#and I woke up with my jaw hurting from clenching my teeth :(

[prentissluvr]

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[r0-boat]

Oooo I just read your dark whb headcanons. can you please write a scenario where satan is going through a depressive episode and he accidentally hits and breaks the MC’s jaw? his and his nobles reactions? they have to go to paradise lost to get it fixed. all the angst please 🙏

I was waiting to do this one for a while because I wanted to be in the right headspace for some angst.

These demons are nice to you but my favorite part of this game is that demons act like demons.

Anyways enough chit chat let's get to it

Whb Satan blinded by rage hurts you.

Cw: mc gets attacked by Satan, Satan gives in to Rage, depression, not eating or drinking, Violence against Reader, blood

Red. That's all he saw. Consumed by so much wrath He didn't even remember what caused him to be like this in the first place. All he remembers was hands holding him back and screams.

When he 'woke up' you were on the floor behind Leraye the normal happy Demon had a serious look in his eyes his teeth clenched as he stood firm as if waiting for something to happen. Sitri's arms holding him back. Sitri finally let him go and Satan crawled towards you. "Mc....B-baby? Are-are you ok? His voice shaking filled with fear, and worry. His claws painted red at the tips. You weren't moving , the panic started to set in. That's when he saw it. Blood and a bruised cheek... That was saying it lightly, The devil stumbled backward. Red eyes filled with pain his hands was shaking as he looked at them. He did this to you. That Scream was you, The realization almost made him throw up.

Leraye didn't want to oppose his king but he didn't want him to hurt you. And he didn't want you to die. So he was the one that contacted Lucifer... Sitri with all his strength held the rampaging King back. Demons have to remember that humans are more fragile than devils. If He got hurt he could just get back up with only minor redding But if Satan hit you???

When Lucifer heard about what had happened, He.Was.Pissed. He deemed that you were no longer safe in Gehenna. Normally Satan wouldn't give you up so easily, But he hurt you. How could he even face you? You were the last person he would ever want to hurt like this. Damn it. He was a monster. Sitri knew that Satan hurt you on accident. But He still hurt you. So he does not have an opinion. And he will gladly stop anyone who hurts you like that even his own king. You are unconscious, He thought you died! Only until, They all did Only until Sitri yelled "I still hear a beat!"

You stayed at Paradise lost under Lucifer's care while you recovered. Once you recovered he'll demand you stay for the time usually he would ask, but your life is in danger, and he does not trust what decision you make to be a sound one. Satan was lucky Lucifer allowed him from visiting altogether. But, the visits were supervised. Paimon did not like it that they were treating Satan as some kind of enraged beast. But he can't deny that he wouldn't have done the same if it was someone else's king.

Satan wants to see you but feel as though you would not want to see him. He still visits when you're unconscious. His hand still shakes out of fear he might accidentally hurt you again. He hadn't come out of his room since coming to see you. When he is not in his own bad, staring blankly at the wall, He is clawing up the walls of his room, his bed sheets, and his pillows are torn to pieces. The nobles had never heard their king strong and always smiling, cry.

Even if you want to see him when you finally recover.(constant checkups with Lucifer) Satan just avoids you for a while. Not returning your calls flat out ignoring you by text. Finally you caught that man out of his castle. And He doesn't even look you in the eye when you stand face to face. He still looks guilty, Looks like he's seen a ghost every time he looks at you. You can even see him grow some facial hair. And according to Sitri 'hasn't showered in weeks hasn't eaten a lot in days. And that this is the worst depressive episode he's ever seen from him.'

The other nobles are urging you two to talk again. They swear that Satan is never a demon to hurt you on purpose. And he swears it will never happen again. Seeing Satan in this state is breaking their hearts. But at the same time they would never force you to make that decision. And if you never wanted to see him again they will support you! Even act as your bodyguard just to make you feel safe.

The pain he feels every time he raises his hand, and you flinch is more painful than thousands of angels tearing into his flesh. He's supposed to protect you... Hurting you should have never happened. And he will never do it again.

Satan is terrified of touching you again. It would take a while for him do not feel scared about hurting you by just touching you. Now he's even more regretful that you had to see him like this. He's angry at himself for being like this.

If you force him to talk to you, he'll break down, he'll start tearing up, he'll hold you close, his voice broke as he sobs apology after apology. Nails digging into your clothes as he mutters that he hurt you. That he's no better than an angel. That he's scared that he thought you died and he killed you.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

headaches galore

dad!quinn hughes x f!reader

warnings: swearing, headaches, uncharacteristic quinn??, fluff

word count: 4.1k

“There’s something wrong with Daddy.” A frail, worried voice nips through your train of thought, halting your movements as you shut the door to the washing machine.

When you spin around, you’re face to face with Freya. She’s still in her pyjamas, clutching a matted teddy in her hand as the legs of it trailed along the floor. Her eyes are wide, mouth tipping down at the ends as her other hand curled under her chin. She was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, jaw clenching and unclenching as she waited for your reply.

Truth be told, as soon as she’d voiced her worries, about a million things ran through your mind. You’d paused, making sure to gather yourself in the face of your daughter, who was obviously displaying her upset to the extent you now weren’t allowed to show.

You didn’t want your own anxiety to leak through and send her into a panic, because the last thing you needed (if Quinn really wasn’t okay) was a hysterical child and an ill husband on your hands.

So you took a deep breath, trying to calm your thumping heart, and made for Freya, allowing her to clasp her hand in yours, and kneeled in front of her.

If Quinn’s sluggish mood had anything to do with it, you guessed he’d had an oncoming headache all morning and that it had hit; he’d spent the last hour on the sofa, watching and interacting with Freya as Harry Potter played softly in the background.

“What’s happened?” You asked her, smoothing her dark waves in your palm as your eyes sought a pair of feet hanging off the sofa, only just in your line of view from where you were.

“I was playing with my Legos and asked if he wanted to play too, and he didn’t answer.” She worried, catching her bottom lip with her teeth and fidgeting from side to side as she refused to completely make eye contact with you.

You knew she was going to be a worrier when she grew up.

You offered a reassuring smile, picking her up as you climbed to your feet. Her head immediately swung in the direction of the front room, fingers going up to anxiously play with her lip. You caught the action, gently pulling her hand away before she worked herself up too much, “Is he sleeping?” You whispered, taking her down the corridor in the direction of the living room.

Quite early on, when Freya had learnt to walk and talk, you and Quinn had quickly had to devise a way of dealing with her small anxieties, and the one that you both seemed to naturally fall upon was asking her questions to encourage her to see things for what they were.

She nodded, her eyes flicking to yours. You could see the telltale signs of tears beginning to well up in her eyes, though she tried to hide it from you.

You smiled back at her, “I think Daddy might just have a headache–”

“What’s a headache?” Freya quizzed, her brows furrowing apprehensively as she clutched the teddy closer to her chest.

“A headache is when your head or face hurts.” You whispered, making your way to the front of the sofa, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, just a few feet away from Quinn.

Like you’d assumed, he was fast asleep, a leg slung over the edge of the sofa and his arms folded uncomfortably under his head. His neck was perched at an awkward angle, and you cringed, knowing when you woke him up he’d probably be in even more pain than he was at first.

You kept Freya in one arm, and knelt down in front of him. His cheeks were flushed red, and his mouth was parted slightly, chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took.

“Is he okay?” Freya whispered terribly, climbing out of your arms and sitting in front of his face.

“He’s fine, honey.” You paused, hesitating to wake him up just yet, “If you look closely, you can see his chest moving, can’t you?”

She looked briefly at Quinn, then turned back and nodded at you, restless as she pushed herself to her feet.

“That’s how you know he’s okay.” You whispered.

You knew if you didn’t wake him up right now, Freya would only fret even more, so you leant forwards, very aware of her keen eyes as they followed your hand to gently touch his forehead.

He was scorching. No wonder he’d only thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts today.

You felt a slight resistance, his head unconsciously leaning towards the coolness offered by your hand, and trailed your touch up to his hair, softly carding your fingers through. You didn’t know if it was a coincidence or a choice on his behalf, but you’d noticed he’d rarely cut his hair past his ears since he’d met you. It always seemed to curl down his neck nowadays; locks draped across his forehead when he laid down.

You thought it was rather breathtaking.

Freya seemed to settle a little, one of her small hands delicately resting on his forearm. You almost wanted to laugh – that she’d copied your actions and applied them to his arm instead, but there was a lingering worry that her anxiety would only increase with her age. It was always there.

“Daddy?” She whispered, as his eyelashes fluttered slightly, his breathing becoming ever so shallower as he came to. “Are you awake?”

The first thing he did when he opened his eyes was look straight at you, a slight edge of confusion on his face. His eyes seemed to automatically squint, as though he was attempting to block out the pain, and just one glance at him confirmed your suspicions. 

Something in your chest panged, and it was then that he turned his attention to the little lady eagerly anticipating his affections, and a small smile broke onto his face, “I’m awake, sweetheart. Did I fall asleep?” He pushed himself up, groaning as he righted himself from the awkward angles he’d placed himself in, and you took the opportunity to go into the kitchen.

You filled up a glass of cold water and took some painkillers from the cupboard and made your way back into the front room.

“–you want to play Legos with me?” Freya was back at the upturned box in the middle of the room, her previous distress seemingly forgotten as she rooted through the tub, the awful grating noise sounding from across the room.

You took a seat next to Quinn, and interrupted him before he could answer, “I’ll play with you instead. I think we should let Dad rest for a bit.” You interjected, passing him the water and pills.

You knew that no matter what state he was in, whether it be sickness, flu, broken bones or injured limbs, he’d never be able to say no to Freya when she asked him for anything. This seemed to be one of those times you’d have to make him rest if he wanted to feel better.

Thank you, he mouthed gratefully.

You shook your head, patting his thigh. Don’t worry about it.

If this happened five years ago, things would be a little different: you’d both be curled up on the sofa, something for you to watch on the TV in the background. Usually Quinn would be draped on you, your fingers twirling his hair as he was lulled into a sleep. It was part of his cure.

Now, however, things had been undoubtedly different since Freya had arrived. You couldn’t ignore the world and snooze on the sofa together – there was a little one running around that took instant priority, but as much as you loved Freya (to smithereens), you couldn’t help but feel a little like you were neglecting Quinn instead of making sure he was properly alright.

Nevertheless, when you sat on the floor, your back to the sofa – feeling the cushions dip against your back as a hand wove itself in your own hair, that guilt eased up a little. 

Freya was interested in her Lego for about five minutes, you following her lead as she voiced creatures and made up her own little narrative, before she quickly lost interest, her eyes becoming transfixed on the Harry Potter film playing in the background. She stopped playing, her actions becoming slower as she became distracted by the people on screen, and after a while of her sitting with her jaw open, taking in what was in front of her, she stood up and walked over to the corner of the room.

You watched, smiling behind your hand, as she dragged her beanbag chair into the centre of the room, plopping down on it without a care in the world. She seemed to have forgotten you were playing with her, but truthfully you didn’t mind. 

She was nearly five, and she was already quite determined for her age. You knew that beanbag chair was pretty heavy for her to lift; she’d occasionally made a performance of dragging it along the carpet, huffing and puffing and pretending to wipe a layer of sweat off her forehead as you and Quinn giggled to yourselves.

It was a sharp tug on your hair that startled you out of your own head, and you lent your head back against the cushion of the sofa, your smile broadening as Quinn pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He shuffled backwards on the sofa, opening up the space for you to lie down now that Freya had settled, and you eagerly climbed up, your back soon pressed to the cushion as Quinn settled himself on top of you, sighing in relief.

“How are you feeling?” You whispered, one hand immediately moving up to play with his hair as the other trailed to his back, rubbing across the material of his shirt. It was a grey Under Armour one, one that hugged his torso nicely, giving you a good look at the expanse of his back.

“Better now.” He whispered, “Missed you.”

A warmth emanated in your chest, and you melted into him, “Missed you too.”

“Was she okay earlier? She looked a bit wobbly when I woke up.” He adjusted himself so he was looking at you, and you shook your head.

Something in his expression dropped, and your hand travelled to his face, carefully tracing a thumb over his cheekbone, drawing his attention from Freya to you. He was biting the inside of his cheek, eyes concerned.

“She was a bit scared when you didn’t wake up. She found me in the laundry room and I had to explain that you were fine.” 

Immediately you saw the guilt pool in his eyes as he turned back to the beanbag chair. You couldn’t see her over the back of it, but there were stray wisps of brown curls standing up from where Quinn had tied her hair up earlier.  

“I should have just taken some painkillers.” He muttered.

“You would have gone to sleep anyway.” 

He sighed, defeated. He knew you were right – there was no point in arguing.

You took a breath, pulling his mind away from the conversation before even he ended up in his own pit of agitation – inevitably, that he was the one that had caused Freya’s anxiety (you suspected she was so anxious because she’d been raised in a post-lockdown world where only now people were returning back to normal) – and focused back on the bags under his eyes.

“Speaking of sleep…” You trailed off, and Quinn brightened slightly, readjusting himself so his back was pressed to the back of the sofa, one leg slung over your waist and his face hidden in your neck. It gave you a bit of breathing room, but it also meant he could see Freya.

You wrapped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you felt him press a tired kiss to the side of your neck.

Your attention turned back to the film, only when you looked over at Freya, her face was poking out from the side of her bean bag chair, eyes carefully watching you and Quinn. You could see the mischievous, slightly longing, glint in her eye before she’d even made the conscious decision to move herself, and you let out a breath of laughter as she came bounding towards you two, Quinn cracking his eyes open at the banging of footfalls.

“I love you, please can I cuddle?” She asked sweetly, and you felt Quinn squeeze you a little harder, trying to reign in the urge to just keep her locked in both your arms for the rest of her life.

You don’t know how it’d happened, but whenever she asked for things, she always started with an ‘I love you’. The first time she’d done it, you could barely restrain yourself around Quinn, because, my word, you guys created that little bundle of adorable cuteness. It still hadn’t really changed, only this time Quinn was less subtle in his hints.

Her face lit up, Quinn’s eyes looking back at you through her as she excitedly – yet gently – climbed on top of you. Quinn pushed himself further towards the back of the sofa, you shuffling towards the edge, as she slotted perfectly between you both. Her head was where Quinn’s had previously been, and she was sandwiched pretty comfortably between you both. You placed a hand on her head – she was still watching Harry Potter – and looked over the top of her to Quinn, who was grinning ear to ear. When he caught your gaze, he winked, and you rolled your eyes.

‘I want another’ he pointed comically at Freya, careful not to catch her eye with his movements.

He was beginning to get predictable, but you wouldn’t choose to have it any other way.

___

You’d put Freya to bed a little over an hour ago, and had only just managed to get settled into bed; your bedside light on as you read your book. The rest of the house was dark, save for the bathroom light that stayed on through the night just in case, and Quinn was trying to sleep next to you.

He’d been shuffling for a while, unable to get comfy – until he froze, the sudden stillness catching your eye.

“What?” You asked tensely, unsure as to whether or not he was shocked over something or panicked.

He waited a second before answering, “Can you hear that?” He whispered.

You held your breath. At first you couldn’t hear anything, but then came the faint sound of small footsteps across the landing, and the light streaming from the bathroom was blocked.

In its place was a sleepy girl, once again clutching her teddy to her chest. Her hair was wild and scruffy, and instead of opting to sleep in pyjamas for the night, she’d chosen to wear a pirate costume instead – she wore a pair of baggy red and white shorts, with a white t shirt and black vest top, the pocket complete with a skull and crossbones. 

You thought she looked utterly adorable – and not at all menacing, no matter how many times she’d brandished a plastic sword in your face in an attempt to avoid being put to bed. You and Quinn had had to take turns trying to get her in because neither of you could keep a straight face for too long.

Now, however, neither of you wore a smile.

“Are you okay, baby?” Quinn asked first, being closest to the door.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes as she made her way over to him, “My hair hurts.” She explained, pulling an uncomfortable face.

Your curiosity peaked, and you put your book back on the bedside table, watching as Quinn frowned, lifting her onto the bed with undeniable ease. 

“Your hair?” He echoed, looking at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

You met his gaze, trying not to smile, “Can you show us where it hurts?” You asked, turning back to her, “We’ll see if we can help, won’t we?” You looked back at Quinn, a stern look in your eye as you saw the corners of his mouth begin to tilt upwards.

He was still trying to digest the fact that her hair hurt.

Freya was oblivious, nodding eagerly as she placed a hand to the sides of her head, right over the top of her temples.

“Do you know what you need to solve that?” You asked rhetorically, slowly lifting the covers up, catching the way Quinn’s face fell out of the corner of your eye. He doesn’t particularly enjoy sharing the bed with a four year old that has a habit of kicking in the night, “Cuddles.”

