. No dizziness or headaches or nausea, nothing wrong. Just a bruise and a bump.” It didn’t stop Rhys from worrying, rolling his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze moved back to his joyfully-distracted son. “Rhys.”
He didn’t look up, biting down on that lip harder. With one hand, he popped free the button on his collar, and the one below, taking a deep breath.
“Rhysand.” With a firmer tone, you managed to gain his attention, a reluctant stare shifting to you, and you held your hands out across the desk, palms up. Wiggling your fingers, he placed one hand in both of yours, sighing sadly at the look on your face as you squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Nyx is fine, I made sure of it. I checked him out myself, signed the forms after reading them, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Look at him. He’s perfectly okay.”
“I’m sorry you had to leave work.” He whispered, ashamed gaze trailing to your joined hands, the edges of his lips barely flickering as you smoothed your thumbs over his knuckles. He squeezed a little harder, tugging a little closer, ensuring you weren’t letting go just yet. You’d had no intention to, anyway.
Tugging on your hands a little more, he guided you around the desk, back to your feet until you were standing before him, between his knees, and he could tip forwards to brace his head against your ribs. He still held tight to one of your hands, running his fingers over your skin now, but you managed to fight one hand free. With it, you patted his hair softly, smoothing over it until he let out a shaky but light breath.
“Thank you.”
“You know I’d do anything for you two. Absolutely anything, you have nothing to thank me for, or say sorry for.” He only nodded, tipping his head up enough that the tip of his nose dragged over your skin, until his chin was propped there instead, glancing up at you.
“Not true, I’m thankful for you every single day.”
You willed your body not to react, not to give you away, other than the small smile you offered him, settling with your hand on the nape of his neck for a second. It was intimate, romantic, far too much for friendship, and the sudden flash of thought made your spine stiffen, and your hand retract down to sit safely on his shoulder instead. “Rhys?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Why does Nyx’s school have me listed as his mother?”
He blinked, once. “What?”
“When they called, they asked me if I was his mom, and I never got a chance to correct her before she was telling me everything. Then when I got there, she said it again.”
He was silent for a moment, before sitting up once again, disentangling himself from you and putting on an easy-going smile to match his shrug as he slumped back into the seat. “I have no idea. Maybe she just got confused, or forgot.”
“Okay…” You gave only a moment's pause, leaning yourself on the edge of the desk beside you, and crossing your arms. “Well, why does your receptionist think I’m your wife?”
“She’s new.” The words rolled off of his tongue so fast it was like he’d planned them, your brows shooting up a little. “I mean, you come in here carrying Nyx, and what else would she know?”
Despite his casual demeanour, a soft layer of pink tinged those tan cheeks, so faint you’d hardly notice it if you weren’t so good at reading him. His eyes studied you for a second, a deep look as he stared, gaze taking you in just as much as you seemed to take him in. There was a lull, a pause, like so many moments lately where the air seemed positively charged between you both, lingering on an adrenaline-filled precipice and just waiting for something to happen.
Rhys broke it, just a second before it would have become too much for you, too. Clearing his throat, he caught Nyx’s attention. “Why don’t we go and get some ice-cream, buddy? Put the toy away and we can go right now.”
“Before dinner?” The child’s eyes widened, throwing the army man into the box without a care for the way he slammed off of the wall, all love gone now at the mention of ice-cream. Clicking the lid back into place, you watched them interact in a daze, the joking and chatter becoming background noise.
You’d never given yourself a chance to think before, too scared to get your heart broken and to lose them both, but a small flame of hope in the back of your heart had been steadily growing bigger and brighter, and it was starting to become hard to ignore.
Only when a small hand slipped into yours did you snap out of it, Nyx swinging happily with one hand in yours and the other in his father’s, telling him all about the school work he’d done as Rhysand grabbed for his briefcase and coat. Once he’d acquired them, you were on the move, trailing through the building in much the same way, swinging Nyx between your bodies and letting him bounce excitedly at the prospect of frozen sugar before a healthy meal.
As you wandered through the lobby, you took stock of yourselves, noting just how much the three of you really did resemble a family. The receptionist would be right to assume, simply from what it looked like. And, even if the teacher did know you hadn't been, from the number of mornings you’d dropped Nyx at school or picked him up at the end of the day, it could easily be misread as merely a development in a complicated relationship.
Perhaps, it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, and Rhys was right.
