#and she told me about practices and treatments that have helped her

[hatchetsfield-arch]

my head is covered in blue gunk that they used for all the wires & electrodes to do the sleep deprived EEG this morning and i both look and feel like i walked straight outta professor hidgens lab

[authorhjk1]

Teaching their hoebae the “real” side of the industry. They heard rumors of you making your “rounds” through different idols around your age/generation. And decided they want to see what the fuss was all about. “You’ve fucking all these cute girls trying to act like grown women. So why don’t I show you what a real woman can do with a beautiful cock like this”

You guys send me so many great ideas for SNSD, so I just had to get at least this one off my chest. This got way out of hand, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Sunbae

(Choi Sooyoung X Male Reader)

"Oh god, yes!"

Ningning's voice echoes through the changing room as you take her from behind.

You usually don't meet other idols that often, since you are in boy group that is mostly keeping to itself within the industry. Your own practice room, your own schedules, your own recording studio and so on. For the last three years, your group has taken Korea and the rest of the world by storm, so you do deserve this special treatment.

And there are more benefits. For example, being very popular with the female idols. Especially the ones your age. They all have busy schedules themselves, so there is no time for boyfriends. You are happy to help out though. Between schedules, you enjoy the company of Korea's most beautiful idols. You remember Wonyoung from three weeks ago. She is insanely pretty and the sex was great. The only downside is your own busy schedule. Not enough time to actually become proper fuck buddies with one if the girls, your schedules mostly conflicting.

But not on a day like this. The company got a great deal with a clothing brand. A big deal. And that's why a lot of idols are here, at this photoshoot location.

Just like you and Ningning.

"Right there, please!"

She cries out again as you hold her by her waist, her upper body resting atop the makeup table.

"And now turn right, please!"

You do as you are told, barely hearing the director's voice over the shutters of the cameras.

Your group already finished it's photoshoot half an hour ago. Your individual shoot is coming to an end too. Not knowing who it is, you are still waiting for your partner for the next couple of photos.

Since your agency isn't the only one now signed with the brand, you are not completely surprised, when you see that the idol approaching you is from another company.

"Hello, sunbae."

You bow respectfully. Trying not not stare. Choi Sooyoung. From SNSD. You can't believe your luck. Your favorite girl group. And Sooyoung herself. In that dress. You have to stop yourself, before you start drooling.

"Hello. (Y/n) is it, right?"

"Yeah."

You smile back at her, honored that she knows your name. The two of you haven't met before.

"I've heard a lot about you."

Her smile is genuine, but you could swear, her eyes are trying to tell you something. Like a secret. A secret only the two of you know.

"I'm honored."

You bow again, before turning towards the camera again. Wanting to hide your nervousness, you try to be professional.

The two of you just stand next to each other for a couple of shots at the beginning. Sooyoung, in that gorgeous, pink, shoulder less dress and golden heels and you, black suit, black vest, and a burgundy tie, which matches the red watch on your wrist.

Eventually, you find yourself holding onto her waist, while Sooyoung's hand rest on your right shoulder. It's only show of course. Trying to be respectful, you don't actually touch her, your hand just above the pink fabric.

She takes a couple of shots alone with the chair, your leader sat on during your group's shots. Afterwards, you take your place on that chair, while Sooyoung lifts her leg. You are captivated by its length and smoothness for a moment, until you feel her heel, slightly digging into your thigh.

A couple of camera shutters later, Sooyoung places her hand on her knee, bending forward. You are very aware of the fact that, with one look in the right direction, you would be seeing something that would keep you up all night. Instead, you stay focused on the camera.

"Now, (y/n)! Please place your hand on Sooyoung's thigh! Sooyoung, put your hand on his head!"

She does what she is told, immediately. You hesitate for a moment.

"You can touch me."

You look at her face for the first time in a while. Then you nod, wrapping your hand around her warm thigh.

"You are cute when you are being respectful."

You bite your lip, hoping the heat in your cheeks won't show in the photos later on.

"Just like that!"

The two of you look into the camera, until Sooyoung drops her first bomb on you.