Freya giggled, finding the exact answer she was hoping to hear (you knew you played right into her hands, but how were you supposed to say no to that face?), as she wriggled under the covers, once more placed between you both.

“If you’re not feeling any better in five minutes, just let us know, okay?” Quinn asked softly, as you reached to turn off your light.

You felt her nod beside you.

It was quiet. For a few minutes.

“Daddy?” She whispered, and you fought the urge to laugh. You kept your eyes shut, hoping she’d see you were still asleep and keep bothering Quinn.

“Yes?”

“I love you, please can you do the face-thing?” 

You knew as soon as she’d said those three words that Quinn was done for. There was no way he’d never not say break and give her what she wanted when she asked like that.

“Of course I can.” He replied, shuffling closer as Freya rolled onto her back, an arm nearly thwacking you in the face in the process. At the brush of contact you allowed your eyes to open, slyly watching as Freya laid on her back, hands by her sides with her eyes shut as Quinn dutifully and earnestly began stroking his fingers across her face.

He delicately traced her eyebrows, her forehead unintentionally crumpling at the sensation, eliciting a light chuckle from yourself and Quinn, the sound catching his attention as he glanced over at you accusingly.

He didn’t waver in maintaining Freya’s service, his touch going to her cheekbones, ones that almost mirrored his perfectly, even at her young age, and then across the bridge of her nose, before repeating the entire cycle without complaint.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene, something twisting in your gut as you observed Quinn and Freya together, the way he didn’t falter in his movements even though you knew for certain that his arm must have begun to ache from his diligent work.

He was such a good dad it almost brought you to tears thinking about it — because you knew he threw his heart and soul into the role because he wasn’t around as often as he’d like to be, a sad fact that Freya had gotten used to over the years.

You guessed that’s why she had such a special attachment to him, why a lot of her anxieties revolved around him. She was a pretty proactive personality, even though she was too young to realise that herself, and if she couldn’t see Quinn, she worried he wasn’t okay.

The first time you’d clocked the pattern was when he’d left in a three week roadie and she’d become hysterical to the point of being inconsolable after he’d taken a puck to the cheek and had to skate off the ice, clutching his face — no matter how quick you’d been to cover her eyes when the replay was shown, she managed to see the drip of blood onto the ice. How she’d understood what it meant at three was astounding to say the least.

When the camera didn’t show him for the last ten minutes of the match, you’d had to resort to turning it off (even though there was a chance he’d be called for post-game interviews) and waiting rather impatiently for him to call when he was free, in the hope Freya would calm herself before going to sleep.

It was then that Quinn had resorted to tapping his helmet three times after he’d gotten injured in play — it was the only way he could reassure Freya (and yourself) that he was okay.

After a few minutes, you both heard and saw her chest rise and fall, a little slower than before. Her breathing pattern had changed and her head had slumped a little in your direction, mouth falling open.

Quinn smirked that half-awkward way, looking at you proudly. The action had you rolling your eyes fondly, a hint of a smile on your face as he carefully slipped his arms under Freya’s body, carrying her back to her own room with an ease that had your toes tingling. 

You watched the door, eagerly anticipating his arrival once more, and when he’d gently shut it behind him, careful not to let the handle click too loudly, he smiled mischievously, jumping onto your side of the bed with the uncharacteristic giddiness of a teenager.

You lifted the covers up, welcoming him back into the warmth, “You’re so soft with her.” You whispered, going slightly cross eyed as he positioned himself on top of you, arms caging in your head as his forehead pressed to yours.

The cheeky twinkle in his eye wasn’t lost on you, nor was the way every inch of him seemed to be pressed directly against you. 

“Of course I am, she’s my firstborn.” He answered simply, lifting his forehead from you to pull back and press a charged kiss on your lips. 

“Firstborn?” You tilted your head, resisting the urge to smile at his obvious meaning, one hand going to cradle his forearm and the other brushing his hair from his face so your view of him was unobstructed.

Although you couldn’t see the change in colour that splattered his cheeks, you knew he was blushing purely because of the way he shrugged and turned his head away from you pointedly.

“Never say never, you know?” He mumbled.

He was right, in a sense. You had talked about the possibility of having more children, but you’d insisted it wasn’t something to plan just yet because there was absolutely no way you were having two children under five.

That was four years ago, and Freya was going to be five in four months — another fact that wasn’t lost on you.

There was also the unavoidable matter of Quinn and his habit of getting himself broody. It didn’t take much, mostly it was Freya and whenever she did something heartachingly precious and he just couldn’t contain his love for her, and sometimes it was as easy as a video of a baby flashing up on his phone or even a teammate taking their kid into work.

Or any child on the ice for that matter.

You hummed in agreement, “I do know.”

He raised his brows, trying not to get too hopeful at your wording, “Does that mean…”

“Not right now, but I think we should talk about it in the morning.” You replied, his smile infectious as he rolled off you, pretending to pump the air with his fists in triumph.

“Really?” He turned back to you, and you rolled your eyes at his giddiness.

“Really.” 

“Oh my God, I’m so excited.” He breathed, dragging a hand down the side of his face, “My heart is beating so fast.”

You laughed, turning on your side to face him, “Headache cured then?”

At this, his head snapped back to your face, a caught, almost panicky glint in his eye as his smile dropped fractionally, “I never said that.” He sounded almost offended, wincing for show.

You knew it was a lie – his energy levels were significantly higher than they had been earlier, and you could tell just by the way his eyes were fully open and lacking that telltale squint and weariness of the world around him that he was back to normal.

“Oh?” You teased, “Because I don’t think I believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me to still be able to cuddle me.”

“Jesus Christ, Quinn–” You laughed, not complaining or uttering a single protest of any kind as he wrapped a secure arm over your waist, pulling you closer to him, the duvet going straight over both your heads.

“You love it.” He insisted.

You sighed, “I do, I love it.”

“And you love me, too.”

You hesitated, pretending to think about it, until his fingers went to pinch your side, eliciting your laughter, “I really do.”

[storm-angel989]

Outside the Office Part Eight

Hi All! Mature content warning (it is Valentino, after all). Enjoy!

I awoke the next morning to the shrieking sound of an alarm clock. I groaned and snuggled tighter to Valentino. He rolled over and hit his phone until it finally fell silent. 

“Mmm. Good morning, Princessa.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to mine, a soft smile playing across his features. “I could wake up to this pretty face every morning.” He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “How do you feel? Did the epsom salt bath help last night?” 

I shivered but nodded, tucking my head to the base of his neck as I recalled the events of the night before. A few hours after I had fallen asleep against Valentino, I woke up, every muscle in my body screaming in pain. He had kissed me, and upon learning of my discomfort, he closed his computer and ran the warmest, toastiest bath I had ever had the pleasure of soaking in. 

He had gone out of his way to set up the bathtub well before he carried me over and sinking into the bathtub felt the same way heaven should. Honestly, the more I thought about it,  to call it a bathtub would be an understatement. His bathtub could easily fit both Valentino and I, and at least two others, with room leftover. He sat across from me while I soaked, punching away on his laptop. “Just be quiet, Princessa.” He had told me. “I need to concentrate on this.”  To see him go from working, the serious expression on his face as he concentrated on his laptop to the soft expression when he looked up at me sent butterflies all through my body. 

“It did,” I replied sleepily. I loved waking up next to him, feeling him underneath me. Protecting me. I wrapped my arms around him the best I could. “I feel much better now.” 

He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face as he studied it. “You look better. The bruises are already starting to turn. You meant it when you said angels healed fast.” He gently let go of my chin. 

I snuggled back against him. With the sleepiness still in my brain, I let out a half laugh. “I mean, it makes sense though that when I was back home I still healed slower than the other angels I trained with.” I snuggled closer to him. “But I was held to the same timeline, even when it still hurt. It made me tough.” 

I heard him take a sharp inhale and looked up to see him as he clenched his jaw. He pulled me up to his chest and pressed his lips to my forehead. 

“That isn’t okay, and it will never happen to you again. Not while I’m around,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Warmness spread through me at his words. My head against his chest, tucked under a mound of blankets, I would have laid there all day if I could have. After a few minutes of cuddling, he sighed and slowly sat up, moving himself carefully so as to not aggravate my pain. 

“As much as I would love to stay here all day with you, I have to work today.” He said, echoing my thoughts. He kissed me again. “And you’re going with me.”

It wasn’t fear that rushed through me, but the idea of going back to that place made me uneasy. Sending my discomfort, he wrapped both his arms around me. 

“No harm will come to you, not this time nor ever again. I promise.” He kissed the top of my head. “After today the world will know that you belong to me, that you are the princess of hell, and no one will fuck with you ever again, lest they face the wrath of Lucifer himself.” He nuzzled into me. “Believe me when I tell you what you saw in the bathroom that day, isn’t a fraction of what the king of hell is capable of.” 

I didn’t answer. I wondered, not for the first time since my arrival, if being half demon came with any perks- like the strength and quick healing benefit from my angelic side. I made a mental note to text Lucifer and ask him. What’s the worst he could do, not respond? Tell me no? I buried my face into him as those feelings washed over me. 

Under me, Valentino let out a steady exhale and lifted both of us up. “Shall we get ready for the day?” He leaned in and gave me a smile, his lips hovering against mine. “I think we both need a wake up shower.” He swung himself off the bed and offered his hand. “Come, mi amor.” 

His hand in mine, I gingerly stood up. He waited for me to find my balance, testing a few steps slowly. Once I was sure of my footing, I followed him into the bathroom, his fingers intertwined with mine. 

“Sit on the counter. You haven’t moved very much over the past few days.  You’re going to be sore.” He lifted me up and set me on the counter.  “I’ll give you something to keep you comfortable throughout the day. It will last longer, and work better than ibuprofen.” He dug through and came up with a vial, and a wrapped syringe and needle. He reached for my arm. 

I jerked away from his touch. “Absolutely not. No. I’m fine with just the pills. That’s all I need. It’s all I’ve ever needed, and more than I’ve received on more than one occasion. I will survive.” 

He looked torn. “But Princessa. It won’t get you high, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you. It will only make you more comfortable.”

“I said no.” 

He sighed in frustration but put everything back in the drawer, rummaging around again and pulling out a thermometer. “Fine. Here, put this under your tongue before Vox bitches at me again.” 

I opened my mouth and he placed it under my tongue. I closed my lips around it and waited. He walked away from me and opened the shower door. I heard the steady stream as the water began to fall and watched as steam floated towards the top of the room.  

He turned his attention back to me and crossed his arms. “Sit. Stay. I’ll go get more ibuprofen from your room. I gave you the last of it before bed last night. And remind me to write it on the board so housekeeping brings up more.” He stepped out, closing the door behind him. 

I continued to wait as patiently as I could for him to come back. I looked around the bathroom, trying to find something to keep my interest. Much like Valentino’s room, it was decorated sparsely. But instead of the reds and purples that made up his bedroom, his bathroom was primarily white and gray, with gold accents sprinkled throughout. The shower itself was huge, and between that and the bathtub, the majority of the space should have been taken up. Instead, Val had a double vanity directly across from the shower. The rest of the amenities, including a second sink, sat further in the back of the room, not too far from the tub. 

My first time in the shower I hadn’t been with it enough my first time in it to realize just how vast it was. Unlike my combined shower and bathtub at my fathers house back home, his shower was more like a solidly tiled room with several different shower heads scattered about. Shelves lined the walls both when you first walked in, and scattered throughout. Although we didn’t use it, there was a solid bench made of tile off to the side with several shower heads directly above it. I wondered what the purpose of that was. So someone could sit and shower maybe? 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and he walked back in, muttering angrily to himself. The door slammed and I jumped. 

He frowned and touched my cheek. “I’m sorry for startling you. Open up.” He took the thermometer out of my mouth and held it up to the light. “Normal. Good.” 

“Are you good?” I asked with concern.  

“I’m just running late, babe.” He kissed the top of my head and helped me down from the countertop. He pressed two pills into my hand and filled a cup of water for me. “Ibuprofen. As promised. Take it. Now.” 

“Thanks, Val.” I took the medication and tossed the cup in the garbage. From the corner of my eye I watched him take his pajamas off.

“Princessa. I don’t have time this morning,” he warned. He came over to me and tugged his shirt off over my head.  

“What? I’m just admiring what’s mine.” I laid my hands against his abdomen, feeling his hard muscles. God, could this man look anymore like something out of a magazine? I wondered what would happen if I slipped my hand just a little lower….

He rolled his eyes and took my hand in his. He tugged me forward and opened the shower door. “After you, Princessa.”

I stepped inside and settled myself under a stream of warm water. I allowed it to wash over me, feeling the instant relief it offered. I tried to lift my arms above my head, letting out an involuntary hiss as my muscles contracted. Ever watching, Valentino stepped behind me and squirted shampoo in his hand,  lathering my blonde hair. 

“Vel is going to do your makeup in her room this morning,” he said as his fingers pressed against my scalp.  “Unfortunately, I have to deal with a fire downstairs so she’ll text me when she’s done and I’ll come back up and get you.” 

“You’re leaving before me?” 

He sighed, “I don’t want to. I have to. I’m sorry Princessa.” He moved my body back under the water. “ Don’t talk. Close your eyes.”

I did as he told me, holding onto him for balance as he worked his fingers through my hair, ensuring all the shampoo was out. After a few minutes, he pulled me out from under the water, guiding me to a hotter stream of water. “Let that hit your muscles for as long as you can take it.” 

I watched him run soap over his entire body. He closed his eyes, letting the water run over him. I bit my lower lip, trying to keep myself under control.  “I understand Val. Work comes first back home too.” 

Annoyance flashed over his features. He stepped out from under the water and pulled me to him. “Princessa. I mean this in the kindest way, but heaven sounds awful.” 

“It  wasn’t so bad.” I said as I nabbed the bar of soap from him. “I just learned tough lessons, that's all.” 

He took the soap back from me and turned me, running it down my back. “That sounds like a fucking trauma response if I’ve ever heard one. And believe me, I’ve heard plenty.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me back under the stream of water, kissing my neck. “You will never go through that again.” 

I believed him. I leaned into him and I felt the same warmth I had felt the night before ignite in my belly. “Mmm…Val.” 

He nipped my neck ever so gently and I relaxed into him. 

“Don’t mmm Val me, Princessa. You’ll make me more late than I already am. I’m just trying to speed things along.” His tone changed to light and playful. “Though touching your body is an added bonus.” He ran his hands down my hips and titled my chin up so our eyes met, kissing me as the water cascaded around us. He broke away after a moment and turned the water off. 

“Val…” I leaned my head into him. 

“Oh no no no. I mean it, I’m late.” He opened the door and tugged my hand, pulling me out with him. 

He grabbed a towel and paused as he caught sight of my body. I felt the tinglement of embarrassment as his eyes seemed to study me,  his expression unreadable. He stepped forward after a moment and ran a hand down my sides, pausing at my waist. 

“Looks like all the bruises are starting to yellow up, not just the ones on your face. Lucifer was concerned about the ones on your belly…but they look okay.” He bent over and kissed down my body, starting at my neck and pausing, for the briefest of moments, as his fingers brushed my nipples. 

I let out an involuntary gasp as he continued to move lower, his lips hovering above my belly. He carefully kissed around the green and yellow splotches before pausing and standing up, back to full height. Even from under the towel, I could tell he was rock hard. 

“I thought you didn’t have time,” I panted, reaching my arms around his neck. 

“I don’t. But work be damned.” He lifted me up and set me on the counter, spreading my legs. He lowered his head and his lips pressed against my lower belly.

“Relax, Princessa. You’re going to enjoy this.” 

I felt his lips move lower, his tongue flicking my clit.  I moaned at the feeling, gripping him. “Valentino!” I hissed as I bucked my hips. Unconcerned, his tongue slid lower, slipping inside of me. I felt my body explode in a thousand nerve endings and I dug my nails into him as I came. 

“Valentino!”

“Mm…princessa, you taste so sweet.” He brought his head up and kept his hands around my waist, pulling me to him. 

I rested my head against his sternum, trying to catch my breath as I came down from the release. “Fuck, Valentino!” I whispered. Every single nerve in my body tingled. 

He chuckled, but rubbed my back. “Easy baby girl. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to mine and pulled back gently, reaching over to his phone on the counter. He hit the home button and cursed under his breath. He pressed his lips to mine again and lifted me back to the floor, taking a moment to steady me in his arms. I gripped him gently, head against his chest as I stared at the wall. I closed my eyes. 

“Babygirl.” He said softly. “We can’t sleep. Come on now, we need to get ready, or we’ll throw Vox’s schedule off too.” He gently pushed me up, holding me by my shoulders as he looked at me with concern. “Sweetheart. Are you alright?”

“More than alright.” I leaned in for another kiss. “I want more.” 