The butterflies in your stomach died down to a heavy weight. One of both relief, and disappointment you refused to acknowledge, the hot flush of anxiety cooling into a steady calm, and you were finally able to take a deep breath once again as you reached the car.
“We just need to grab his bag and forms from my car, and-”
“You’re not coming for ice-cream?” Rhys’ head snapped up from where he’d been looking down at his son, brows furrowing at you, and Nyx fell silent, turning to stare up with an identical look of confusion.
“You don’t like ice-cream?” He echoed in his father’s tone, the two were far too alike for your good, and Nyx was nothing if not a clone of his father. One silver lining had always been that Nyx seemed to be 99% Rhys, only getting 1% from his mother. It was the smattering of freckles over his nose that only came out in the summer.
“Of course, I like ice-cream.” You tapped at the tip of Nyx’s nose and he beamed.
“So, you’re gonna’ come with us, then?” Your gaze moved from him, to Rhys, whose brows only furrowed further.
“What’re you lookin’ at me for? You know you’ve always got a place with us. Frankly, if you decided to move in tomorrow, I wouldn't bat an eye.”
Your eyes rolled, and when you were looking back at him, he was grinning. “What about my car?”
“I’ll drive you back here to get it.”
“What about work?” You motioned to the building behind you, and he opened his car door, motioning for Nyx to hop up into the back.
“I own the company, I can take off an afternoon to be with the people I care about.”
“What about-” He leaned in close enough that your noses almost brushed, a smirk forming on his lips at the hitch in your breath, cutting off your words.
“Shut up, get in the car, and let me take my family for ice-cream.”
You couldn’t breathe, never mind form a response, that word ricocheting through the inside of your skull like a bullet. Nudging you to the side, Rhys opened the passenger door, motioning you too, until you were sinking into the spacious car and letting him close the door behind you.
By the time he’d strapped in his son and gotten into the car himself, you’d regained your calm and your ability to speak. “You’re bossy.”
“I’m the boss.”
“Not in this car, you’re not.” You muttered under your breath, his chuckle only dulled by the purr of the engine as the SUV roared to life. Setting the car into gear, he cast a cheeky look in your direction.
“Oh, I know. You’ve been calling the shots here since the day I met you, and I’m just fine with that.”
He settled a hand on your knee, innocently enough, after turning on kid’s songs to match your car to keep Nyx happy. He never flinched, never even glanced at his hand on you, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world. The scariest part, was that it felt exactly that way to you, too.
Nothing about it seemed wrong, or off, and the longer you stared at his hand, the more you wanted to take it. To lace your fingers together, set your hands in your lap after kissing his knuckles. Despite your attempts to push it down, it was seeming more and more like your ignorance of your situationship with Rhysand was making itself known.
It didn’t make sense. You were perfect together, in every other way, so why had he never made a move in this way? The spike of confused pain through your chest stung like a needle through the heart.
The drive to the ice-cream parlour didn’t give you much time to think, everything today was too fast, not enough time to think or clear your head. Before you knew it, you were pulled to a stop, Rhys climbing from the car to release his son who was practically tearing out of his car-seat to get to his favourite dessert store. He could have done with the run, the walk, anything to burn off some of that energy, but Rhys scooped him up into his arms, pressing several kisses to his son’s head, who only moaned and pushed at his father’s head.
He didn’t want kisses, he wanted sprinkles.
Too bad Rhys was beating himself up again about it all. Freeing yourself from the car to alleviate his worries, you squeezed his arm as you stepped out, shooting him a look to tell him that Nyx was more than okay. “One bumped head does not make you the world’s worst dad. Kids have accidents all the time, but look how happy he is right now.”
He didn’t need to look, shuffling his son to his hip and reaching out for your hand instead as he nodded. Lifting it up, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before lacing your fingers together.
There was a bell tinkling over your head as Rhysand guided you into the cold store, looking for all the world, once again, like a real family, and you allowed yourself a few selfish seconds to eat it up. Finally, Nyx gained his freedom, darting over to the large glass display cabinet and plastering himself to the front of it as he took in all the flavours available today.
By the time the two of you had reached the front of the queue, he’d seemingly made up his mind, turning to stare at you both with a look on his face that could only mean trouble.
“You pick what you want, bud?”
Rhys’ cautious tone meant he’d picked it up too, his hand squeezing a little tighter around your own when you chuckled, cutting you a glare as Nyx rolled on the balls of his feet and nodded. “I want the chocolate fudge, two scoops,” He held up two small fingers, for emphasis. “With chocolate sauce and the little fudge-chunk sprinkles.”