"Don't look into the camera. Look straight ahead."

"What?"

In her position, she is almost pushing her chest into your face and now she asking you to look?

"Trust me. It's gonna come out great. Plus, you can see it as a reward. For making me look so good next to you in those pictures."

You gulp, debating internally, if you want to put your career on the line or not. But the temptation quickly proves to be too much. You only glance at her cleavage once, her smooth skin tempting you to lean in closer. You eventually do turn your head.

But instead of staying in place, Sooyoung suddenly changes position. Her lower body stands still. She removes her hand from your head and places her elbow on her naked knee, her chin now resting on her bend pointer finger and middle finger, as if she is thinking about something. You could still look at her cleavage if you wanted to, but now, Sooyoung's eyes are on the same level as yours.

And you can't escape her gaze. The camera crew gives you two applause and complements for your amazing chemistry, but you barely hear them. Sooyoung stares into your eyes, into your body, into your soul. You don't even dare to breathe, yet alone bluntly stare at her chest.

"Bad boy. Did you just try to look at your noona's tits?"

Your head starts spinning as if you have been dancing for ten hours straight. What is going on? You do, what you do best in these kind of situations, when you don't know what to do. Try to be funny.

"I didn't know I already have noona privileges."

You do make her chuckle as you point out her slip up. She just indirectly offered you a less formal way of talking with her.

The unwavering, sexy look she had put on, turns into a loving smile.

"From what I hear, you already have your fair share of privileges."

Her teasing and her overall sexy look makes it difficult for you to not become hard in public. A taks that proofs to be very difficult to pull off.

For everyone outside your little bubble, it must look like the two of you changed your concept from seductive strangers, to loving couple.

Unbeknownst to them, Sooyoung keeps talking in that voice of hers, sweet honey seems to be dripping from her lips.

"Do you enjoy your privileges so far?"

You are not slow, when it comes to thinking. And you desperately hope that your guess is correct. That Sooyoung isn't talking about actual privileges anymore.

"I-I do."

You can't help but let a shaky breath escape your lips. This is too good to be true.

"Oh, really?"

Sooyoung seems genuinely surprised.

"You don't care for noona privileges, then?"

She almost sounds hurt.

Like a well oiled machine, Sooyoung changes her position again, without even waiting for directions. A true model to outsiders. A skilful seductress to you.

She spins around and sits down on your right thigh. Instinctively, you reach for her waist, but hesitate, not knowing if you should touch her or not.

"Since you're my hoobae, I expect you to do as I say, from now on."

She suddenly sounds cold. And since you can't see her face anymore, you're afraid that you just blew your one and only chance of getting intimate with Choi Sooyoung.

But your worries of missing out are quickly replaced by new ones as she takes your hand and places it on top of her dress. But not around her waist, where you first intended to put it. Your palm rests on the hem of her pink one piece, your fingertips touching her upper thigh, which is draped over her left one. You are aware that only that piece of fabric and a couple of centimeters separate you from her core.

Eventually, your personal torture ends. The crew thanks the two of you for your hard work, promising you that your pictures will captivate the world, thanks to your chemistry.

You find it a little over the top, but you don't have the energy, or will, to argue.

"Come."

Sooyoung tells you, after saying goodbye to the staff. You walk after her, heading towards your changing room. But you never make it there. In the middle of the small hallway, Sooyoung turns around. Her arms now crossed in front of her body, she looks you up and down.

"Did you have fun with Ningning, earlier?'

You are stunned and visibly embarrassed.

"Well, I did hear her having fun, but I'm wondering about you. How often did she make you cum?"

"S-Sunbae... I-"

"Oh please. Don't play innocent. I heard about you more than I should've."

"Y-You did?"

You thought she was referring to your group's music, when she first said that an hour ago.

"Yes. I can even tell you their names, if you don't believe me. You seem to be leaving behind quite the impression."

"N-No I-I'm good, thanks."

Sooyoung ignores you with ease.

"Huh Yunjin, Shin Yuna,..."