He sighed heavily and pressed his lips to mine before pulling back.  “Princessa. I would love nothing more. But we’ve got to get going.” He nodded towards the counter. “Use the sink on the right. I asked housekeeping to bring over a few of your things after you went to bed last night. They’re in the top drawer, organize it to your liking later. They’ll replace what they took in your room, so if you end up spending the night with me you don’t have to go running back and forth.”

I smiled at his thoughtfulness, and leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Thanks Val.” 

He shooed me away, but gave me a soft smile. “Go on. Get ready. And don’t dry your hair. we don't have time. Vel will take care of it.” 

I dug through the drawer,  pleased to find he really did bring over everything I needed. I set to work, going through my own morning routine. By his side, I watched him do the same. There was something oddly comforting watching him get ready, something that made him seem more…human-like wasn’t quite the word I was looking for. Softer maybe? I wasn’t sure. Looking in the mirror at my splotchy face, I picked up my pink comb and began to work on my hair. 

He stepped over to me. “Vel can handle the knots. Come on, I have to go. “ He took the comb from my hand and set it down.”And before I forget to remind you, you need to eat before I get back up here.” 

I nodded and watched as he dropped his towel. I bit my lip, and he shot me a knowing look before he covered himself in a black bathrobe. He tossed a matching robe over my shoulders and I let my own towel hit the ground. He leaned into my back and reached around the front of me as he tied the belt around my waist, making sure I was covered. 

“Come on, Princessa,” he said softly in my ear, “you can sit on the bed while I get dressed.” 

I followed him out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he disappeared into his closet, remerging moments later dressed in black pants, a matching belt with a gold heart shaped buckle, and a black button up shirt, tucked in neatly at the waist. He threw his signature red coat over his shoulders and adjusted his glasses. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Why do you wear glasses, Val?” I asked as he took my hand, leading me down the hall. 

“They cut the harshness of the light in the studio,” he answered. “Otherwise I end up with a headache. But I wore them so often they kind of became a thing, so now I wear them whenever I’m out. Honestly, it helps a ton, and  I don’t get nearly as many headaches as I used to.” 

He knocked quickly on Velvette’s door. “Vel? It’s me. Open up.” 

I heard the door unlock and Velvette stood, looking as perfect as ever. 

“Ah! Reader. You…your bruises turned yellow. And green. That’s going to change everything I had planned. Come in, come in, I have breakfast for you. Nothing fancy but you can eat while I do something with that hair.” 

Valentino kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you later, my love.” He gave Velvette a look. “Take care of her.”

“Shoo. You’re disgustingly late. Goodbye!” She closed the door in his face and looked at me. “Follow, follow.” 

I trailed behind her as we crossed the room, taking in the designs as best I could at her quick pace. Unlike Valentino’s room, Velvette was rich with deep red with black and silver accents sprinkled throughout. I didn’t have nearly enough time to look around before she led me through a door and pointed at the salon chair in front of a mirror.

“Sit! Sit. Here. Eat.” She handed me a granola bar and a bottle of Sweet Sixteen. “Get these down and then I’ll grab you a cup of coffee if you want it.” 

I unwrapped the bar and took a bite as she busied herself with my hair, effortlessly unknotting it. She blew it dry and styled it to her vision as I quickly finished breakfast. True to her word, she paused and got both of us a cup of coffee once my hair was finished. 

“Thank you, Vel.” I said, sipping from the red, heart shaped mug. 

“Of course. Coffee is important. Coffee is vibes.” She took a drink from her own mug and studied my face. “How are you? Is Val treating you okay? Love him, but he can be a real dick sometimes, but don’t tell him I said that.”  She paused. “Actually, you can tell him I said that. He’ll laugh.” 

I smiled at her concern. “ Vel, honest and truly he makes me feel safe in a way no one else ever has. I love him, Vel.”

She seemed satisfied with my answer. “I get it,” she responded as she set down her empty mug. “I feel that way about Vox. But sweetheart, don’t be afraid to put him in his place when needed. Sometimes it’s necessary.” 

I drained the rest of my cup and she spun me around to face her. 

“Enough of that. Let’s get your makeup done. It will need to be touched up before you go with Vox. You don’t need to do anything, I’ll meet you down in his studio right before you go on set. But for what you’re doing with Val this will be fine. Close your eyes.” 

I did as she told me and sat patiently waiting as she gently covered my face in a plethora of creams and powders.  Eventually I felt her turn the chair back towards the mirror. 

“Open. What do you think?” 

My reflection in the mirror was the opposite of the one I had seen this morning. Every bruise, even my black eyes, had vanished under the cover of her makeup. Almost as if nothing had happened. 

“And the outfit you’re wearing will hide everything else. At the rate you’re healing though, I think you’ll be back to normal within a week. Come now, let’s get dressed.” 

She helped me put my arms into the shirt and closed the ribbons down the back, yanking them tight so the back wouldn’t open. The front seamlessly hugged my body and hid everything I had behind a high neckline. The jeans she tugged on fit every curve and sat low on my hips. I stepped into a pair of low, comfortable black ankle boots, red bottoms showing off with every step. She fluffed my hair and around my neck, she hung a small necklace with a single charm V shaped charm dangling from it. Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t tell if I was modestly hiding behind my outfit, or if I was showing off everything by showing off nothing. I felt amazing. 

“Well? Give me your thoughts?” She asked, fluffing my hair again. “Looking good, don’t you think?” 

“It’s perfect.” I turned and hugged her. “Thank you.”

She laughed but hugged me back. “Nothing to it princess. Now go knock 'em dead. Make them wish they had never laid eyes on Reader Morningstar.” 

I heard a knock on the door. Velvette perked up. 

“And right on schedule. I guess a broken clock is right at least twice a day. Come on in, Val, doors unlocked.” 

The door swung open and Valentino walked in, fingers flying as he texted on his phone. He looked up and I gave him my best smile. His eyes went wide and his phone disappeared into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me to him, pressing a kiss onto me.  He leaned back after a second and licked his lips. “Mm. Strawberry. Good choice Vel.” 

Velvette rolled her eyes and swung her hips to the side, but her expression gave away how pleased she was. “Whatever. It wasn’t for you.” 

“I think you’re lying, but it doesn't matter. Come on, mi amor. We don’t want to be late. Well, later than we are.” He wrapped his arm around me and we walked towards the door. Right before we walked out, he paused and glanced back at Velvette. “Thanks Vel. You outdid yourself.”

“Don’t I always?” She asked, but her tone was that of a satisfied cat. “Go on. Get out of here. See you tonight. And reader!” 

I turned back as Valentino hustled me down the hallway. “What’s up Vel?”

She grinned. “You look killer, darling. Make them respect you.” 

[danikamariewrites]

Loved ‘My North Star’ so much!! Now I can’t stop thinking about Cassian with a mate who can wipe the floor with him in combat and he’s like wtf? I have met my match (or superior in this case). If you write a part 2 (which I hope you do!) could you include that? Or write a seperate story?

When The Nightmare Feels Real

Cassian x reader

A/n: So I wanted to write this as the part two originally but I thought adding Cassian’s view of how strong reader is would be good to. Again, thank you for all the love on My North Star! It’s definitely one of my favorite fics I’ve written. I’m very proud of that one.

Warnings: nightmares, worries, and some fluff

Ever since you landed in Velaris Cassian has been amazed by you. He has met his match yet his equal with you. You are everything he has ever wanted in partner. The last year with you has been amazing.

You’re adventurous and strong. But there are times when you haven’t loved your new home. Adjusting to Velaris was hard. As much as you hated your life and siblings, you did miss your home.

Lately you’ve been going through one of those phases where your nightmares were too much. Sleep was impossible once you woke up. Too many times Cassian has found you on the roof staring at the stars. A longing look in your eyes.

He was too scared to do anything but sit there with you. Cassian yearned to pick you up, holding you to his chest as he brought you as close to the stars as possible.

Tonight was one of those nights. Except tonight you weren’t on the roof. Cassian had sensed you up in the training ring. When he pushed open on the door he spotted you fully dressed in your Illyrian leathers that you fixed some of your armor to.

Making as much noise as he could Cassian came to lay down next to you. Your jaw was clenched so tight Cassian could hear your teeth grinding together. You were gripping your hands so tight your knuckles were stark white. It broke Cassian’s heart to see you like this. To see his girl, so strong and sure of herself, become unsure and question herself and abilities.

“What if they come true one day?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “What if he does find this place that I love so much like in my nightmares? And what if I can’t do anything to save you? Or the rest of the family.” A tear slid from the corner of your eye into your hairline.

Cassian sat up, smoothly pulling you on to his lap, smoothing down your hair. “That won’t happen y/n. I’d never let him or anyone hurt you Angel. And no one. No. One. Is taking me from you. That’s a promise.”

You feel his rough fingers gently caress your chin, pulling you to look up at him. “I can fight. Our family can fight. You, my fearless warrior, can fight like I have never seen before. There isn’t a doubt in my mind you couldn’t protect me.” Another silent tear falls down your face.

Cassian wipes them from the apples of your cheeks. He stands, holding out his hand for you. “Get up,” he said softly. You gently place your hand in his calloused one.

As soon as you stand Cassian pulls away getting into a ready fighting position. You shoot him a questioning look. “You wanna do this now?” “Yeah! I’m trying to prove a point babe. Let’s go!” He starts bouncing on the balls of his feet, punching the air.

You shake your head at him getting in your own ready stance. Cassian nods and you nod back signaling the start of your sparring session.

You felt alive and alert. Sparring with Cassian always made you feel better. He knows all the ways to push you to be the best fighter.

Once you had Cassian pinned your scowl turned into a smirk. His point finally hitting home. If you could take down the General of the Night Court you could surely you could take down Castor. With Cassian and the rest of your family standing with you nothing would harm you.

[sp-by-april]

One shot with gross yandere/stalker Eric and heavy bdsm? Breaking and entering, dom/sub, impact play, shibari, slapping, maybe calling him master, the whooooole nine yards (^^ゞ

Take it and run with it, everything you write is fire

Your wish is my command. 👼🏽

Cartman x F!Reader

[Submit a prompt for tonight's smut-a-thon!] [Eric Cartman Master List]

I wasn’t sure what to do. I fell asleep safely in my bed at my parent's house and woke up in Eric’s basement. He was so excited when I woke, he was practically vibrating.

I looked around to try and get my bearings. I was stripped naked and so was he. I had to stare. His cock was rock hard, dripping wet with precum and so fucking thick that just looking at it hurt. The next thing I knew, I was up on my knees, and my hands were behind my back. I was groggy and confused the entire time he tied my body up in thick red ropes.

I whined as I tried to wiggle and loosen anything.

Eric knelt behind me, “You’re so cute when you struggle,”

He smacked my ass hard as shit and I cried out.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” He groaned and I could tell he was stroking himself back there, “You can’t just tease me like you do and not expect me to do something,”

“..What? I don’t know–“ I stammered.

“Don’t play stupid. You know exactly what I’m talking about.,” He rubbed the head of his thick cock along my slit, “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re swollen shut,”

He pushed inside me and I nearly screamed. My outburst of pain subsided into a small whimper.

“Stop whining,” He smacked my ass again, rubbed his palm over the sore spot, and then squeezed my flesh, “I’ll make it fit,”

He thrust deep inside of me and I bit my lip until I tasted copper. He was stretching me out so far I could barely stand it.

He groaned as he shifted into me, “You’re so fucking tight,”

The way he felt inside of me was incredible. I winced in pleasure and pain as Eric continued to build up a rhythm, pounding into me harder and faster. He grabbed onto the rope and started using it to pull me further onto his cock.

I clenched my teeth as I tried not to scream or moan at too high of a volume.

Apparently that was a mistake.

“I know you can get louder,” Eric leaned over me and his hand slid over my throat, “Don’t make me get rough. I’ll probably come just from smacking you around,”

My whimper turned into full throated moan. Eric slammed into me hard, as if to prove it point, and my whole body jumped as I cried out.

The wet smacking sounds of his body slamming into mine were dwarfed by the moans and cries pouring out of my mouth.

Despite the pain, that thick cock he had was massaging my sweet spot so damn well. I couldn’t fucking stand how good it felt.

All my muscled seized up, and my arms wrenched in pain. My eyes rolled back, my jaw went slack as a loud, shuddering moan erupted from deep inside of me. The soft, warm walls in my core tightened up around him and gripped him possessively.

I wasn’t the only one who had something erupt. Eric groaned deep and loud, almost as loud as I was. His hips bucked up into me abruptly and I nearly squealed as he tested the limits of my core. He buried himself as deep as my body would let him and I could feel each intense pulse as his cock spit hot, wet jets up against my cervix and filled me up completely. I was convinced that his cum would be spilling out of me for days.

He panted and leaned over me, “You want more, don’t you?”

I sighed as the hand around my throat tightened, “Yes, sir,”

[cupcakemolotov]

Ex's and Oh's: Part Two

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Minor Character Death; Magical Realism; We Make War Not Love; Post-Divorce; These Two Fools in Love; Klaus and Caroline Being Territorial; for each other; tyler is dead; kind of; Canon-Typical Violence; Violence; Murder; Werewolf!Klaus; Human!Caroline

Caroline's return to New Orleans is a little less triumphant than she'd like. There is a dead body in her trunk and a magical artifact in her passenger seat, and no matter how much she'd like too, the chances of avoiding her ex-husband are astronomically small. What, with the mate bond and all, but a girl's gotta hope.

“Caroline, why are we here?” Bonnie asked as she looked around at the familiar bar they’d once visited regularly before. Before.

Caroline looked up from her pile of beer battered fries. “I missed you?”

Bonnie gave her a look. “I missed you too, but I expected this chat to happen like, three days from now. You know, once you settled in and actually had the time to try that thing most of us do called communicating with your ex.”

“We should definitely go out again soon,” Caroline agreed with a nod. “This time with cocktails instead of beer, maybe during that dinner you could give me a list of who these mythical ex’s of yours are that you’d willing talk to. I only have the Curse on Sight bullet point list saved to my phone.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie said in fond exasperation. “You know what I mean. When you called and asked for your boxes, I was expecting to play delivery girl, not go out for an impromptu dinner. Please tell me you’re not doing this to avoid Klaus.”

“Hey,” Caroline protested as she gestured towards her food. “I’m hungry, and being hangry cannot improve this situation on any level.”

“Sure,” Bonnie drawled, “but there is no way you can convince me Klaus doesn’t have food in his house. I know how many calories werewolves consume in a day and it’s a lot.”

“He might have a house full of food, but there was nothing to eat.” Nothing she wanted. Not a single emergency bag of Doritos, no chocolate bars tucked away on a shelf, no decent cheese. The freezer hadn’t even contained a quart of emergency ice cream. She wanted to eat her feelings, and Bonnie was lucky she’d agreed to actual food instead of eating her weight in pie.

“Fine, I’ll give you that,” Bonnie allowed. “I’m not saying you owe him anything, but did you at least tell him you were going out?”

“Klaus,” Caroline said with false cheer. “Wasn’t there when I woke up, so I decided he didn’t get an opinion.”

Bonnie groaned and covered her eyes. “Haven’t you had enough rampaging werewolves today?”

“Eh,” Caroline said dismissively. “This morning was hardly a rampage, and you know it. Besides, torturing Tyler is absolutely a form of stress relief. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Probably. Bonnie was right, it would definitely piss him off that she’d left, and what she’d left him would not improve the situation. Dunking a fry into her pile of ketchup, she wrestled with the truth that she wasn’t in a mood yet to improve things.

I know a war when I see one.

Those words had haunted her as she’d fallen asleep, and had resonated in her chest when she’d woken. This felt like a war. Her own personal fight for something she wanted so badly she’d buried it under the ash and smoke of her temper, the scorched earth of her hurt. Wanted so badly and yet, no idea how to move past that anger.

Bonnie made a noise. “I knew we should have gone to Marcel’s.”

Her jaw clenched so hard, Caroline thought she could hear her teeth grinding. “No pack.”

“You can’t avoid them forever.” The words were said carefully, her best friend far too aware of that sore-point.

“Oh, I won’t,” Caroline said, flashing her teeth. “I really, really won’t.”

Thoughtfully, Bonnie relented enough to pick up her own fry. “What did Klaus tell you before he went off torture Tyler’s remains?”

Caroline shrugged. “He’s made changes, he’s the almighty ruler who rules with an iron fist, murder murder, the usual.”

I miss you.

She missed him.

Muttering something pithy, Bonnie pulled out a small bundle of herbs and dumped them on a convenient plate between them. A moment later, the familiar scent of burning sage brought a deluge of memories of ten years ago, and Caroline swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat.

How often had she and Bonnie sat in this booth with sage burning between them, tipsy from cocktails? How many burgers had been consumed in the name of girl’s night? How often had she wished she could do this again as she sat alone in a random diner, eating pie and rapidly texting the second most important person in her life?