The woman behind the counter only laughed, staring down at him adoringly as he placed his hands on his hips, expectantly. Rhys’ eyes widened, his head shaking a little. “How about vanilla, with strawberry sauce, and rainbow sprinkles?”
“Ew, yucky, no.” Nyx’s face crumpled, and Rhysand’s jaw dropped, glancing from his son to you, and back.
“It was your favourite last time.”
“But, this time my favourite is chocolate fudge with chocolate sauce and fudge chunks, Daddy!” Nyx stated it like it was obvious, and you tugged on your connected hands to bring an indignant Rhys’ attention to you.
“Oh, let him have his chocolate-fudge extravaganza, he bumped his head.” Rhys’ only scowled, muttering under his breath about being ‘ganged up on’, before nodding to the woman behind the till but indicating for only one scoop.
“You’re putting him to bed when he gets a sugar rush.” Was all Rhys could snipe back with, a smile forming on your lips against your control once again, letting him lead you over to the display stand as Nyx watched his ice-cream being constructed with rapt attention. Turning from the cabinet to you, he nudged his nose lightly against your temple, a feeling that had blood rushing to your cheeks and your head spinning at the intimacy. “The usual?”
“Yeah.” Your voice broke a little as you spoke the single syllable, and had you been capable of speaking properly at the time, you were sure you’d have been a little more embarrassed about it.
“One raspberry victoria-sponge chunk ice-cream with, two scoops, and one triple-scoop rocky road.” He added to the order, the woman only nodding, piling them up on top of the counter as Nyx tried to reach for his, sparkles in his eyes as he stared at his sickly-sweet monstrosity in awe.
Lifting it down for him, you stuck a wooden spoon into the cardboard cup holding it, a soft ‘thank you’ tumbling from his lips as he accepted it, cradling the pot patiently in his hands like it was a rare treasure. You remembered the same look being on Rhys’ face when he’d first held his son, the same tender and gentle astonishment, the shock in his eyes at something so special. You could only smile.
“Darling,” Rhys tugged on your arm, your head snapping up from Nyx to look at him, only to find both his eyes and the servers on you. You hummed, brows raising, and watching Rhys balancing two ice-cream cones in his hand. “I said, can you get my wallet? It’s in my jacket pocket, your side.”
“Oh! Right, sure.” Twisting to him, he smoothed his thumb over your hand in silent appreciation as you rooted around the inside of his pocket, fingers brushing across worn black leather, and pulling it free.
You were more than familiar with Rhys’ money and his cards, he often handed you a small fold of notes or one of his shiny cards whenever you took Nyx out or needed to buy something, refusing to ever let you pay, but you rarely held the whole wallet.
Flipping it open, your eyes scanned over the folds inside to search for the right card, but your gaze snagged on the fold of an image inside. Pinned lightly behind clear plastic, the image preserved perfectly, was a picture of you and Nyx. You remembered the moment clearly, you’d been out with the whole family, one of the rare moments that Azriel had been home at the same time Mor was back from travels and Cassian had a day off. Amren even freed the day up to sit in the park with you all, celebrating Nyx’s third birthday. Mor had been on her Polaroid camera hype, and you didn’t even know she’d snapped this picture.
Nyx’s hands were on your face, pushing your sunglasses on upside down after he’d finished playing with them. He was stood between your legs, the sundress you’d worn that day still had small stains from the muddy bottoms of his shoes, but the smile on his face that was caught in the picture was worth it. You rubbed a hand over the plastic protecting it, treasuring that day with all of your heart, and uncovering Rhys’ writing at the bottom as you did.
‘My loves’.
“Darling, the purple card. C’mon, the ice-cream is getting warm.” He nudged you again, Nyx staring pleadingly from the ground below as he clutched his treat, still waiting, and you slipped the purple card out with your thumb. Tapping it against the car reader and being sure to add a tip to compensate for your daydreaming, you slid the card back, sliding the wallet back into his pocket as the three of you found a table.
Just because you could no longer see the picture, didn’t mean it, and, more importantly, the caption, wasn’t seared into your mind. My loves. If he truly felt that way, why hadn't Rhysand ever made a move? It didn’t make sense, you’d been here since before Nyx had even been born, almost a decade of best-friendship and flirty comments that never became anything more, while secretly harbouring a picture of you in his wallet and holding your hand, kissing your forehead and smiling in a way that read as far more than just friends.