You close your eyes in embarrassment, while she keeps counting with her fingers.

"...Baek Jiheon, Jang Wonyoung, Ningning..."

Sooyoung's eyes move from her fingers to you.

"You are going through these girls, like they go through their shoes, playboy."

"I-It's not like that."

What kind of stupid defense is that?

"Oh really? All these young girls seem to fall so easily for your tricks, is it that?"

"Sunbae, please..."

Sooyoung chuckles.

"Have you even been with a proper woman before?"

You get what she means. Someone older than yourself. You shake your head.

Sooyoung shakes her head in disappointment.

"Those girls are inexperienced themselves. How could they take care of my hoobae properly?"

She takes a step closer, slightly tilting her head as if she is trying to figure out what you could be possibly seeing in those girls.

"You've been fucking all these cute girls acting like grown women. So why don't I show you what a real woman can do with that big cock of yours?"

A wave of pleasure and anticipation rushes down your spine. For a brief moment, you wonder why Sooyoung would call you big, specifically. But you see her glancing down, biting her lip. You do the same, realizing that you have a hard on. You don't know for how long already.

Without waiting for an answer, Sooyoung reaches forward, cupping your cock over your pants

"I like the feeling of that. Maybe it's not only tricks you have going for you."

She gives you a quick peck on the lips, a cheeky smile playing around hers.

"I want a proper taste of you. All these rumors I hear sound way too exaggerated."

"Wait, sunbae. I-"

"Shush."

Sooyoung glares at you. Instead of her lips, her finger is now sealing your lips.

"You thought you were sleeping with all the female idols, right?"

You give her a weak nod.

"You are so naive. I'm gonna show you the real side of this industry."

You expect another kiss, when Sooyoung leans towards you. Instead, your lips only graze hers as she makes you miss, heading straight for your ear.

"Let me give you some senior advice, hoobae."

She nibbles on your earlobe for a second, before she continues to whisper into your ear.

"When someone offers you noona privileges, you take them."

Sooyoung takes your face into her hands, now looking at you again.

"Because real women like me, know what a boy like you wants."

She leans forward once again. Your lips barely touching hers as she keeps talking.

"We have what you need."

A moan almost escapes your lips.

Sooyoung pulls away, giving you a victorious smile.

"Follow me."

You do as she says and soon find yourself inside a spacious kitchen. Way bigger than your dressing room. Probably for the staff, if they have to work here the whole day.

"Isn't this kinda public?"

Sooyoung rolls her eyes. In that moment, you promise yourself not to say anything stupid ever again. She almost looked terrifying.

"Lesson one, playboy."

She placed her hands on the counter, slightly leaning over it. It takes an incredible amount of self control to not glance at her cleavage.

"Learn how to take a blowjob."

"What?"

You are mentally not quite there yet. You are still trying to figure out, how you went from a simple photoshoot to this.

"What do you-"

Sooyoung cuts you off with a gesture, motioning for you to come closer. Following her order, you find yourself trapped between the older woman and the countertop behind you.

"You are asking, what do I mean?"

You swallow your reply.

"I mean, that you have to learn how it feels like to receive proper head. We don't want you to cum too quickly."

Sooyoung leans in. Instead of kissing you, she tilts her head, kissing your neck.

"You see..."

Her words are interrupted by another kiss.

"Your noonas know how to worship cock. We know how important your pleasure is."

Sooyoung now moves towards your lips, leaving a trail of kisses behind.

"Now, try to hold on."

She whispers against your lips, before giving you a quick but deep kiss that leaves you breathless.

You watch in amazement as Sooyoung lets her finger wander from your cheek to your chin, along your throat, past your chest, until she reaches the hem of your shirt. At the same time, she lowers herself further and further, until she is squatting in front of you.

With a lustful look in her eyes, Sooyoung holds your stare as she opens your pants, without having to look at them. They glide down your legs and a moment later, you feel her give your clothed cock a kiss.

"Not half bad for a boy."

Sooyoung licks her lips, before she slowly pulls down your underwear.

"Hmmm."