“Caroline,” Bonnie huffed. “You know people are straining to hear every word you say. People have been staring for the last ten minutes, there is no way the locals aren’t already gossiping.” Pointedly she glared at someone over Caroline’s shoulder.

“Nothing I said so far should be a surprise, they’ve all lived with his ego as long as I have.” Caroline said, emphasizing her words with the jab of a french fry.

Bonnie made a face in silent agreement. “I am absolutely not on team Klaus, but this separation hasn’t been easy for either of you.”

Caroline looked away for a moment, because she didn’t know how to explain the tangle in her chest, the way it’d felt like a fist when she’d woken alone in a bed that smelled just like her best dreams. Tired, bruises stiff and aching, she wanted him there and she was mad he wasn’t, and she was mad at herself for being mad about it. Showering had required that she clench her hands into fists not to sniff test everything in the shower, wanting his scent in her lungs.

“I know.” Her lips flattened. “I don’t know how to do easy anymore, Bonnie.”

“When have you ever?”

Caroline reluctantly smiled. “Klaus and I… we didn’t really have a lot of time to talk before he had to leave.” She would have been mad about that, that he’d disappeared so soon after the first time they’d seen each other in years, but she was firmly anti-zombie, so she had decided to be gracious about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about the rest of it. What they had said. Their conversation had felt too personal, too raw to repeat out loud. “He wants me to stay.”

“Oh, he definitely wants more than that,” Bonnie muttered.

A03: Part 2

Please remember all my fanfic has been locked due to AI Bots scraping A03.

[swifty-fox]

Writing prompt: “ i’d follow you to the ends of the universe, if you asked me to. ” Buck/Bucky

gunna go left field and do my Sci Fi AU

"Nothing's changed for me," John says.

They're alone in the galley, Gale sat facing the wisping purple and green tentacles of a nearby galaxy and John sat facing him.

Watching him.

Aching.

Gale chews his toothpick, a habit he'd taken up ever since his hypersleep detox. As if the jitters that suffused his body during recovery had all traveled to live in the clench of his teeth and a tongue flicking the piece of wood over gravestone straight teeth.

"Buck?" John asks, plaintive in his need for acknowledgment. "D'you hear me?"

"I hear you Egan."

And ah, that does hurt more than anything else. In moments like this, where it was just the two of them and the universe it had been just John. John in private, Egan to the rest of the world. Hon, if Gale was particularly tired and relaxed; early in the morning and sleepily post-coitus.

He had not been John, not been hon in months now. Not since he held Gale down with Curt's help and watched the blonde's brain make a valiant attempt to exit via his nostrils. Brought the real Gale back from the LCHS subroutine.

There were a lot of things different between them now. A lot of things were different about them as they both woke up from a life-long mind-control.

"I know what I feel. That ain't no drug, no computer plan. That's real."

"I believe you."

John's heart is cracking open, bleeding all over the metal floor tiles in great fucking rivulets. It shocks him Gale cannot see it, spreading about them like a flower, flickering at the edges with color and shape where John thinks traces of the pills will always remain, haunting him with a wonderous dreamscape he'll never enter again.

"You don't feel the same." The words are rotten meat and ash in his mouth. The burn of ozone and the particular dusty flavor of an asteroid.

"It ain't that simple," Buck says, voice modulated and quiet. His cheek flexes as he clenches his jaw and flicks the toothpick across his mouth again.

"It is to me. I know what was real I know what was manufactured. I look at you and my heart says it, my lungs and my skin and my bones. All the parts of my brain that thing never touched."

John knows he is begging now, in the way a man of his stature and pride could.

"Real, it says, real real real."

"You don't know that."

"I know. Know the same as I know how to pilot this ship."

Buck sighs heavily. There are bruises under his eyes, his hair growing longer than military issue the longer they're out here in deep space. His shoulders are broader, body leaner and more lithe now. Less time spent in front of a computer microscope and more hours wallowing away in the ship's gym, little else to do as they flee. John could perish for the want of touching him.

"I'd do anything for you sweetheart. I'd follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked me to."

He means it too, would spend the rest of his days on this ship drifting through space and past wonders behind man's comprehension. Eyes trained not towards the universe beyond the thick glass but trained on the only wonder that ever meant a damn to him.

"I'll wait for you forever."

[violetlunette]

For the sake of this ficlet, Silver is a female.

Notes: *Period talk and Lilia not understanding what it is.

*mini-twst spoilers

A sharp cry awakened Lilia from his slumber.

“Silver?” Since it wasn’t like Silver to cry out like that, Lilia was tense. He teleported from his room to the hallway, where he knocked. (She was a girl, so he couldn’t just barge in.) Lilia didn’t sense anyone or anything other than the child inside, but something was clearly wrong. He knew that before the shaky tone edged its way through the wood of the door.

“Fa—father?” The tremble and whimper in her tone twisted Lilia’s heart. Something was definitely wrong. Even so, he plastered a smile on his face as he opened the door. He didn’t want to make things worse after all.

“What’s—” The scent of iron hit Lilia’s senses instantly. His eyes grew twice their usual size as he stared at the source—a pool of blood soaked into the mattress.

A chill went through him.

“What in the world…?” His gaze darted around the room for Silver, and he found her on the floor, shaking as he clutched her stomach, breathing heavily. Lilia was before her in an instant.

“Let me see it,” he told her, peeling her arms away. Then he frowned when he noticed there was no blood on her nightgown or visible wound.

‘What is going on here?’ “Where's the wound?” he asked, his eyes searching Silver's body. Poor Silver was nearly as pale as her hair as she shook, her eyes wide as she tried to hold back her tears.

"I..." she started to speak, but then closed her lips, groaning as pain shot through her. Lilia grabbed Silver's shoulders to steady her as she lurched forward, teeth gritting.

“Silver,” Lilia repeated. “Where are you injured? You have to tell me, so I can take care of you.” Silver shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I...But I’m not… I didn’t…” The girl was mumbling, clearly bewildered by whatever was going on. Lilia clenched his jaw behind pressed lips, trying to keep his head.

“Silver. You’re bleeding,” he stressed. “And from the looks of it, you lost a lot of blood. If this keeps up, you could DIE. You need to show me where you’re hurt, now.” Silver rolled her lips back, shifting on the spot.

“I...I…” Her face turned pink, and Lilia struggled to keep himself from shaking her and demanding he show her the injury.

He didn’t understand. Why was Silver so reluctant to show him her wound? She never kept secrets from him before, and in this case, the wound must have been massive. Was she doing something she wasn’t supposed to do when she was injured? Was she afraid she’d get in trouble for it?

Lilia’s grip tightened on her shoulders.

“I promise, I won’t get mad,” he told her. “Whatever you did, I--”

“But that’s just it!” Silver burst, and tears now rolled down her face. “I don’t know what I did! I don’t know what happened! I—I just woke up, and I was bleeding!” She was staring at him, begging him to believe her. Lilia took a breath.

“We’ll figure out what happened later,” he promised. “For now, we need to treat you. So, just show me where the blood’s coming from,” he added, trying not to lose his patience with her, his terror clawing at him. He wanted to take care of Silver and make sure she was okay. That was all that mattered.

“Ngh!” Silver nearly doubled over, tears leaking from her eyes. Lilia held her up and shook her.

“Show me where you’re bleeding! NOW!” he ordered. Silver shook her head.

“I...I can’t…” she whimpered.

“Why?” Lilia said, impatience adding a growl to his tone.

"Because... because I’m not supposed to show that area... to boys..." There was a beat across the room.

“Silver. Point to where you’re hurt.” Silver pointed. Lilia blinked, his brain trying to catch up.

“You mean you’re hurt in your..."

“Um...Um, sort...sort of..." Silver mumbled, not looking up at her father out of pure embarrassment. “The pain’s in my stomach area. It’s just the blood’s coming out." She didn’t finish, and Lilia didn’t force her. His mind was catching up.

Silver must have either gotten some internal damage from training or eaten something poisonous. Either way, at least he had an idea of what was wrong. Unfortunately, if the pain was internal, then Lilia couldn’t do anything. He stood.

“We’re going to the healers,” he announced.

Silver got dressed as best she could in a black skirt, and the two tried to leave for town. However, as soon as they stepped outside, the pain in Silver’s gut became too much, and she nearly toppled over. Lilia didn’t waste a moment before scooping the child into his arms. She breathed heavily against the pain, air seething through her teeth. Lilia pulled her close to his body.

“It’s all going to be okay, Silver,” he murmured into the top of her head as the girl shivered. He began running as fast as his legs would carry him, panic making him forget about his flight ability. “Everything’s going to be fine.” It had to be. Lilia couldn’t lose his little girl.

He couldn’t.

~*~

Lilia’s head dropped to the table, his hand tightly wrapped around the glass Baul had given him. His bangs shadowed his eyes, and his hair, loose from its ponytail, fell around him.

“I… I don’t believe this. I mean… How…” The glass shook in his hand. Baul stared sympathetically.

“General…”

“It’s just...I just..."

“General, please, it’s going to be okay.”

“THERE IS NOTHING OKAY ABOUT THIS—period!” Lilia hollered, throwing his head back, revealing a pink face from the drink. Baul blinked then frowned.

“Are you talking about the affliction, or were you emphasizing?” Lilia’s face scrunched into a pout.

“Like it matters!” The old fae leaned back in his seat and took a heavy drink of the liquor Baul gave him to calm his frazzled nerves. Lilia felt like a complete idiot.

Lilia had brought Silver to the doctor, one who knew the two well, as Lilia often brought her for checkups. Both he and Silver were terrified, especially when they had to take Silver to treat her. Then, after several awful minutes of Lilia going over the worst-case scenario, a nurse came out laughing. (Lilia had to stop himself from clocking her for laughing while his child was dying.) The lady—realizing her life was on the line—quickly assured him that what Silver was going through was just her entrance into womanhood.

Knowing that Lilia—a man—wouldn’t understand what this meant, she immediately jumped into an explanation.

Basically, Silver developed a demon in her womb area that demanded an infant sacrifice every month. If a baby wasn’t supplied, the demon would go mad and rip Silver’s insides apart, resulting in the carnage leaking out the closest exit.

Okay, she didn’t say any of THAT but Lilia would rather she had, as it was surprisingly less gory and traumatic than what was actually happening to Silver.

The gist he got was that her uterus—the place where the female body stored the “eggs” to make babies—wanted to create a baby. However, it needed a seed of some sort from a man to do so. Without the seed, the uterus dumped the eggs for that month, resulting in a bloody mess and pain.

If Lilia understood correctly, then Silver’s body was punishing her for NOT being pregnant, even though Silver was TWELVE.

The father did not understand the biological logic of that—except that nature was being cruel to women—but he and Silver were given a book that explained it. A big book. With pictures. Pictures Lilia made the mistake of looking at. He would not be doing that again. Ever.

“It’s definitely a shock,” Baul stated, taking a huge drink, a memory of a similar event aging him ten extra years for a moment. "Thankfully, my wife was still around then.” Lilia nodded, not having a response.

There were times when he thought having a female around would be better for Silver; however, with the way things were, that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. He wondered often if he was selfish for that.

‘Thank goodness for the Zigvolt family,’ Lilia thought, looking at his oldest friend, still alive.

After they visited the doctor, Lilia and Silver came here for help, as Lilia often did.

Once they explained things, Baul’s daughter mercifully took Silver to buy the things she would need while the bloody hell lasted. (Sebek wanted to go with, but was refused by every female present and dragged away by his older brother and father, who were explaining that men should stay out of certain things.)

Lilia heaved a heavy sigh.

“At least Silver’s not going to die.” Lilia leaned forward and rested his head on his folded arms, his body heavy with relief and his mind weighed by other things.

The fae was more than glad that Silver was going to be "okay,” but now he had another worry, one that carved an unfamiliar feeling into his chest.

His daughter, his sweet little girl, who was literally running through the wildflowers with her animal friend the other day, was now old enough by human standards to have a baby. She was still a baby herself, yet she was supposed to have one of her own?

Lilia sat up and stared at his drink as he swooshed the contents. He knew humans grew quicker than humans, but Silver was twelve. She only reached double digits two years ago, and now...

Would she be looking for a mate soon? If her body was literally craving children, then Silver would have to go find a husband to stop her from attacking itself every month. (Just thinking that line made Lilia grimace. “Perfectly natural,” his ass.)

Meanwhile, Lilia...

“General?” Baul’s concerned tone broke the fog in his mind. Lilia shook his head.

“I’m fine. It’s just... She’s really growing up, huh?” he said, his grin forced. Baul sighed in condolence.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It won’t be long before she’s married and having kids of her own.” Lila’s smile became brittle.

“You’re right…”

--

Aw, periods. Nature's way of saying, fuck you to the female body. But oof, poor Lilia, but especially Silver.

Fun fact: one of the reasons I gave Silver a mature female body was for a potential Lilia arc. See, Lilia doesn’t understand humans, so when he sees Silver looking like an adult, he treats her as such because he believes she’s fully grown (and she got her parts at 15).

This is one of the reasons why he wants to leave in Book 7. He believes that Silver’s supposed to find a mate, but he’s holding her back. (This is one of the reasons why he’s not super protective when it comes to boys. He believes she has to find one so her body won’t rip itself apart.)

He doesn’t understand that a) a period, while unpleasant, won’t kill her. And b) just because the parts are in doesn’t mean she’s grown up, and while she doesn’t need Lilia as much as she used to, she still needs him as she’s still growing. This causes problems later, as her emotional needs aren’t always met, and she doesn’t voice them because she doesn’t want to be a burden.

(Of course, this is all overthinking.)

[rickmymanrick]

rick’s POV(ch 6 | one rule)

here's a little look at what's going through rick's mind after the lori/shane bombshell. this should give more background to rick and daphne's 'relationship' before the fall.

also take it easy. this was written very quickly without much revision. just a fun little dive into rick's thought process during this scene

"Oh, really? Does a brother fuck your wife?"

I didn't understand what Daryl had said at first. The shock kept me rooted in my spot as he scoffed and then stormed off into the trees.

Does a brother fuck your wife?

A rage crept in as Shane began to shuffle uncomfortably, mere feet away from me. He wasn't even trying to deny it.

"She... Lori... she thought you were dead, man."

I suddenly knew this wasn't just sex. The first thing he'd done was defend her honor rather than his own. Was he in love with her?

My jaw clicked as I clenched my teeth together angrily. The betrayal was almost enough to blind me in rage. Our marriage was on the rocks for almost a year before my coma, but we were still married. Someone I'd trusted with everything knew the mother of my children intimately.

"Did you?" I bit out. After all, he was the one who had last seen me at the hospital.

"You heard 'em. I—I tried, Rick! I saw you every chance I got—"

His words flew into one ear and out the other. I couldn't think of anything but how much I wanted to knock his teeth out.

"—we were comforting each other the only way we knew how—"

Holding onto my sanity was surprisingly difficult. I always had a feeling Lori had her affections directed elsewhere. All our arguments and fighting, the things she'd say in front of Carl— the thought of infidelity wasn't out of reach. I'd even come to accept the possibility of it, because outside of my house, I wasn't doing much better. Could I even be upset with her? I never cheated on my wife, but my attention had been fixed on another for quite some time.

"I thought you were gone." It was the only thing I could manage to say, if I wasn't going to send my fist flying into his face, at the very least I could try to express the hurt. He needed to know that this broke everything we had.

"After I woke up in that hospital bed, when I saw what the world had become. The first thing I thought about was Carl and Lori. And then you. Our unit. For a moment, I thought you were all dead—" The words got stuck in my throat as I recalled the horrible thoughts that plagued my mind when I woke. How I mourned my best friend.

I could barely stand to look at his face. My eyes stung and I forced myself to look him squarely. He did this to me. He did.

"Our marriage... fell apart a long time ago," I shook his head and clenched my jaw. "But that doesn't make this okay."

He knew this already. Hell, if I recalled correctly, it was the grand topic of our final conversation before the world went to shit.

Shane was normally so outspoken, always had a goddamn thing to say. A quip. A disagreement. Always something.

But now he was deadly silent, guilt must be brewing in him. Good.

I was only able to push the murderous thoughts out of my mind when I remembered that my son was only alive because of him and Daphne. It was the only thing sparing him. From what? I wasn't too sure.

"I appreciate what you did. Saving 'em. I owe you everythin' but—" I forced through my teeth, digging my nails into my palms.

In this moment, I realized I couldn't confront Lori. I couldn't destroy whatever semblance of family we had left. It's a miracle we were still alive and that we found each other. That I found my boy.

We're still out in the woods, unprotected and exposed. Tomorrow was not promised. And until it was, until I could guarantee my family would live to see more sunrises, I couldn't destroy what they had built here. Otherwise, we would not survive.

"I get it, man. I'll go back to camp."