You’d barely even settled into the booth before Nyx was digging into his ice-cream, and your hand finally being freed and you were given your cone. Twisting it around and towards yourself, your eyes narrowed a little on the chunk missing from the side, somewhere where an obviously large piece of cake had been pulled out, and your glare turned to Rhys.
“You ate some of my ice-cream?”
“We always share, stop acting so surprised about it.” He grinned, taking a large scoop from his own, and you scowled at him.
“I hadn't even tried it yet, and you ate the best piece of cake!” He only smirked.
“Do you want to try my ice-cream?” Nyx offered, and you turned to look at him across the table. His hand was gripping the spoon like he was stirring in a cauldron, the contents inside had been churned up into a gloopy mess, and he held a spoonful of it out to you, chocolate and fudge-covered cheeks stretched in a smile.
“That’s okay, Nyxie, it’s all for you.” You passed your cone back to Rhys after unwrapping the napkin from around it. “Hold this, and don’t eat any more.”
He nodded dutifully, but eyed another piece of cake hidden within the ice-cream nonetheless, as he ate his own. There was a particularly large piece of dark chocolate with a marshmallow on the side of his own that he’d yet to notice, and you stored that away for revenge. Reaching across the table, you wiped at Nyx’s cheeks, unsure why you’d bothered since he was only going to end up in the same state again soon, but you did your best with the sticky mess anyway.
You gave up when he got ice-cream on your hand too, refusing to pause eating even when you tried to clean him up. Leaving the scrunched-up napkin on the table, his father only chuckled in your ear and handed you your cone back. Turning to him, you held out your other hand. Wiggling your fingers, his face pinched for a second, before he sighed, giving in. He pulled that same face every time, despite being right that you always shared, a victorious smile on your face.
You made a point of turning the cone, flashing the delicious chunk of chocolate and marshmallow to him, watching his jaw drop to stop you, but not fast enough. Clamping your mouth down around it, you pulled the chunk free, chocolate melting across your tongue as you let out a moan of appreciation.
His eyes flared, leaning in and snatching his cone back, but leaving his face close enough to your own that when you licked over your lips, you almost licked him too. “You’re so cruel to me.”
“Payback is a… well, you know the saying.” You smirked, ensuring not to swear in front of the child across the table from you both, and he only growled a little. His eyes flickered over your face, every spot his gaze touched made your skin burst out with heat, lingering for a moment on your mouth. He smirked, raising a hand, and brushing his thumb along the edge of your mouth as he pulled back a fraction.
“You missed a spot.” He breathed, thumb slipping to settle on your chin instead, and his eyes found yours once again. The air between you both crackled like it never had before, electricity sparking between you both again, but so much more intense. “I, uhm, I’ve been meaning to talk to you lately...”
“Yeah? Well, we never see each other, I can see how it’d be hard to find the time.” You teased, his softly sighed laugh brushing over your face as his gaze held yours. Smoothing his thumb along your jaw until he was cupping your face, it was only when a drop of ice-cream dripped from your cone and onto your finger, the cold sending a jolt through you that made you gasp and snap back.
Glancing down at it, you winced, licking away any more drops that looked like they may fall, and using Nyx’s napkin to wipe your fingers. When you turned back to Rhys he was facing the table again, eating his ice-cream and acting as though nothing had happened. The bubble was broken, whatever he was going to say he clearly wasn’t planning on anymore, and so you let it pass.
You ate your ice-creams together, conversation steadily flowing onto other topics, far safer ones, no doubt, and you did your best to clean up Nyx’s face once again. Smears of chocolate covered his cheeks, and you knew Rhys would have to scrub it off later before bed.
The ride back to the office was where you grew to regret convincing Rhysand to allow Nyx’s choice, his sugar rush beginning to kick in at full force. He screamed his songs at the top of his lungs, loud enough to make you both wince as you drove, bouncing chaotically in his seat and threatening to break right out like a miniature beast.
The hand, now sitting on your lower thigh rather than your knee, squeezed at a particularly loud shriek as he played with the window settings, up and down, up and down. “This is your fault.”
“I know!” You wailed, glancing back at Nyx, who was all but vibrating as he rocked side to side, giggling hysterically to himself. “I figured the sauce would be sugar-free, and fudge isn’t that much sugar, it’s like-”
“It’s half sugar!”
“What?” Your eyes widened a little, turning to look at Rhys with wide eyes, and he contained his laughter as he watched the road, trying to tune out the din from the backseat. “Regardless, I apologise for this.” There would be no calming him now.