Her warm breath plays around your cock as she hums in satisfaction.

"Girls your age don't know how to appreciate a dick like this."

Sooyoung closes her eyes, savouring the first taste of your cock as she lets her tongue glide over your tip. She follows that up with a couple of quick kisses along your shaft, before placing her tongue at your base. Your breath hitches as she drags her tongue along the underside of your cock.

"You really are blessed. It tastes amazing."

Sooyoung purrs, before finally opening her mouth wider. You bite your lip, watching how she slowly moves forward, her mouth around your cock without touching it. Once she reaches the second half of your length, Sooyoung finally closes her mouth around your cock, her lips forming an airtight seal.

"Oh, god."

You groan out, your head rolling back.

She starts to let her lips glide along your shaft as she pulls back, her tongue pressing against it from underneath. Once she reaches your tip, her tongue swirls around it, before she starts to take you into her mouth again.

Sooyoung doesn't stop doing these motions. Back and forth. Her head moves back and forth. Her lips glide along your shaft, back and forth. Her tongue drags along the underside of your shaft, back and forth.

Your knuckles quickly turn white as you hold onto the countertop behind you. Sooyoung is doing this at a way slower pace than all of the girls you've been with so far. She visibly enjoys sucking you off. You can tell by how her eyes are closed. How a slight smile plays around her lips. How she slightly hums around your cock, whenever she is about to take you in again.

It becomes harder and harder for you to keep your composure. There is no way in hell you're gonna last much longer. You try to tell her that, but your words are suddenly stuck in your throat, when Sooyoung decides to up her game even more.

You are now forced to take heavy breaths as the woman in front of you takes more of your cock. She glides further down you length than before. And soon, you realize that you've hit the back of her throat.

"Oh, shit."

You can't help but groan as the muscles of her throat flex around you. The act makes her throat squeeze you even more than before. Sooyoung slowly retreats, this time only halfway, before she pushes forward again.

"S-Sunbae."

You groan again, wanting to tell her to stop. If this is only the appetizer and you actually have a chance of feeling her pussy around you, you don't want to blow this. No pun intended.

Sooyoung does eventually listen to your warnings, feeling your cock throbbing in her throat. She leans back, until your tip only rests on her parted lips. She lets it fall off. Now, only a string of saliva connects her lips with your cock.

"That was..."

You can't find the right words.

"Good?"

Sooyoung shoots you a mocking grin.

"Good."

You repeat after her as you try to hold onto the feeling you just experienced.

"Judging from your reaction, these girls don't know how to take a cock down their throats. "

You weakly shake your head, confirming her assumption.

"A shame."

She mumbles to herself, before wrapping her hand around your cock.

"Time for lesson two, then."

Sooyoung stands back up again, her face inches away from yours.

"Learn to be patient. Older women don't like quick and meaningless wild sex. They like to take their time."

She pushes you towards your left, signaling you to sit down on the chair that is standing in the corner. After having done so, you watch Sooyoung stepping in front of you, before leaning down, her hands rest on your knees.

"This is also the perfect time for you to recover. Don't rush into this. Let me take the lead and enjoy the show."

Sooyoung puts her heel onto your thigh again, just like during the photoshoot. Except this time, she puts her finger on the top if her foot and slowly starts to drag it upwards. You watch it move along her smooth skin. Once it reaches her knee, Sooyoung speaks again.

"Learn to appreciate a woman's body. How it looks, how it feels and how it responds to your touch."

She reaches down again to take your hand. Slowly your fingers move up her leg and past her knee. Her thigh feels incredible as you explore more of her body. You eventually reach the hem of her dress. Before you can even try to push further, Sooyoung swats your hand away. In a swift motion, as if she is dancing to an inaudible tune, she lifts her foot off your thigh and spins around.

Her back is now facing you. Sooyoung raises her hands and then, slowly, lets them travel down the sides of her body. At the same time, she sways her hips seductively, until her hands reach her waist. She slightly bends forward as they run over her ass.