"Uh— yeah, yeah," I said dismissively. My anger could only hold off for so long.

As soon as he stomped away, I allowed myself to glance at his retreating back, confirming what I suspected since yesterday afternoon. The look on his face— the shock of seeing me— it wasn't happy. Maybe, just maybe, part of him wanted me gone for good.

The thought sent my fist barreling into the nearest tree trunk, a frustrated yell tried to escape but I kept my lips firmly shut. I didn't need Shane coming back, if he cared at all that is.

Somewhere in the jumbled thoughts that were fighting to make some sense of anything in my mind, I remembered the one thing that had brought me any type of comfort when Lori and I would argue. Which was practically everyday.

"How long you been there?" I asked softly. I knew she would hear me. I'd seen her brown eyes through the bush as Daryl led us farther from camp.

The branches rustled a bit.

"I was here first," her voice was defensive. I couldn't blame her. Witnessing what she just witnessed.

I tried to spot her curls through the bush but she seemed to have camouflaged herself within the leaves.

"You were. I saw you just before Daryl left."

And out she finally came, her cheeks flushed and her hair in a bit of a disarray, but the sight of her brought back memories from the station. At work, she usually had her hair pulled back, two curls framing her face while she sipped a steaming hot coffee. She was always there before me so I would choose the long way to my assigned desk, which was in a completely different wing, just to catch a glimpse at her. The sight of her was a breath of fresh air after rough nights of arguing with Lori. Daphne had an aura to her that made just about everyone gravitate to her. Bitterly, I also remembered that Shane tainted most of my memories of Daphne Ayala.

Always lingering around her desk, conveniently posed right in front of her whenever I would walk in. It wasn't odd for her to be busy with another officer, most of the department had a crush on her as grown as we all were. But Shane's appearances always seemed deliberate.

"I was picking berries. Found the patch a few weeks ago," she explained, showing me her pouch of fruit.

How odd it was to see her outside the precinct. Her hair was down, curls reaching her lower back as she brushed them away from her eyes. Eyes that weren't framed by her usual eyeliner style.

She looked so jarringly beautiful in a world so terribly gruesome.

I hoped my anger would mask how unsettled I was that we were actually speaking, after years of observing her from afar. Did she know I was as hopelessly attracted to her as nearly everyone else in the KCPD?

"I can leave you alone."

I realized with a jolt I've spent so much time staring that I'd forgotten to speak.

"I'll go back to camp—"

"No." I said more assertively than I meant to. I didn't want her to slip away again. She was always a mystery I wanted to solve but I forced myself to stay away. Despite the problems at home, I was still married. And now? Well, it was all in shambles.

"Oh, um, okay."

"Do you..." What am I trying to say? My mind went blank. But I looked at Daphne's eyes obscured by her curls and her work updo came to mind. And then her shadow, Shane. "Did you know?"

"No," she said looking rather uncomfortable.

"I keep wondering... if I have the right to even be upset. I wasn't a good husband to her, I know this, and you're the last person I should be telling this to but—" I cut myself short, the words slipping past my lips before I could think them through. I practically gave myself away and it was wishful thinking to hope that it had flown over her head. Daphne was a detective for crying out loud.

"It's fine. I know this can't be easy for you. To wake up to... this."

I scoffed. It wasn't easy to see the world flipped upside down sure, but the most selfless person was standing right in front of me. The one who had saved my family's lives at the risk of her own. She was keeping them and the rest of the camp alive. People she didn't even know.

"I woke up and the hardest part was done. Seeing the world change— changing with it— becoming the leader of a group you had no responsibilities or ties to. You, you did the hard part."

She seemed taken aback. "Oh— did Shane—?"

"Shane didn't hafta tell me nothin'. Lori and I talked last night. She told me everything that happened since the day I got shot." Saying their names left a bad taste in my mouth. "I guess I have a lot to be thankin' you for. You saved my family. That is something I will never be able to repay."

I placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have my gratitude."

"Carl's a great kid. And Lori's my friend. I would do it a million times over."

She's a goddamn angel. I studied her face in awe, something I'd never been able to do in the years I admired her from afar. There was just something about her.

Her nose crinkled awkwardly as her brown eyes struggled to look into mine. Her lips turned up into a tiny smile. I had to remind myself that I'm married and step away respectfully before it got weird.

I brought myself to the ground, legs feeling weak from everything I'd endured in the past 48 hours. Daphne sat next to me.

"What... what do I do?" I asked her quietly.

She's a detective. She's light years smarter than I'd ever be.

"You're asking me," she said carefully.

I shrugged and looked at our surroundings obnoxiously.

"I can't really tell you what to do, Rick."

I rolled my eyes as I thought of Shane's guilty expression. "What I really want to do is break his jaw in. Watch him choke on his teeth."

"He deserves it," she agreed with an irritated tone.

Now that I thought of it, I hadn't seen Shane and Daphne interact once. A stark contrast to his relentless pursuing day in and day out at work. Maybe they had a falling out.

I sighed. "I don't know how to go on. How to look him in the face. We were brothers," I got angrier as I went on. "He was my best friend. He knew."

"He knew?"

"He was the one person I confided in. I told him about Lori and I. I told him when things started going south. I never thought in a million years I'd have to worry."

"We never do. They fill our heads with all these stupid promises and reassurances just to stab you right in the back anyway," she said.

I would've paid more mind to her comment but I was too wrapped up imagining how Lori and Shane would sneak off. How she'd leave Carl alone with people she barely knew.

Carl.

He's wrapped up in the middle of this. I'm sure he noticed all the fights between us. Lori never bothered to keep our discussions private. But even if I entertained the thought of just destroying whatever was left of our marriage, I couldn't do it now. Not while he needed his parents more than ever.

"Carl... he's so young," I expressed. I felt guilty that I was rambling so that's all I said. I wasn't sure why I was telling her so much— I'm not a particularly open person— but it's easy to talk to her. Natural even.

"Rick, the world isn't the same anymore. It doesn't excuse Lori's actions or Shane's, but all of that doesn't matter so much when you're trying to keep yourself from getting eaten by dead cannibals. I can't tell you what to do but in the grand scheme of things, I think Carl will learn to understand."

She's right, I thought. But things were too unstable, we were living life one day to the next... it had to wait until we weren't constantly looking over our shoulders.

I stared at the blueberries, willing myself to think of anything else.

"I've been thinking about the man we left behind," was the first thing I could think of. The guilt kept me up half the night.

Daphne looked over at me with a shocked expression. "You can't be serious."

Her reaction made me frown. "It isn't right. Leaving him up there to die."

"He would do the same to any of us. You just escaped the city. Survived alone against all odds. You're willing to risk that for a douchebag like Merle?"

I was confused, more shocked than anything. It didn't sit right with me— it was practically murder. She must know this. Douchebag or not, it would stain us forever if we left the man to cook in the sun.

"This— what we have here— this is what we focus on. It's unfortunate but Merle dug his own grave. It isn't worth risking your life, Rick."

No, I wouldn't accept that. And I didn't think she could live with that either. My face twisted uncomfortably as I tried to rationalize. She's right that it would be putting my life on the line, but it would kill not only me, but her, if I don't go. All those years of watching from a distance, I knew she had a big heart.

Her callousness and the iciness in her tone was so different from her usual behavior. I didn't like it, but I could see she was looking out for me—

"MOM! DAD!"

The words disappeared from the tip of my tongue. We both shot up with only one thought in mind— Carl.

[wolven91]

The Predator Café - Chapter 7

(Trigger Warning: Violence, Injury)

Panic, rage, fear and white-hot fury swirled within Natasha's chest.

The outside world began to fade out until all that was within her sight was that remnant of clothing that was unmistakably her friend's as the edges of her vision became a black halo around this tenuous link to Pip.

She could hear naught but the roar of her heartbeat as she began to hyperventilate.

The next thing she was aware of was being inside the Café, standing in front of her boss. She watched herself as if from above near the ceiling; she demanded if he'd seen Pip enter, he was denying this and shaking his head. She could see herself asking if he was certain. The man confirmed that the smaller Prey entrance hadn't been opened since the lunch time rush.

She 'blinked' and was already halfway home in a full sprint.

Their voice, crystal clear, repeated in her head. '...your 'Prey' won't escape...'; her blood boiled and her jaw ached from clenching her teeth.

Bursting into her home she stalked from one dark room to the other, pacing in impotent rage and fear.

She stopped at the kitchen, the cold pasta still sat in a pot on the hob. Her mind cleared instantly; Pip was in danger and she had to protect him. She was getting him back, there was no doubt in her mind for a single second that she'd get him back or she'd pull their god-damned spines out.

She'd have to be smart about this.

The police were as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. If she rang them, they'd turn it into a hostage situation that would leave Pip in even greater danger. Her lawyer had even said that they'd never retrieved any of the previous victims alive...

“...fucking ghouls ate the evidence...” she realised with horror.

Her lawyer though? She was capable; she could call in the cavalry while Natasha bought them time on the inside. Natasha had never been one to sit on the sidelines when someone else was in trouble; especially one of her own. She'd learnt over a long childhood in the slums that sometimes one had to take things into their own hands; to stack the deck in their favour.

Their whispering came back to haunt her from the darkness that surrounded her; 'When you’re ready, go to the sub-station near the park. Knock once.'

“When I'm ready? Oh I'll get ready boys. I'll be good ‘n ready...”

===

Pip woke in a cloying darkness that made it hard to breathe.

When he did try to take a deep breath, pain lanced through his side causing him to flinch which only hurt the mammal further. He tried to remain still and take damp shallow gulps of air as he came to realise that he was contained within a sack of some kind.

He assumed he was on the floor as it was hard and cold beneath him. He thought it would be better for whoever had him to believe he was still unconscious so made a point to remain as still as possible while he tried to listen for voices or a clue as to what was around him.

Panic bubbled just below the surface, it threatened to rise up and drown him if not for the mantra that he repeated to himself that just had to keep calm and he would find an opportunity to escape. His entire childhood had been training him through established methods of how to keep safe in a world that wasn't a Prey's.

Many of them were pointless now; stay in lit areas, stay in communication with people, arm yourself. His best hope now was to find a chance to get distance between his captors and either hide where they couldn't reach him or out run them.

A nasally voice, moving closer to where he lay, broke the silence.

“Do we know if she's coming?”

A gruff voice replied a moment later.

“She'll be coming, sooner rather than later. I don't know much about these Humans but they don't look like the kind to give up on Prey.” A mirthless chuckle escaped the gruff voice. “If I haven't missed my mark, I'm willing to bet she'd chase this meat for forever.”

The nasally voice seemed unconvinced and to Pip struck him as a minion rather than a mastermind.

“Yeah, but what if.. what if she-”

“Shut up.” The gruff voice stated flatly.

“If she does anything stupid then we'll have to react to it. This may be your first time dealing with this, but this is how we recruited before. If these humans are what we think they are, it'll be easier to get them to join Predators like us than anyone else.”

“But boss, they aren't exactly discrete, she's taller than you even?”

Pip had used the term 'feral' before in jest or flippancy, but the growl that came from the gruff voice triggered a primitive part of his brain, it was a deep seated fear that ran through his body.

If he didn't get free, he was going to die.

His thoughts were interrupted by a third voice, this one came from further away as if they weren't in the same room as the other ones that had spoken so far.

“Hey boss! She's coming! She's.. got a pipe?”

“You two, go hide in the other room. You two with me, when she gets in, stand either side of her. I don't care what's she's armed herself with, if she fucks around we'll show her that we're the real Predators here, not this 'equals' nonsense...”

===

Natasha marched with confidence towards the substation that sat just outside the limits of a public park. It was a small structure, no larger than her front room and without a second floor she questioned whether it would be able to hold any more than the group of three that had told her about it in the first place.

There was something she didn't know. Either this wasn't their base or there was something she wasn't seeing yet.

It didn't matter; this was her single lifeline connecting her to Pip, there weren't any other options.

She had prepared herself as best she could, it had taken longer than she had wanted it to, but without a timeline she had hoped they had meant they'd keep Pip 'safe' until she could make it. Hey lawyer had assured her that she would inform the police, but begged her not to do anything rash.

Walking up to the substation door, she knocked a single time and stepped back away from it. A weird 'secret knock', but who in their right mind would knock on a door once? She shrugged to herself, it didn't matter; she just had to get inside.

The door unlocked from within as a bolt slid free.

“Come in, Sister.” A familiar voice said from the shadows, this was definitely the place. She steeled herself as she stepped into the 'lion's den'.

Inside a creature that resembled a Weasel hoped down off a crate that had served as its perch to look out of the small grime encrusted window. Normally Natasha would do her best to recall their correct designations and species names, but it didn't even register. She was appraising him; weighing him up as to how quickly he moved, how heavy he was, did he look like he could handle himself? Her time in the slums had given her enough experience to gauge how dangerous a person actually was.

This was a creature that looked like they used; speed, claws and teeth to win their fights. It gave her a toothy grin which faltered immediately as he noticed her expression and flinched from looking at her directly in the eye. He gestured lamely to the metal bat that she gripped in the middle with one hand while avoiding her gaze.

“You- you can't bring that in here... you can't be armed.”

“Ya’ think I'm gonna’ go into a room of Predators unarmed? Do ya’ think I'm stupid?” She snapped back at him, she'd expected to be challenged, but with just a bat she'd be able to talk her way through. Bluff that they wanted her here, not the other way round.

“But.. you..”

A voice called out from deeper within the structure, further away than what should be possible.

“Let her in, she's one of us...”

She gave the weasel a withering stare as she tapped the bat against her hip impatiently.

He ducked his head and retreated to the end of a grey electrical console. It dominated the single room that was the substation, but when he and Natasha rounded the far corner, a metal bulkhead jutting out of the ground was swung open presenting a ladder down into what Natasha assumed was the sewers.

This was not going to plan; she had no interest in going below ground, especially with what looked like a manhole cover that could be sealed closed between her and the rest of the world.

“Ya’ live in the sewers...?” She said disdainfully as she grabbed the ladder and began to descend before anyone could question her resolve. As she reached the bottom of the ladder, a serious voice, which gave her the impression of the ringleader, greeted her.

“Welcome sister. Yes, we may technically live in the sewers for now, it won't be long before we bring our vision of the galaxy to the wider city and world above. We and now you, are not alone with our desires-”

Natasha tuned him out as he continued to drone on, seemingly loving the sound of his own voice and getting high off his own horseshit. She noted that he was a Canid, black and brown colourings with a body that spoke of time at the gym, but he was small, shorter than normal canids. A runt? Either side of her sat two more, totalling four so far, one a felinoid that looked like she'd seen better days with the scraggly pelt of tawny fur and bald spots in her hide. Her partner on the other side of the room; a draconian, was thin with black for the majority of his scales but with blotches of deep red in a chaotic pattern across his visible flesh.

Natasha continued to observe the room as the ringleader went on about a 'new world order' by talking about how it was 'better in the old days'. She could sincerely feel her brain cells dying as he continued to regurgitate words that must've sounded impressive to him but imparted no actual meaning to anyone paying attention.

The room was a definitely part of the sewer system, but it appeared unused based off the floor and walls being clean of any sign of previous water or sewage, it was however, littered with the signs of usage by people; bottles and empty food packages lined the walls along with various boxes and half burnt candles scattered about haphazardly. The room itself was wide and open, the ceiling was however, almost too close for comfort to Natasha, but she gauged that she would be the tallest here by at least a head; only she would have to worry about hitting head against the humming strip lights. The end of the room, behind the ringleader's chair, had a divot in the floor for sluicing liquids away and a tunnel that cut across the room, leading deeper into the sewer system, it made the room into a 'T' shape, preventing Natasha from seeing around the corners into either direction of the tunnel.

She was in look, these lot looked like dregs, deformed and stunted. Was that their reasoning for eating people? They didn’t have the strengths of their brethren so they attacked anyone weaker?

The canid who was currently sitting at the opposite end of the room to the entrance ladder was occupying an aged leather chair that had somehow been brought down into the space. Saying that the only other visible seating in the room were several crates, it struck Natasha that this canid thought himself above those who followed him. The crates that served as seats were reinforced as such as they were each surrounded by empty bottles of beer or cans. What was interesting is that there were more available and visibly used seats than members present.

'Maybe 6 of them?' Natasha thought to herself as she realised the ringleader was winding his speech up as he was now standing with arms wide as if addressing a grand cheering crowd rather than skulking in the goddamned sewer.

Her bat 'tinked' against the cement floor as she dropped her grip from the middle of it, to the handle end and she flatly began.

“Wow...” struggling and failing to pretend any longer.

The sickly canid brought his gaze from the ceiling down to her, lowering his arms down to his sides lamely. Her lack of applause was disheartening to the man. He genuinely thought he'd improved his delivery of that speech.