Rhys rubbed his hand up and down your thigh softly. “I already told you, that's your problem. You think I’m going to let you go home and leave me with this?”
“I have some very important work to do-”
“Liar.” He called your bluff, and you scowled, turning your glare on his hand as it set warmth firing along all of your nerves.
When he finally pulled back into the parking lot, it was considerably emptier than it had been when you’d left, and he spun to park across two full spaces into place beside your car. He left the car with a happy sigh, closing the noise that his son was making inside the vehicle, and rolling his neck from side to side. Finally, he opened his son’s side, lifting the boy from his chair and setting him on the concrete, where he immediately began to jump up and down, holding onto his dad’s hand.
The pair accompanied you to your car, retrieving the school bags and taking them back to their own while you gathered the correct forms from the glovebox, meeting him by the back of the SUV that made your car look tiny in comparison. You pressed them into his hands, and he tucked them into the front pocket of Nyx’s bag, setting his son off to put the bags away, who remarkably, did as told.
“I know you said no thanks, but, thank you for today. I mean it, you were so wonderful. You’re always so wonderful, I couldn't do any of this without you.”
“Any time, Rhys. You know that.” He shrugged, hands tucking into the pockets of his smart pants, leaning against the side of the car only a foot away from you.
“I know, but that doesn’t make me any less lucky to have found you, and to get to keep you in my life.”
Small padding of feet came rushing back, bags no longer in sight but a picture clutched in his hands to be held up in the air as he came to a stop. It was decorated with pieces of glued-on dried pasta, glitter and sequins, and some splatters of paint. The most important part, though, was the drawing at the bottom.
You’d grown used to his style of drawing now, easily able to pick out what each scribble was supposed to be, or rather, who each scribble was supposed to be, and the attempt at writing underneath. It didn’t matter, though, because he was quick to enthusiastically point it all out.
“Look, look! It’s us! This is daddy, in purple. And this is you in blue, because it’s your favourite colour. And this is me! I’m wearing a crown.” His chest puffed up proudly, the broken piece of pasta on his head acting like a crown, and you traced the words written in matching colours under each figure.
Daddy. Nyx. Mommy.
Casting a look up, Rhys was staring at the paper, a horribly crushing mix of longing and pain in his eyes as he stared at it, throat bobbing in a swallow, before he was blinking it away. He’d always been good at playing another role, hiding his feelings when he needed to, but you’d caught him too many times.
All the pining and want, you’d always assumed it had been for Feyre, for the missing woman who had birthed his son, but when his eyes met yours, the façade cracking just a touch, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe it was for you. Whatever it was today, this last few months, it was something new. It was like those walls you’d built up were finally crumbling, he was fighting through his own, and he let out a shaky sigh.
He let Nyx lower the photo, occupied with admiring his artwork. He leaned down, lips finding your cheek and lingering there in a soft kiss. You hooked a finger under his chin, twisting his head up until your noses were brushing, his eyes snapping open wide before you, as your lips brushed lightly. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I was thinking about kissing you.” You whispered, your voice shaking as you second-guessed yourself, second-guessed it all. His hand found your hip, smoothing around to sit on your lower back and tugging you close enough that your chests pressed together, his forehead resting on yours.
He didn’t pull away, he didn’t stop you, he just gave you your chance to decide.
So, you did.
You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a delicate kiss that set your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and drew a soft noise from Rhys as he tightened his hold on you. After only a second of hesitation, he kissed you back, a push and pull with his lips that was as intoxicating as it was grounding. You felt like you were floating, tethered only to him as you gave into a desire you never thought you could have, his lips melding to yours in slow drags.
It felt like it went on forever, and you were certain that you could easily have stayed there, just like that, for the rest of your life.
When he let you breathe, when your mouths fell only an inch apart, you wanted to nudge closer to him once again, to seal yourself back to him, to sink into him wholly and entirely and never come apart again. If the tight grip he had on your hip was any indication, Rhysand felt the same way.
The fog cleared after a few moments, and he shifted back some more, eyes fluttering open once again, and this time, they were filled with questions. Swirling in the violet like a storm brewing at dusk, and you lifted a hand, running a finger over his cheek lightly, and smiling when his head tipped into your touch.
“I’m so telling Uncle Azzy that you kissed Daddy.”
You practically jumped out of your skin, having forgotten about the babbling little boy at your feet, who was now staring up at you both in nothing but shock and smugness, one hand planted on his hip as the picture that had sealed the deal hung limply from the other.