“Jin, give us some privacy.” He shouted past her; the metal portal she had climbed through closed with a slam and grating lock.

'So much for their plan; my turn.' She smiled to herself, she hadn't been relying on any back up if she was honest with herself. It was always going to be her versus whatever unfortunately bastard that thought they could take her Pip.

“You fella’s took something from me. I want it back.” She demanded with a stony glare. The canid held his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Peace Sister, we only grabbed it so you could enjoy it without anyone suspecting you and so we could all meet. We're glad their meddling didn't get you arrested properly before you could enjoy its succulent flesh.”

The felinoid piped up in a tone that Natasha assumed she meant in a supporting manner. 

“It smells so sweet, I can understand why you chose it. I can't wait to sink my teeth into it properly...”

Natasha gripped the bat harder, her knuckles turning white.

“I will not 'share' Him in any way, shape or form. Not with y’all or anyone else, do ya’ understand me?”

The canid gave the human an award winning smile as he tried to reassure her.

“Oh you must understand, until we have enough to go around, we all must all share our prey. We each can support each other, we are a fami-”

“Show me him now.” Natasha cut off the canid. She needed to know he was alive. As long as he was alive she would help him live a life even if he wasn't whole.

“You're right, you're right! Of course, we've taken your food from your mouth and are trying to negotiate while you have no evidence we're sincere. Granc! Bring it out here now!”

From one of the blind-corner tunnels, another runt of a canid appeared with a lumpy sack in one hand. Like the felinoid, this one had mange and looked thin or sickly. He handed off the sack to the ringleader who reached in the bag.

A heartbreaking squeak came from within as he grasped and pulled Pip out in one harsh movement. Natasha's ache from her jaw came back, she could feel her bottom left eyelid begin to twitch with the effort of keeping her face neutral.

Pip looked scared and hurt. The Canid held him by the back of his neck, Pip had grabbed the larger creature's fingers in an attempt to ease the pressure on his body. He had dried blood over his face and he wasn't breathing correctly, as if he couldn't draw in a full breath. His fur was bedraggled and damp, he looked awful, but he was alive and awake; that was enough for Natasha. As he blinked in the sudden change of light, his eyes focused on Natasha and his face showed shock, surprise and fear.

Whether fear for himself, fear 'for' her or fear 'of' her, Natasha couldn't tell.

It didn't matter, he was alive and she was keeping it that way.

“Hand him over.” She demanded again.

“No, we've been more than welcoming to you and we've only received hostility in return. It's time you decide to join us or not.”

“As I said before; He. Is. Mine. I will not be sharing him with anyone, let alone pretend Predators such as y’all.”

This got a reaction from them, the two who had been sat either side of Natasha stood and came closer to her, well within range.

Good. Get cocky, get in close.

“Pretenders?!” The ringleader said incredulously.

“Oh, ya’ disagree? Ya’ll not predators, none of ya’ are! And yet ya’ think ya’ll good enough to take what's mine?! Ya’ bottom feeders! Ya’ll haven’t brought down anything that could actually give ya’ a run for ya’ money. At best, ya’ll opportunistic scavengers and ya’ done fucked with the wrong human.”

As the canid breathed in to retort, Natasha didn't wait to hear any more drivel from him.

She grasped the opposite end of her bat in her spare hand and drove the handle into the ribs of the black and red draconian as hard as she could, utilising her whole body to add force into the jab. The dull 'crack' echoed through the room from the bipedal lizard’s torso as he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. She let go of the business end of the bat to swing it in a full circuit, so the felinoid received the full brunt of force that swept the bat from down by her feet right up and into her jaw. Her head snapped backwards in a whiplash inducing motion before falling away and clutching at her face, the scream that came from it was more raw emotion than anything coherent.

At a glance the draconian had fared little better as he remained on the floor trying and failing to gulp air that simply wouldn't come.

The spare runt canid came from the front as he grabbed at the bat with both hands, Natasha was pushed back a moment before moving her arms in a violent jerking motion to push the bat squarely into his snarl, breaking his front teeth. He was stunned for a moment allowing Natasha to follow up with a second strike with the middle of the bat with little resistance. The front of his muzzle crumpled slightly as the majority of his front teeth disappeared when they broke in half and blood burst from the ends of his nostrils.

As she pulled the bat clear of his hands, she swung the handle to hit him in the face in a short pivot, it was then that Natasha was blind sided as she was tackled to the floor by a green blur. 

The green blur slashed at her face where her cheek immediately began to burn and ache. The new geckin, previously hidden around the other blind corner, reared back, jaws agape to clamp down on her exposed neck. He was small, but still sharp. As he lunged downwards, the act was arrested by the spiked choker she had donned before her arriving at the substation, preventing him from being able to close his jaws around her throat completely.

Normally she would only wear the spiked collar when going to a concert or other event where she could dress as dramatically as she liked, but she had feared that without something to defend her neck and wrists, she may have been vulnerable to this exact attack. The 'camo' geckin tried to close his teeth around her and pull, but the metal and leather left his attack ineffective and more damaging to himself than Natasha.

As he straddled her, she drove a knee up into his crotch as hard as she could before grabbing the creature and rolling to the side, dragging him beneath her in a reversal. She proceeded to pound into his face with both of her fists; her adrenaline allowing her to wail away into his jaw, cheeks and eye sockets. It wasn't until a kick to her ribs from a new assailant, forced her to roll away with a wince into a low crouch and her fists raised to defend herself.

The Ringleader stalked around his fallen compatriots, the geckin wasn’t moving.

“You idiot! Do you not understand?! We're the only ones in this city that appreciate your desire! You're denying yourself it's flesh!”

Natasha was beyond words at this point, her rage fuelled her onwards; the slight movements of her Pip in the corner of her vision willed her to tear this dog’s head off. 

She reached back to retrieve her 'back-up plans' from her back pockets. Slipping the pair 4-ringed brass knuckles over each of her own she stalked forwards towards the enraged alien.

The wild haymaker he threw out was easily redirected; it was trying to disembowel her, but Natasha gave back a quick jab into his chest rather than a grander response. He was shorter than the average canid by a significant margin, but no less dangerous, to underestimate him would be to defeat herself. He took a step back before pushing forward again, he then threw out a series of clawed slashes that did no more than bounce off Natasha's guard as she allowed his assault uninterrupted. The spiked bracelets that donned her wrists, jabbed and gouged at his own forearms weakening his attack as he could simply flail at her. His assault was feral; strong and violent, but without finesse. He’d been used to being the larger one in past conflicts, his self-assurance was evident in his lack of form or skill.

Her initial plan was to allow him to punch himself out, with his inability to end the fight by numbers or taking advantage of an exposed neck, he could only batter himself against her stalwart defence. He had a moment of inspiration however by throwing out a punch into Natasha’s gut slipping through her guard. She doubled over in a moment before twisting at the hip and using her elbow to slam into the canid’s face. He flinched and stepped backwards blinking away stars as his sensitive muzzle burst in a small geyser of blood.

Natasha’s ‘rope-a-dope’ plan was thrown into disarray however when, as the two circled each other, Pip appeared from behind the Ringleader and drove a screwdriver into the flesh of his calf with a rebel yell. Crying out and collapsing to one knee the canid successfully aimed a sweeping backhand that launched Pip deeper into the room away from the brawl.

Natasha saw red at Pip being struck; defence gave way to pure, livid hatred.

Before the canid could prepare himself, he was attacked by a true ‘Predator', one that dredged an icy dread from deep within him; a feeling he was not aware that he could ever experience, one of a Prey.

The metal covered knuckled came up in a south-paw upper punch that snapped his jaw closed and put the former Predator on his back. Natasha pounced upon him to batter solely into his head and whilst the sieged creature attempted to bring his arms up to defend himself, Natasha simply pulled his arm out of the way to land an uninterrupted hit square into whatever was in the way between her and the floor.

This continued for a time, a cathartic, raged filled therapy for Natasha as she paid him back for the upset and harm he had caused for both the Human and her Pip.

It was only when the creature had stopped moving that the drive to hit it drained from Natasha and a sudden overwhelming need to find and protect Pip returned.

Natasha got off the still breathing but bloodied meat that now laid thoroughly tenderised and scrambled over on all fours to the caramel furred mammal that remained still in a heap. She gingerly picked him up; he was still breathing but limp in her arms. She rushed over to the ladder out and turned the handle that would open the hatch once more, it had been locked from the inside.

When she unlocked it fully, the hatch was opened immediately by the collection of law enforcement officers that had crowded around the entrance to the subterranean lair. They however flinched back at the sight of the haggard and still enraged Human crawling from the depth with her face covered in blood. Whether this was her’s, Pip's or anyone else's, none of them knew, but they retreated to allow her to pass and leave the substation. The officers then climbed down the ladder to arrest the occupants within, they had heard the violence from within and expected the worst. Aside from a variety of heavily injured occupants, they were all still alive, albeit some only just.

===

 As Pip came back to the waking world, his environment had changed significantly for the better.

Beneath him was a soft mattress that supported his body gently, while the bed itself had his upper half slightly raised. The pillows beneath his neck and head were softer than his own back at his dorm, he thought mildly as he opened his eyes and began to blink the burring away.

Before his vision returned he felt a weight over his shins, heavier than the thin sheet that covered the majority of his body. Hovering over him was a fellow Prey dressed in the uniform of a nurse. Her whiskers twitched as she smirked down at him as she adjusted a bag with clear liquid inside that was connected to his arm via a tube.

“Welcome back Mr Warin, so you are aware; you've been asleep for the best part of two days, but should make a full recovery shortly.”

He blinked and croaked in response from his incredibly dry throat. He tried to swallow to refresh himself as the nurse, satisfied with her work, walked around the bottom of the bed where he suddenly noticed the form of Natasha.

The medical ward he was in was obviously designed for creatures smaller than Natasha; the items, fixtures and beds were all a more ‘normal’ size to Pip’s perspective. However, even slouched as she was, Natasha took up an alarming amount of space, practically overtaking the bottom of his bed where the top half of her slept.

‘She must be sat on the floor while hunched over the bed’ Pip thought to himself.

“We moved the other patients once she refused to leave. The others were distressed despite it being on the news.”

“She refused… What... what was on the news?”

“Her rescue of you Mr Warin? Whatever the misunderstanding was the day before, word is she single handedly removed the beginning of another feral Predator ring. The reporters had followed the parade of police and reported it live. When she appeared like an angel of death, but carrying you; people didn’t know what to think.” The nurse shook her head.

“Tokens of praise and apology have been arriving whilst you’ve both been here. They are starting to take up too much room. I would have raised a complaint if not for the fact that everyone is still hesitant to stay in a room with a human…” The nurse continued, gesturing towards the entrance to the room where a pile of gifts, flowers and tokens of various sizes had overtaken one wall.

“Now you’re awake, I doubt there will be any need for you to stay much longer. You were suffering more from sleep deprivation rather than anything physically wrong, aside from some nasty bumps. We have however stitched up the claw marks on your back, although it is likely they will scar, and your fur may not return.”

Pip thanked the nurse before she retreated from the room to follow up on her other patients. Looking down at the blonde beauty, he recalled what he had seen down in the sewers.

He had described her before as a force of nature, when he had laid on top of her chest and listened to her heartbeat. Now he knew this description was too understated. She had been truly terrifying, her speed went beyond what was right for a creature at her size to be able to move.

He had felt the impacts of her hits, the reverberations of the strikes had made him wince with each blow. When she had been taken to the floor and the Saurian that had been hidden away tore at her neck, Pip had feared the worst.

But nothing could stop her, she was a tidal wave of anger, of something primal... feral, even...

Pip winced at his own thought, that he'd put her in the same category as those brutes.

Placing a small hand into her hair he stroked it through the silken mess. She looked tired, the three gouges in her cheek looked deep and were held closed by white stitches. If he had scars on his back, those would absolutely scar and all because he got into a mess he should have avoided.

His heart broke at the idea he had led her to harm.

A wordless groan of being pulled from sleep escaped her throat.

"Morning beautiful..." Pip whispered.

"Pip? Pip!" She exclaimed, waking up fully and rocking the bed in her attempt to straighten up.

"Ya’ awake! Oh I'm so sorry Pip! It's all my fault, if I'd just left ya’ alone ya’ wouldn't have been taken or threatened and everyone-"

The cascade of apologies and worry that spilled forth surprised him, he was expecting to be the one that was to apologise not for his saviour to best him to the punch, so to speak.

"...Natasha." He said simply, stalling her mid-sentence. 

"Sorry." She said meekly.

It didn't suit her. 

Pip hated the idea of her not being herself, but he wanted her to say her piece, it was important to her so it was important to him.

"I don’t believe there's anything for you to apologise for, but if you disagree, I accept your apology and want nothing more than to hear nothing else on the matter..."

Her shoulders slumped, as if he had single handedly removed the weight of the world off her shoulders.

“...its me who should be apologising."

"No, thats not-"

"Let me finish... please." He quietly begged.

She fell silent and waited for him.

"I knew better, you didn't." He began with a sigh. "There are... expectations of what is ‘normal’ of you and me, of a Predator and a Prey. But you weren't aware of these and shouldn't be and won’t be held accountable for them. I was, and I deliberately ignored them so I could selfishly spend time with someone I found exciting... Even when I knew and was duly warned, that it would all end in tears.”

He closed his eyes in confused shame.

"I came back and encouraged you because I found you attractive Natasha, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, even though I knew it was more than likely that nothing good could have come from us spending time with each other. This whole mess is because I didn’t do what I was supposed to…” He couldn’t look at her right now, he had to tell her the truth, to make her understand that she was free from blame, and he wouldn’t hold anything against her when she defended her social standing by leaving him behind. Especially after he had intentionally undermined hers for his lust.

Humans were new to the whole mess; how could anyone blame them? Not him, he would never blame her.

“What a crock.” Natasha stated flatly, Pip snapped his head up in confusion. “Do I not get a say? Ya’ think I didn’t know what people might say when we waltzed off together? Don’t be making assumptions that I’m jus’ some wallflower who ain’t gonna’ say nothin’. Ya’ people got some ‘expectations’, just like everybody else in this universe. Ya’ think I haven’t had to clash with ‘expectations’ before?”

She ‘huffed’ and shuffled closer to the top of the bed before reaching out a hand to hold his chin between her large fingers.

“If I didn’t want to see ya’, I wouldn’t see ya’. If ya’ want to see me, I want ya’ to come see me. And there ain’t nothing anyone else is gonna’ say or do that’s gonna’ change this.”

She released him after making her point and looked away.

“…’Expectations’ my ass. Thought I got away from all that nonsense...” She mumbled to the empty ward.

“So… we’re, okay?” Pip asked, he was stunned she would not only disregard any issue but made him feel slightly put out for attempting to assume the responsibility over the matter.

“I’m frustrated Hun’, but all this has done is tell me that I need to get ya’ home and teach you properly; just how much ya’ mean to me, ya’ daft thing.” She said with a smile as she gazed back to him, putting an elbow on his bed whilst resting her chin in her hand. Her other hand came round and gently ran over his body over the thin covers.

“I think we need to start addressing things directly, no more beatin’ round the bush. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” Squeaked Pip.

She leaned forwards, her face now dominated his vision. The soft closing of her eyes prompted Pip to do the same as his arms reached up to cup her face as her fingers curled around the back of his head with her nails scratching through his fur. Her lips touched his and whilst her bottom lip gently pressed against his own, her top lip brushed and pressed against his nose due to the difference in their sizes.

His world was one of softness and peppermint. This is what ‘heaven’ had to be like.

===

The journey back to his dorm was uneventful, but while he packed a bag for a stay away at Natasha’s Geegee was beside himself at the idea that Pip ‘hadn’t learnt his lesson’. Pip rolled his eyes and ignored him.

He understood his opinion, it took a verbal slap from Natasha for Pip to also give up on the social contract himself, he’d just wait for the geckin to come round and begin talking to Pip again. He vowed to be there for him when or if he did.

Once they got back to Natasha’s, Pip’s things were placed on the desk while Natasha whisked him off his feet and landed on the bed; laying on top of him and assaulting him again with wet kisses, some pecks and others lingered. He returned the favour; Natasha could feel the small wet pecks across her skin as he tried to match her ferocity.

“Hun’, I hope ya’ ready; because I’ve been waiting to eat ya’ up whole since ya’ walked into my Café.”

[hungerpunch]

okay actually. i am maybe going to cry lol. here is a non-exhaustive list of the medical professionals i have seen since i was in seventh grade:

too many internists (as primary care/general practice) to actually count. well over a dozen.

two neurologists

one spine specialist

seven physical therapists

two chiropractors

four massage therapists

three dentists

one oral surgeon

i have had many MRIs and x-rays. i have had a lot of blood taken. i have taken rounds of steroids and muscle relaxers for pain/symptom management. there have been times i could not turn my head to one side for months at a time. i have scoliosis, which wasn't figured out until the fifth or so physical therapist, even though previous chiropractors had taken x-rays of my spine.

here is a non-exhaustive list of reasons why i sought such intensive care:

debilitating migraines

severe back pain

severe neck pain

bad pain flares in my back teeth during times of stress

ear aches

here is a non-exhaustive list of things i have been told about myself by these professionals:

the enamel on my teeth was worn off and had to be artificially reapplied "because" i "brushed my teeth too aggressively."

that the reason my ears hurt was "because" i "cleaned them too aggressively" and there was no protective ear wax left.

that the lowest three discs in my spine were degenerating.

that i was grinding my teeth in my sleep.

that i was hyper-tensing in my sleep and that i should "take xanax daily & nightly to make it stop."

that i had scoliosis. (this one is 100% confirmed)

that i needed therapy to become less stressed so my muscles would relax.

that i needed massage therapy and other various treatments to address how tight all my fascia was in certain parts of my body.

that i should try mouth guards because the teeth grinding had started to do real damage.

that i should enter a sleep study for how intense and chronic my insomnia was.

that the pain in my hands/tingling in my fingers was because my wrists were too weak.

that there was "something evil stored" in my neck

and then. an anon yesterday asked if i had tmj. and i said probably not. and then @chronodyne slid me a message that said "re: tmj, mine is myofascial and i also don’t have the clicking/trouble opening my mouth."

so i did some reading.

starting with myofascial tmj got me here (cedars-sinai.org)

i paused to look up bruxism, which turns out to be the medical term for grinding/clenching your fucking teeth:

highlights are things i have experienced and sought or had medical attention for (dull headaches are not highlighted because i have only ever sought medical attention for migraines, though i certainly have dull headaches all the time).

okay. so i know i clench my jaw/grind my teeth in the daytime. and a dentist has told me before that it's evident i do it in my sleep, too. just the other day i woke up with a ravaged inside right cheek from chewing it in my sleep. so i can safely self-diagnose bruxism.

back to tmd.

highlights are symptoms i have experienced. i did not highlight teeth sensitivity because i would classify it as pain instead. but you don't understand the howl i let out internally when i read the ringing in the ears and numbness/tingling feeling in your fingers bullet points. i have been operating under the assumption that i have tinnitus and probably a very scary autoimmune disorder that i just am better off ignoring (this is not medical advice, it's avoidance). i'm not saying i don't have those things, but i also never knew there were other possibilities.

over the course of my life i have had many injuries to my neck and actually i have also had a pretty severe concussion before, which i would classify as a head injury. i have many of the symptoms listed for tmd. i have even undergone, incongruously, many of the treatments for it. so many doctors have noted and attempted to address issues with my fascia, with my muscles, with my tension.

it raising its ugly head when i'm stressed makes sense i literally said in my post yesterday DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ANYONE WHEN THEIR BLOOD PRESSURE RAISES LOL SOB

i cannot conclusively diagnose myself with tmd or, for that matter, with mps (myofasical pain syndrome, which i had also never heard of!). but i am so, so frustrated because i have never even heard these words. i have never been screened for these things. no medical professional has ever discussed these possibilities with me, even when they're treating me for several of the symptoms!

i'm crying for all the tests i've undergone that led to nothing. always, infuriatingly, labeled a medical mystery. for the rounds of steroids and muscle relaxers i've been prescribed. for the painful manual manipulations i've been subjected to. for every single person who ever touched my body commenting on how tight/tense my neck is. for the addiction that stemmed from that first xanax prescription when i was 15 that caused so much fucking grief in my life. for the chronic pain that has swallowed whole decades of my life and sapped my energy since i was a child.

none of these symptoms were ever NOT disclosed to a medical professional. at each one, i did the immense labor of dragging out my entire, perplexing medical history, including injuries and past issues and treatments. but nobody ever thought to consider this? nobody, with all those degrees, with those long careers, with all those patients, ever thought to consider this? while i was in all those paper gowns, on all those cold tables, getting poked and prodded, crying, paying for tests i could not afford, so sleep deprived i thought i'd die at 25, nobody considered this?

anyway @chronodyne suggested seeing an oral surgeon to discuss this so. i guess that's what i'm looking up next.

[ginkashino]

I realised something today.

Im not in danger or a danger to myself in any way. Mentioning that because of the content warning.

CW for mentions of domestic abuse

I havent been able to eat properly since days ago. I try to down as much food as i can, though its mostly liquids, protein shakes and such. Today I woke up shaking, i couldnt stand to be in the kitchen, no matter how much i sleep i wake up tired.

Anemia? i thought. Ive been anemic before and it didnt feel like this, though. Maybe it felt different because im older now. Something just felt off. A stomach infection? but nothing else hurt...dehydration? maybe I was reacting weirdly to my new meds...

I wanted to go talk to a friend and i almost decided against it, i didnt want to worry him. I looked at myself in the mirror and looked so pale. This past 2 weeks i lost almost 3 kilos.

At the end I decided to go get a subway and as my friend was nearby, i went to talk with him for a bit. We were talking and suddenly i realised that i was hungry. Very, very hungry. I wasnt even nauseous anymore, nor was I shaking. In the reflection of the fridge i looked normal, other than mildly tired.

Maybe i just needed to have a laugh. Was it just loneliness? i assumed I felt guilty about no longer having the job because then he can't eat calmly (which i am) but the point of not being able to eat? it didnt sound like me.

I get home, put my subway on the table, and i feel like crying. I also can't even take a bite, its like i swallowed rocks. My arms keep shaking. So then it hit me

Its my house. I can't eat if im here, i can barely breathe. Even without my mother here i can't stand it, the fear of getting hit remains. If im outside im fine, i was talking perfectly fine, i was walking around the store and now at home i felt like my knees wanted to give up on me.

My jaw hurts from how much i clench my teeth.

I need to leave. I need a job that pays enough to pay rent, or if i work enough, to pay a mortgage. Shit, if its cheaper i'll get a car and live there. I would need a driver's licence but that shouldnt be hard.

i used to hide underneath the table my PC is on when my mother got aggresive. She's never hit me, just threw stuff and yelled and threatened to harm herself. To not eat, to not sleep, to quit her job if i didnt obey. Im tired, im scared, im starting to get really sick. theres only so much stress a single person can take.

meanwhile i can eat outside and problem solved, but thats not a permanent solution. I'm getting out of here.

[painfulrant]

Ethan x M/C - Comfort/Nightmares

It was a usual day at the school with the group. Everyone throwing suspicion my way for absolutely no reason. The sun rising casted beautiful orange rays that filled my chest with hope for the better.

Maybe hope is something you have to make for yourself?

His words were strong and clear in my mind, calming my racing heart. I haven't been sleeping much lately... The things lurking in the dark terrorize my dreams and drag me down so far, I sometimes fear I'll never make it back to the land of the living. If Judy wasn't acting so weird, I would ask her for her Judy special services.

She's hiding something from me. She avoids me during the days now, only returning to my room once I've fallen asleep, sometimes not at all. She'll talk to me but not like before... She has dark purple bags under her eyes making me wonder if she's also having nightmares or if it's from her sneaking around so much. If it was a boy, surely, she would tell me. Maybe she just suspects me like everyone else does. Scarlett hasn't exactly let up with all her bs.

The classroom doors slid open and one set of pitter-pattering footsteps fell still. I don't have the energy to look back, so I just rested my head against the window and watched the deserted city below get drowned in beautiful rays of color from the sky and water. There were very few, if any animals left but I know of at least four animals that have made it this far.

"Why're you awake so early?" Judy's cheerful voice didn't sound so cheerful but rather nervous. Is she truly scared of me? I haven't done anything to anyone here. Honestly, I could ask the same of her, but my head was pounding, and my vision was matching the beat of my heart. I just shrugged, knowing she'll drop it. The new version of her will anyways... The old her would be persistent and stubborn. She'd pull it out through my teeth. But Judy hasn't been the same in a couple of weeks.

The sound of the door sliding open once again made me clench my jaw in frustration. I was hoping for a few more hours of silence before others woke up and I was to be out casted from the peaceful classroom. Let Judy keep her secrets... I've tried enough already, and she's said some pretty hurtful things. Mostly everyone has.

That though brought tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them drop, listening for who the new person was. Between the nightmares and the bullying, I had no energy for anyone anymore. Zion and Ethan both seemed have to realized just that too which was strange. Ethan, the man who speaks little but speaks wisely and Zion the sarcastic cocky man who gets mad when I cry.

"Y/n, what're you doing up so early? You have night shift tonight." That was Lawrence who sounded kind and gentle as always but also like a mother scolded her child. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, biting my tongue to stop my attitude dripping out.

"Can't sleep." It was quiet for a second before Lawrence voice sounded.

"Oh. Well -" He was cut off by Judy, drawing my attention. She never does that... When I opened my eyes and turned to look at her, she had blood pouring from her eyes, nose, and mouth as well as her right arm missing. I gasped, standing up and stepping closer to the window and farther away from her. She just smiled, her teeth glistening red with blood that continued to drool from her mouth.

This is a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Tears were once again prickling my eyes, but it was clear enough to see Lawrence standing in the far corner, hidden by the shadows with glowing red eyes. He looked to be holding something in his hand and at a closer look, it was Judy's arm.

"No. No! This isn't real. You guys aren't real, I-" I gasped, pushing myself up against the window.

The door slid open once again and this time Ethan and Zion stepped through. Zion had blue, red, and purple bites littering his body while Ethan had foggy eyes and pale blue skin with his veins showing.

"Y/n... Step down from the window." Judy's sinister voice echoed around the room while the sky outside turned a deep scarlet shade of red.

I just stared at all of them, tears now freely streaming down my face.

"It's time to wake up." A voice behind me whispered, arms wrapping around my body. These arms were cold, and I couldn't help screaming when they drug me out the window.

I jerked forward, screaming with tears flowing like a stream off a mountain. Warm hands were gently grabbing my own and when I looked up, I saw a normal Eugene staring worriedly from the back of the classroom, Ethan in front of me with worried eyes but a blank face, and Zion behind Ethan with curious expression. Judy and Lawerence were nowhere to be found.

When I turned back to check if the sky was still red, I found the normal orange rays of the sunrise. The window where I stood, was open, my body literally an inch from dropping to my death. I gasped and stepped forward toward Ethan who quickly wrapped his arms around me. I almost died... My dream almost killed me. When did I even fall asleep.

I laid my head against Ethan's shoulder while he set his head on top of mine, his touch reassuring me that I wasn't dreaming, and he wasn't dead. None of them were. The shock stopped the tears from flowing, my heart rapidly beating.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, the pulsing vision and headache returning 10x worse than it had been before I fell asleep. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. I could fell his heart beating just as hard and fast as mine.

"We heard you scream while we were patrolling." Eugene spoke up, walking forward to close and lock the window behind us.

"You sounded like a zombie was tearing into you." There was no sarcasm or a hint of amusement in Zions voice. I must have really scared them.

"Come on." Ethan muttered, gently leading me from the classroom, the shock warrying off. My body trembled but there were still no tears. I'm too tired to cry.

When Ethan led me to his room, I looked to him with confusion.

"Sleep. You need it." He moved his blanket back, getting a spot ready for me. I felt bad and I think he knew because he looked up and shook his head.

"It's not your fault." With those final words, I walked forward to lay down. As soon as I did, he started to stand. I don't want him to leave... I need him here.

Quickly grabbing his hoodie sleeve, I looked up with scared eyes.

"Please don't leave me." I whispered, voice trembling with exhaustion but also fear. His eyes searched mine before he nodded and sat beside me. He let me lay my head against his shoulder and soon, everything grew dark. His heartbeat soothed my own heart and for once in a couple of weeks, I slept peacefully knowing he was beside me and with me to protect me.

"I promise to always protect you. I'm not leaving you."

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Solarpunk … orthodontics?

My jaw hurts.

It’s hurt for decades; I started clenching it at night when I was asleep when I was a preteen. This coincided with several factors, none of which I think are wholly the source but were probably contributors to the issue: we had just moved cities and I was under a ton of stress moving to a new neighbourhood and starting at a new school for the first time, I had just begun an orthodontics saga of many years which started with wearing headgear to forcibly shove my upper back molars further back into my skull in order to make room for the rest of my upper teeth to move backwards (with the eventual help of braces) to correct an overbite that was starting to affect my bite, and that I was an extremely anxious eldest child. Looking back, it’s clear I was on the spectrum and had a diagnosable anxiety disorder. But discovering that would be much further in the future.

All I knew at the time was that my jaw hurt. I told my dentist and orthodontist and they recommended I sleep on my back, so that I would have less chance of clenching. I did this, and still to this day must choose: do I sleep clenching my jaw, or with my mouth wide open? I have a choice between a) painful muscles or b) terrible breath in the morning + slowly yellowing teeth. Hoorah. I wasn’t given any other advice.

It is at this point that I would have liked any of the professionals involved in the process to have talked to me about the ramifications of seriously and irrevocably altering the shape of my jaw on the surrounding musculature but frankly, I’m not sure they were trained to do that. And by “that” I mean talking to children, communicating professional knowledge to a lay audience, and knowing about the muscles of the face all at the same time.

I would hope that in a future solarpunk society, there would be people with those skillsets employed by health professionals to communicate and emphasize a more holistic look at healthcare - in a way that meets people where they’re at. I was thirteen; I wasn’t ready to hear or understand even the little that dentists would tell me now in my late thirties. I needed someone skilled to discuss this with me. The braces and headgear needed to happen: my bite was getting painful, my overbite was growing so extreme. But even a knowledge of the side effects would have been empowering to me, as a child. I had very little say in any of this process, though I got to pick the colour of the elastics around my braces, yay.

My jaw still hurt.

In the early days of 2012, I woke up one morning and couldn’t chew my food without pain: not even soft foods such as pancakes were safe. I made an emergency appointment with my dentist at the time, who quickly assessed the issue and whipped up a mouthguard for me. I didn’t have insurance at the time (having aged out of my parents’ coverage, and none afforded by my college), and the dentist was sensitive to that, and gave me a discount. Bless him; I’m sure he’s long retired, but I hope that if that little family dentist office off the Danforth in Toronto is still in operation, that it’s seeing some good years.

Wearing a mouthguard every single night to bed wasn’t foreign to me, because I’d worn the retainer I was given after my braces came off religiously for many years until about two years before this. I still wear a retainer to this day: it not only makes it so that I am not clenching quite as hard, but it saves my teeth from the bone-cracking pressure. (I was informed by my current dentist that clenching my teeth is a major contributor to my receding gums, which is a current dental issue I have, yay again.)

My jaw still hurts now, though.

In that future solarpunk world, I’m sure young people wouldn’t wake up with debilitating pain in their jaw and be forced to think above all else about how this is a financial setback. In a future solarpunk world, I would hope that insurance coverage would be a thing of the past, as it would be unnecessary. I don’t know how the details of that would work out. I just know it would save so many young people from worsening the anxiety that was already so bad that it led to jaw pain.

When I moved to a new city and saw a new chiropractor, he would help me to mobilize and relieve the tension somewhat in those muscles at the end of each appointment. It helped, somewhat, especially to mitigate the damage caused by the stress of graduate school - and then a car accident, and then COVID.

I was finally diagnosed with an anxiety disorder several years ago, and though I’m mitigating it to my best abilities, I haven’t stopped clenching my jaw while I sleep, or during the day subconsciously. I’m still searching for some sort of relief other than constantly wearing my nightguard, which is just an automatic thing that I do after brushing my teeth every night. (I don’t think that this sort of wearable tech makes me a cyborg, just a boring responsible person.)

In a solarpunk world, many people are going to need dental surgery. Many people are going to need orthodontic interventions. It’s just a fact. But what can we do now to make sure that the dentists and orthodontists of the future actually work to make their patients’ lives better, not just their teeth?

This is my two cents’ worth. What do you think?

PS: I should mention that though I live in Canada, dental is not covered by our (ailing, politically besieged) social healthcare system.

[golden-kingdom]

Favorite Crime - Chapter 3

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Violence

Author’s note: I'm starting school again tomorrow so the next update might take a while. We'll see how it goes. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

When Rowan woke up, the first thing he noticed was the thrumming of his head. He tried to clear his brain and recall what happened, but all he could remember was a sharp pain in his neck and a dark silhouette behind him. Then nothing. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was in an abandoned building, the place empty and illuminated only by the moon. He tried to get up from the chair he was sitting on, but he realized his feet and hands had been tied up. He pulled on the rope wrapped tightly around his hands, trying to free himself, but it didn’t budge. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

He heard light footsteps coming his way and a person dressed in black from head to toe stopped in front of him. The light of the moon lit up their hidden face. They were wearing a hood and he could only make out amused turquoise eyes. Rowan tried to set himself free, using all his strength, and a feminine laugh echoed off the walls.