“Daddy and-” You scooped him up before he could even get started into that little riddle, the taunting making your cheeks warm, even if he was only four, and making your way back toward the car. Rhys shuffled along behind you in a silent daze, holding the door open for you and standing by as you tucked Nyx back into his car seat. He never gave up on his childlike-smirk.
“How about some dinner, huh? A little someone can have his favourite mac n’ cheese.”
“It's me! It’s me!” He cheered happily, and you took the opportunity while his arms were raised to strap the belt around his waist, sealing him back into the chair as his arms strapped through the other two. “I’m calling Uncle Azzy tonight. And Uncle Cassie.”
“You do that, Nyxie.” You bopped the end of his nose, switching on the small TV set that was attached to the headrest to face his way, and watching it load up. You could feel Rhys’ stare burning into you, like a fire crawling along your skin, impatient and needy and desperate for answers, making you grateful for this small distraction as you scrolled the shows on the tablet.
Like a warning, a warning not to make him wait much longer, Rhys settled one large hand over your hip, squeezing tightly and tugging you a fraction out of the car towards him, a shiver travelling down your spine. You hit play on the first show up.
Backing out of the car to close the door, you didn’t get far, Rhys didn’t move, only pulling your body back into his with the grip on your waist, slamming the door shut for you and leaving you pressed to him. In a quick spin, he had your back pressed to the cold metal of the car, out of sight of his son and closed in by your own, the cold metal making for a relieving contrast to the heat.
“Do it again.” There was a pleading note to his voice, his sights fixed entirely on your mouth now as he bit down on his lower lip, his forehead coming to rest on yours. “Kiss me again.”
You took your time, teasing him just a little, by running your hands up his arms, over his shoulders as he tensed, until you were holding his face. He sagged closer to you, like he couldn't even hold himself up anymore, pinning you between his body and the car. With a sweep of your thumbs over his cheeks, his eyes closed, noses brushing in sweet motions until he gave an aggravated breath at the waiting.
At long last, you gave in, closing the gap between you both once again. This time, he let out a soft moan when your mouths connected. He kissed like a man starved, like a man who had waited every moment of his life for this. It was like your first taste of air after being underwater, his mouth insistent and unrelenting, like he was memorising the way it felt to kiss you.
You gave him all you had, committing every part of him to memory too. Every sound he made, the way he panted against your lips before diving back in, teeth scraping your lower lip and sucking softly, before following it with a sharp nip. He ruined everyone else, no kiss you’d ever had compared to this and nothing else ever would.
When his tongue smoothed over your lower lip, you were forced to pull back, to try and think somewhat clearly, one of you had to, because if you let this go on anymore, you weren’t sure you could stop. His hand was already shifting, exploring, dragging his fingertips up your spine to tangle in your hair, and you lowered yours to his shoulders, pushing him back just enough to take a breath that didn’t taste like him.
He groaned, licking over his swollen lips to take away the taste of you, his eyes darker than before when they found you again, and you pressed your lips together to fight temptation. “You should… you should get our boy home.”
At that, he blinked, his gaze softening endlessly at the endearing claim, and his hand let your hair go to slip back to your back. Pulling you closer, he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, nodding against your temple as he left a kiss there too. When he pulled back, it was to simply stare. There was nothing hidden now, the kind of dumb-in-love look shining in his eyes that you couldn't miss. Had it always been there, and you’d just never seen it before, or had he just stopped hiding it?
“You okay, Rhysie?”
He melted into you at the nickname you rarely brought out, eyes shining as he continued to stare. “So, so very okay, darling.”
Silence lingered between you both, the same comfortable quiet it had been since day one. No matter what, no matter how anxious or nervous or rattling, Rhys always had a way of making you feel at ease. You felt so vulnerable, and yet so safe with him, voice coming out in a whisper to speak into the gap between you both, “Can I ask you a question, Rhys?”
“Are you going to ask me if we can have carbonara with chicken for dinner again?” He teased, putting your nerves even more at ease, or maybe it was for his own, by making a joke.
You indulged him, “It’s a classic for a reason, because it’s so good. Besides, who said I’m coming for dinner, anyway?”
“You think there’s any way I’m going to be able to let go of you now?” He mumbled, head dropping down to rest on your shoulder instead, and you chuckled, feeling his lips press a soft kiss to your shoulder through your jumper. “What did you really want to ask?”
That brought the nerves back in full force. “Why did nothing ever, y’know, happen between us?”