“Well, there’s no need to leave so fast, agent Whitethorn. You just arrived.”

That voice. He had heard it before, but he couldn’t figure out when.

“This isn’t how I imagined our first meeting would go. I’m usually more into candlelit dinners, you know. But I guess this will have to do. I hope you’re into bondage.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Rowan asked, tired of playing this game.

“How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself. Celaena Sardothien, pleased to finally meet you.”

“Sardothien” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I just wanted to have a little one-on-one chat,” she reassured him.

“If you really wanted to see me, you could’ve just come to my office. No need for all the theatrics,” he replied dryly.

“Ah, but see, that’s the thing. I didn’t want your colleagues interrupting us. And this is much more fun.”

He couldn’t see her mouth, but he knew she was smiling.

“What did you do to Cortland?” he asked her, hoping to get something out of her.

“Ah Sam. Poor Sam, he really was a good kid. I liked him,” she said as if she cared about anyone other than herself. “It’s a pity he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was becoming dangerous.”

“Is he dead? Did you kill him?” he pressed on.

“Is Sam dead? Good question. I don’t seem to remember,” Celaena said, pondering the question like if it was a riddle.

“But don’t worry, agent Whitethorn,” she added after a few seconds. “If he’s dead, he didn’t suffer. I’m not cruel.”

Rowan trashed in his chair, livid, which only amused her.

“You’re a sadistic psychopath who only cares about herself,” he spewed out, clenching his jaw.

“Is that really what you think of me? I’m wounded, agent Whitethorn,” Celaena replied, fake offended. 

“What about Lillian? Did you hurt her too?” he inquired.

“Who?” Celaena asked, feigning confusion.

“The nurse who was with Cortland at the hospital when he disappeared.”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” she insisted. 

“I swear if you hurt her, I will kill you,” Rowan spit out in a threatening voice.

Celaena looked at him, her eyes glinting, as if she knew something he didn’t. It infuriated him. Damn her, she knew how to get under his skin.

“It looks like you care about her... Do you have a crush on the pretty nurse, agent Whitethorn?” Celaena said with what he could only imagine was a wicked smile.

Rowan tried not to react to her taunts. He didn’t want to give her this pleasure. But anger was brewing inside of him.

Celaena stepped forward slowly, never breaking eye contact, and got close to him. When he inhaled, he was hit with the smell of jasmine and lemon verbena. 

“Tell me, agent Whitethorn. When you are alone in bed at night, do you think of her? Or do you think of me?” she whispered in his ear.

Rowan spat at her, and she laughed loudly.

“You’re crazy,” he exclaimed.

She moved back, clicking her tongue.

“I’m afraid our time together is running out. Your friends from the FBI will be here soon,” she said. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other soon enough.”

She blew him a kiss and disappeared into the dark of the night.

After a few minutes of silence, Rowan started to doubt she had actually warned his colleagues he was here. He was trying to figure out a way to free himself when Lorcan and Fenrys finally arrived, guns ready to fire.

“Whitethorn! Are you okay?” Lorcan exclaimed when he spotted him, dropping his weapon.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m not hurt.”

His boss ran to him and cut the ropes that were holding his hands and feet, setting him free. Rowan rolled his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again.

“It was her,” Rowan told them, looking up at his friends.

“Her who?” Fenrys asked, perplexed.

“Sardothien,” he clarified. “She drugged me and brought me here.”

“What did she want?” Lorcan enquired, always straight to the point.

“To talk,” Rowan replied.

“She wanted to talk?” Fenrys said, disbelief on his face. “What did she say?”

“She killed Cortland,” Rowan said, his anger quickly resurfacing.

“Is that what she said?” Lorcan questioned him.

“Not exactly, but she alluded to it,” Rowan answered.

The dark-haired man looked at Rowan with uncertainty in his eyes. He turned to look at Fenrys, who appeared unsure as well.

“I know it’s her. She’s crazy,” Rowan said adamantly.

“We worry about you, Whitethorn,” Fenrys said in a soft voice. “You seem fixated on Sardothien. There are many criminals in this city who wanted to see Cortland gone. She’s not behind everything that happens.”

“I-,” Rowan started, but Lorcan cut him off.

“Maybe it would be good for you to take a few days off. Get some rest, come back with a bigger picture of this.”

“Are you kidding me, Lorcan!? She just kidnapped me, and you want me to take a break? I don’t need rest, I need her behind bars,” Rowan exclaimed, baffled by his colleagues’ behavior. “You need me on this investigation. I’m the one who knows her best.”

“Alright, but I’m in charge of this investigation. You do what I say,” Lorcan replied firmly. “And tonight, I want you to go home and sleep. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Rowan opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Lorcan’s eyes kept him quiet. He simply nodded.

…

Rowan was pissed off. Really pissed off. He couldn’t believe Lorcan and Fenrys’ reactions. He gets drugged and kidnapped by the female assassin and he’s the one who’s fixated on her? His colleagues didn’t get the urgency of the situation. This woman was dangerous and insane. He tossed and turned in bed, too furious to sleep. He kept replaying the night in his head, looking for something he might have missed. Any clue that would lead him to Sardothien. When he finally fell asleep, exhausted, he dreamt of gleaming turquoise eyes and of jasmine and lemon verbena perfume.

…

The next morning, while she was eating breakfast on the couch and reading a novel, Celaena received a text. She ignored it, wanting to finish her chapter first. She was getting to the good part. But she had a gut feeling she wouldn’t like what the text said anyway. When she was finished reading, she put her book down on the coffee table and finally picked up her phone.

Boss wants to see you

She put her face in her hands, deeply breathing out. She knew she was in trouble. She went against Arobynn’s orders last night and he must have learned. She should have known; he had eyes everywhere. She shuddered at the thought of facing him. She threw her half-eaten bagel in the trash. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

Celaena took her time taking a hot shower and getting ready. Anything to postpone the inevitable confrontation that was waiting for her. When she couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore, she headed to The Guild’s manor.

It was large building, sitting on even larger grounds. The manor was located where you would least expect a criminal society’s headquarters would be: in the middle of a quaint and peaceful neighborhood of Rifthold. She knew the place like the back of her hand. She had lived there from the moment Arobynn had recruited her when she was 10 until the moment she turned 21 four years ago. She still had her room there and used it to store weapons. But she had moved out as soon as she was allowed to. She didn’t like this house and, even though she had spent more than ten years living there, she had never felt at home. It probably had more to do with the people living there than the building itself, but even the sight of it made her feel uneasy.

She was let through the gates by a security guard and made her way to the manor. The place was high-security and there were guards everywhere patrolling every inch of the grounds. Inside the building, there were cameras in every corridor and in the main rooms. She let herself in, simply nodding her head when she met someone she knew, and walked to Arobynn’s office. She took a deep breath, composing herself, before knocking on the door. It only took a few seconds for a voice to tell her to come in. She opened the heavy door and closed it behind her. Arobynn was standing by the window, looking outside.

“Sit,” he told her without looking at her.

Celaena obliged and took a seat in front of his desk. Arobynn was silent. She knew it was a bad sign. He finally looked her way.

“I’m disappointed, Celaena. Very disappointed,” he said, though his face didn’t show any emotion.

“I directly ordered you to stay away from Whitethorn,” he continued. “And what do my sources come and tell me? Whitethorn was kidnapped during the night.”

Celaena didn’t dare look away, even as his gaze darkened.

“I know it was you. You’re the only person foolish enough to do that,” he drawled out.

Arobynn stepped away from the window and walked until he was close to Celaena. He grabbed her roughly by the chin. Celaena tried not to recoil at the contact.

“You know I hold higher expectations for you. As my heir apparent, you must lead by example. You cannot do whatever you want and act recklessly like you did last night,” he told her. “But you already know all of this.”

Celaena didn’t say anything. She knew he didn’t expect an answer. 

“You know what happens when you disobey me,” he said.

She didn’t flinch as his hand hit her cheek loudly. Again, his hand came down on her face, even harder than the first time. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but she didn’t want him to see her cry.

He grabbed her by a fistful of hair and forced her to stand up. 

“You know I hate to do this, Celaena, but you need to learn,” he said.

This time it was his fist that hit her in the face. He pushed her violently, her head hitting the wall with a loud thump.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he exclaimed, bringing her head up by her hair.

Celaena looked at him with daggers in her eyes. She tried to get free from his strong grip, but he put his hand around her throat and squeezed. His gray eyes were full of rage.

After a few seconds, just when she was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he let go of her neck. She fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Arobynn walked away and went to sit behind his desk. Celaena was curled on the floor, holding herself.

“I also heard that Sam Cortland disappeared from the hospital after talking with the FBI. I’m hoping it was your work and we didn’t just lose him. Should I send someone after him?” he asked, his voice neutral as if nothing had happened.

Celaena cleared her sore throat, she could still feel Arobynn’s strong hands around it.

“No need. I took care of it,” she rasped out.

“Good. Did anybody see your face?” he inquired.

She thought about Whitethorn. She shook her head.

“Just a security guard. I don’t think he’ll talk. I can pay him a visit if you want,” she said.

“I’m not into taking chances. And I want you to stay away from this. He will be handled.”

Celaena knew what that meant, and guilt ate her up. She saved Sam, but an innocent man would die because of it. She should have come up with a better plan.

“Go. And don’t ever disobey me again,” Arobynn finally said.

Using all the strength and dignity she had left, she pushed herself on her feet and wobbled outside the room.

…

“Lochan, we need you to analyze this video footage and tell us if there’s a way to fix how it’s been tempered with. It’s urgent,” said Lorcan, handling a USB key to the small woman who was sitting at her desk.

Lorcan had requested the camera footage from the hospital and, as Rowan had expected it, the footage of Sam Cortland vanishing had been deleted. The only thing of interest they had noticed were two people leaving the hospital around the time of Cortland’s disappearance, one who looked like the young man, wearing a security guard jacket, and one with their face hidden by a hood. It was hard to tell in those few seconds of footage if Cortland was being forced or walked out of the hospital of his own free will.

“Good morning to you too, agent Salvaterre. I’ll do it but it’s not my priority. Maybe you could ask more nicely next time if you want me to put it first on the list of things I have to do,” Elide replied dryly.

Elide Lochan was an IT specialist who had worked with them at the FBI headquarters in Rifthold for the last three months. Despite her small size, the brunette was one of the only ones who dared stand up to Lorcan. She was a fierce young woman and a genius in her field. Rowan liked her. And he knew that even though Lorcan acted like a grouchy bastard around her and complained about her behavior, he liked her a lot. Rowan even had a bet going on with Fenrys on when they would finally get together.

“As I said, it’s urgent. It concerns someone’s disappearance and possible murder. Would you please do it as soon as possible, Miss Lochan?” said Lorcan with his best amiable voice.

Rowan suppressed a laugh. Lorcan never said “please” to anyone, his employees not the least. Elide already had him wrapped around her finger.

“I’ll do what I can,” she simply replied, taking the USB key and going back to work, typing away on her computer.

Knowing this was the best he would get out of this, Lorcan turned toward Rowan. He led him away from the IT specialist where no one could hear them.

“We can’t find the security guard who was watching Cortland’s room yesterday,” he whispered.

“Whoever took Sam probably got rid of him too,” replied Rowan, defeat in his voice.

“And now we don’t have any eyewitness or camera footage,” Lorcan said irately.

“What about the nurse I told you about?” Rowan asked him.

“What about her?”

“Maybe she saw something. If she’s still alive. We should have put protection on her and the security guard yesterday,” Rowan said, angry at his boss and at himself.

Lorcan didn’t say anything, but Rowan knew he was beating himself up for that mistake. Not that he would ever admit he made a mistake.

“Alright, get a warrant for her address and go see her,” Lorcan relented.

…

Celaena had finished her book thirty minutes ago. She was sitting on her sofa, contemplating what to do. She was bored and her body still hurt from her altercation with her boss. She had never hated someone as much as she hated Arobynn Hamel. But it’s not like she could leave. This wasn’t the kind of job you could quit alive.

She thought back to the moment Arobynn had recruited her. Well, recruited was probably the wrong word. She didn’t have much choice in the matter. Her parents had just been killed and she was young and scared. She didn’t have any place to go. She couldn’t go back home; she didn’t know if she could trust anyone back there.

She had been wandering the streets for days when she bumped into an auburn-haired man in his thirties. He looked important, wearing a nice suit and walking with assurance. She had apologized and walked away, but he had called after her. He had asked her what she was doing alone in the streets and offered her a warm meal. She knew she couldn’t trust anyone, never mind a stranger on the street, but when he had offered her a place to stay and hide, she couldn’t refuse. She had nowhere to go. And the man didn’t look like one of those creeps she had been warned about by her parents.

For the first few years, he was kind to her. He got her a private tutor so she could continue studying. He let her take any lesson she wanted: ballet, piano, languages… She loved to learn and was a good student. She had her own room which she had been able to decorate to her taste. Anything she wanted, she got. Except if it involved leaving the manor. That was always a no. He was worried for her safety, he had said.

When she had turned 14, he started being stricter. He had her take all kind of martial arts classes, brought her to the shooting range to show her how to shoot and even had her learn fencing. She had to spend long gruelling hours training and, when he wasn’t satisfied, he yelled at her. But he didn’t hit her. Not yet.

At 16, she was killing her first target. She had emptied her stomach in the toilet for hours afterward. But with time, it got easier. She was good at it and Arobynn was proud of her. Except when she made mistakes. That’s when the blows had started. And if she tried to defend herself, or even worse, fight back, he just hit harder, until she couldn’t anymore.

But he wanted to make her his heir, he had big aspirations for her, so she took every hit and kick and kept quiet. She had no other choice anyway. This was her life now. At least, she had Lysandra. They had met when they were teenagers and hated each other at first. They were always in competition and Arobynn encouraged their rivalry. But while Celaena became an assassin, beautiful Lysandra had become a con-artist and a thief. At some point, they realized they were both in the same boat and it would be nice to have someone to talk to. They had become fast friends after that.

She shook away the memories. She needed to do something, or she would die of boredom on this couch. Her body was still aching, but she changed and headed outside. She got into her car and instinctively, she drove downtown. She passed the FBI headquarters. She absentmindedly wondered what Whitethorn was doing today. Probably still on Sam’s case, trying to track the young man. She had just decided to drive away, knowing it was a bad idea, when she spotted silver hair on the sidewalk. She hid and observed as Whitethorn got into his gray sedan. Maybe today could be fun.

…

Rowan had finally obtained Lillian’s address. He hoped it wasn’t too late. He got out of his car and walked up the stairs to an average apartment located close to Rifthold’s Hospital. He knocked on the door and waited. A middle-aged woman opened up, her graying brown hair tied back. Rowan quickly checked the address, wondering if he had knocked at the wrong place, but no, this was it. He gave the woman a small smile.

“I’m here to see Lillian,” he said, looking inside the house and hoping to spot golden blonde hair.

“I’m Lillian. What can I help you with?” she replied, eyeing him curiously.

Rowan took a step back, surprised.

“What?” he mumbled, confused. He quickly clarified, “No, I mean Lillian Gordaina. She’s a nurse at Rifthold’s Hospital. Does she still live here?”

The woman looked at him, just as confused.

“I’m Lillian Gordaina and I work as a nurse at the hospital. You’ve got the right person,” she said.

This didn’t make any sense. This woman was definitely not his Lillian.

“There’s got to be some mistake. You’re not the person I’m looking for,” he explained, perplexed.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll go back to cooking my dinner. Goodbye.”

Rowan stopped her before she closed the door.

“Wait,” he exclaimed.

The woman looked frightened, so he said, “I work for the FBI.” He showed her his badge and she opened up the door fully.

“I’m looking for a woman in her twenties. White skin, long blonde hair, around 5’8”. She works as a nurse on the third floor too. Does it ring any bell?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied, at a loss. “I’m sorry but my dinner will burn if I don’t go back now. I hope you find her. Have a good day.”

She closed the door in Rowan’s face. He stayed there, looking at the closed door, stunned. What had just happened?

He got back down the stairs, walking to his car and getting inside. His mind was running wild, trying to make sense of the situation. Lillian Gordaina was a woman in her late forties who looked nothing like the woman he had met. Had the nurse given him a false name? But Mrs. Gordaina said she didn’t know any nurse who looked like her. Who was the blonde woman then? Why would she steal someone’s name and pretend to be a nurse at the hospital? And he had seen her at a bar too. It wasn’t the first time he had met her. He scoured his brain, thinking back on his interactions with her.

He suddenly sat up straight in his seat, dumbfounded. No, this couldn’t be it. He would have known, would have noticed something. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense and things seemed to click together. He hit his head on the steering wheel, cursing.

Lillian was Celaena Sardothien. 

...

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