His head snapped up, eyes widening to look at you, but no words came from his parted lips.
“Don’t you ever think about it, Rhys? I mean, look at us. There’s so much that would work, and I guess-”
“Of course I think about it.” He breathed the words in a rush, and your jaw snapped shut as words finally began to pour out of him, unrestrained and uncontrolled. “I think about it all the time. Every minute of every day you’re on my mind.”
“Rhys…” He let out a slow breath, but there was no stopping him now. You’d uncorked the bottle, the contents unable to be stopped from spilling.
“Since the day I met you all those years ago, I knew that I would hold onto you for the rest of my life. I couldn't let you go. But, I was a stupid kid who just inherited a company, and I was terrified of that. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. You just dropped into my life and filled holes and cracks I didn’t know I had, you made me feel complete. I fell for you, so hard and so fast, and I was so godsdamned scared of that.” He looked away, unable to look at you any longer, and swallowing thickly.
“So, we became friends…”
“So, we became friends.” He repeated, sighing like he couldn't hold the weight of the world anymore. “I thought, selfishly, that I could hold onto you as my best friend, until I was ready for more. That it would be fine. I was too slow, though, and you started dating Lucien.”
Your mind flickered back, hardly remembering the man you’d been with for only a couple of months almost six years ago, flashes of red hair and tanned skin in your mind recalling it.
“He was good to you, and I hated that. I hated him, but I wanted you to be happy. But, I was so miserable. I was so sickeningly, maddeningly, obviously in love with you, and I had to do something before you noticed. So, I dated Feyre. It wasn’t… we moved too quickly, too fast. I threw myself into it and then she got pregnant. Nyx came along, and she abandoned him. I thought I’d lose you too. I was scared again, but you stayed. You helped with everything, you made it better.”
His voice started to crack, and so your arms raised, looping around his neck, pulling him in until his forehead was pressed to your own.
“I wasn’t scared when you were there. You taught me everything, you stayed for every step. I knew within days that you should have been Nyx’s mother, that being with you like this was all I’d ever want, I started to want everything cliché, a white picket fence and a little house of our own and a street where Nyx could learn to ride a bike with us. I mean, I picked out the house you liked best from the viewings even though it was gonna cost so fuckin’ much to renovate and repair and clean, but it was so worth it.” He laughed emptily, and you sniffed back tears.
“I had no idea.”
“I know, I never told you. I wanted you to see your dream house without the guilt.” He rubbed at his nose, and you kissed his cheeks, feeling him smile under your lips as you did, stopping the tears clinging to his lashes from falling. “But, you were still with Lucien, so I settled to take what I could get. If having you as my friend, helping me raise him like this, was all I could ever have, I’d take it. Then, you weren’t, and I thought maybe you’d be heartbroken about your break-up, or sad, and I wanted to give you time. I gave you too much time, I was a coward, I was nothing but a lonely man who already had a son. I couldn't offer you all the things you wanted anymore. I couldn't travel or go out and party or do anything. I’m always working or with my boy, and I didn’t want you to be forced to take that on.”
You were shocked, his candour had left you breathless, and he sniffled lightly, blinking away the tears he was unwilling to let drop. “We broke up because of you.”
“What?” He let himself look up, to you, of all the expectations he’d seemingly braced himself for, this obviously wasn’t it.
“Lucien and I. He- he said, understandably, that it felt strange to have a relationship with a woman who was practically a part of another family. It made him feel like some sort of home-wrecker. He didn’t say it, and he never would’ve, he was a good man, but it was a choice. You and Nyx, or him.” Giving the best smile you could despite the emotions overwhelming you, he matched it with a watery laugh. “I didn’t even have to think about it. That’s why I was never sad.”
“You chose us.”
“I’ll always choose you.” Your smiles were real this time, shared and intimate and frighteningly tender. “So, the real question, is whether you’re still sickeningly, maddeningly in love with me?”
“You forgot ‘obviously’. I can’t believe you don’t know it, I haven’t been subtle. I tell everyone you’re my wife, and let them believe you’re Nyx’s mom.” Your scoff only made him smirk, smacking at his shoulder lightly, pushing him away only to have him grip you tighter, tugging you closer to him.
“I knew those weren’t ‘little mistakes’, or miscommunications!” He only shrugged, dipping back in, every intention clear as he moved slowly.
“I intended to tell you today, and so many other times, but I was always so scared of losing you.” The confession hung between you both, the unspoken promises and words as he tried to give you a chance to leave, to back away, to call it too much, but you didn’t.
You let him kiss you, let him kiss you until your lungs burned for oxygen and your head was spinning, and it felt like hours had passed by as you learned one another’s mouths. You let him kiss you until you were sure he understood that you felt the same, that you always had.
“I still love you. I will always love you. You don’t just get over this kind of love.”
You could only grin at him, cheeks aching but you didn’t care, because you couldn't have contained your happiness even if you’d wanted to. “Good, because it would have been horrible if my feelings were unrequited.”
“Never.” A few more stolen kisses, mumbled promises between them. “So, you’ll follow us home for dinner?”
The leap in your chest at the word home was enough to make you breathless, the knowledge you now had that he’d chosen it just for you, in hopes you’d one day live with them. It was almost too much to bear. “Only if you’re making carbonara. And garlic bread.”
“I’ll make you anything you want if it means you’ll keep kissing me.” You hummed, pressing another peck to his lips before managing to disentangle yourself, despite his complaints and tight hold.
“I’ll see you soon, where we can continue this.”
“Don’t take too long, I’ll miss you too much.” He winked, looking messy and kiss-ruined as you stepped back to fully take him in. His shirt was rumpled, his blazer was a little askew, and his cheeks were flushed red, swollen lips to match.
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You’re a pretty popular singer/songwriter and you’re finally back home in Mystic Falls. You reunite with family and friends, piss off an ex, and meet some new interesting people.
Words: 8.6K
Author’s Note: The songs in this imagine are taken from Billie Eilish and Ariana Grande. I could never take credit for their masterpieces. Haha. Enjoy!
Summary: Chris Evans is going to direct his second film, he knows A-list Hollywood star Nickie Morrison would be perfect for the role. When he calls her out of the blue to offer her the role, he’s surprised when she accepts but when they start filming, their onscreen relationship doesn’t stay just on the screen.
Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC Nickie Morrison
Word Count: 5.4k
Warning: 18+
Co-Creator: @ourfinest-hour
Previous l Writing Masterlist l Higher Love Masterlist
March 20th, 2021
“Nic! C’mon!” Chris cried above the sound of the band, his face bright red and once perfectly-styled hair now a complete mess.
“No way, I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me!” Nickie laughed as she looked at him, her husband, who’d long since abandoned his emerald velvet blazer at some point between saying “I do,” and now, a good three hours into what was, in Nickie’s unbiased opinion, the best damn reception.
His jaw dropped, staring at her in mock-annoyance. “That’s bullshit, you’re wearing sneakers!” He yelled, Nickie laughing as she watched his childlike excitement.
“Sorry I’m sitting this one out and with the way you’re dancing, I think it’s a good thing too,” she laughed, leaning up and pecking his cheek before he turned his head, catching her lips in a quick but not-too-chaste kiss as his arms wound around her waist.
“But it’s our song!”
“Since when is this our song? Last time I checked Billy Joel was your karaoke go-to,” she laughed, smiling as she caught Emily’s eye from a few feet away.
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Author’s Note: Welp, it’s here. I’m just as sad to see this series go as you guys. This has been one of the greatest joys to write and I want to thank all of you for loving it as much as I have. Your comments and messages have meant the world to me. My forever thanks is to @fillthevoid-stilinski for asking me to write this series for her. I never would’ve done this without your prompting, Em, and it has brought me endless happiness so thank you for being such a source of inspiration and motivation. I have a few more bonus chapters that will be listed on the masterlist for The Mistake, but this is the end. This is my version of “You got off the plane.” from Friends. Thank you all again.
Summary: Stiles and Y/n spend her twenty-seventh birthday in a place that holds a lot of meaning to them both. They then return a year later to make a commitment to each other.
Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Epilogue
You enjoyed the warm mid-May breeze blowing across your cheek, and what it meant: summer was coming again. You listened to the rustling of the new leaves above your head, shading you from direct contact with the warming sun, and you sighed happily. You laughed when you suddenly felt a rough and wet tongue wipe across your cheek. You brought your hands up to grab at the shaggy-haired dog, keeping him from drenching your face in spittle, then heard the jingling of keys getting closer. You opened your eyes and saw Cespedes standing right next to your head, panting and happy, then tilted your head back against the blanket underneath you, and saw Stiles jogging.
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A year later, the loss of Chadwick continues to hurt. His life and all his legacy will never be forgotten by us. A few words from Anthony about Chadwick's life. We'll never forget you, king.
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