You almost reach out to grab a handful of her cheeks. But Sooyoung now lowers herself and sits on your lap. Her ass slightly grinds against you. She reaches behind herself, finding the back of your head, before forcing you to lean it forward. Your lips land on her naked shoulder and you start to kiss her skin. Thanks to the angle, you finally have a clear view of her cleavage for the first time. No bra, you notice. The dress seems to be tight enough to keep her breasts in place by itself.

Sooyoung must've caught you staring somehow, because she now place another finger on her collarbone. Her pink nail glides over skin, eventually reaching the upper hem of her dress. She hooks her finger into it, slowly pulling it down.

Just enough to make you drool, without revealing everything.

Sooyoung seems to have enough of your kisses. She gets off your lap and turns around again. While maintaining eye contact, she hooks both her thumbs into her dress on either of her sides. Sooyoung starts to strip in front of you. When she is about to free her tits entirely, she leans forward and lets them fall out of her dress. You watch with a dry mouth, unable to say a word.

She wiggles her hips as she gets the rest of the dress off, until she is standing completely naked in front of you. Her pink dress a pile of cloth around her ankles. She steps out of it and towards you.

"Good boy."

She straddles your lap again. Your cock is now resting on her stomach at the hight of her belly button.

"Lesson three."

Sooyoung reaches down to slowly stroke your cock. Her other hand grazes your cheek, before she lets it rest on your shoulder.

"Be a good fuck toy for your noona. Trust me, I know how to ride you so well, that you pass out from the pleasure."

She gives you another kiss on the lips, before she lifts herself off your lap.

"And feel free to explore a real woman's body."

With that, Sooyoung aligns her pussy with your cock. She slowly sinks back down.

"Oh, god!"

You immediately groan.

"Fuck!"

Even Sooyoung lets out a loud moan.

"You feel way bigger than before."

She now places the other hand on your shoulder as well, only your tip resting inside of her right now. That changes, when Sooyoung slowly lowers herself further. Looking down, you watch more and more of your cock disappear inside of her.

"Were you even able to fit all of this into your cute little girls?"

Despite her mocking tone, you can tell that Sooyoung is struggling. She stops for a couple of seconds halfway down, before she eventually keeps going.

When she does reach your base, her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Damn, I can feel your cock push my organs out of the way."

Before you are able to reply, Sooyoung starts to lift herself off of you again. When only your tip remains inside her core, she lowers herself back onto you.

You grit your teeth at the pleasure and you remember what Sooyoung told you earlier. Your hands start from her hips. They move across her midriff and sides, until they reach her tits. You begin to grope them, while Sooyoung keeps her slow pace. Maybe you are a little too much to handle. Even for her.

Her soft skin underneath your palms and her tight pussy around your cock send spikes of pleasure through your system. When Sooyoung finally does get used to your size, she starts to ride you, just like she promised.

Her pace increases with every other thrust. A minute or so later, she is bouncing on your cock, a satisfied smile on her face. You lean forward to catch one of her nipples with your mouth, which makes her moan.

Sucking on her tits, you enjoy the ride Sooyoung is giving you. Once in a while, she changes it up a little. Instead of constantly impaling herself on your cock, she occasionally stays glued to your hips. She would then move hers in a circle motion, making your dick rub against all kind of places inside of her.

Sooyoung alternates between both styles of riding, making sure you are on a steady way towards your orgasm. But you manage to catch her off guard with how well you suck on her tits. Sooyoung moans more and more, never having expected you to be this good. She doesn't lose her rhythm, but it's obvious she is beginning to struggle to keep it together.

"Yes, keep sucking on them! Good boy!"

She praises you, while her hips smash down onto yours. You can't tell how long it as been, but Sooyoung's prediction might actually become true. Her pussy keeps draining your composure out of you. Whenever she circles her hips, your legs quiver. Your hands have found their way back to her waist by now. You are squeezing her sides, trying to not lose grip on reality.

Sooyoung is in no better condition. Your cock keeps hitting just the right spots. Whenever she impales herself on your cock, she can feel it push upwards against her guts, forcing the air out of her lungs. Eventually, she can't take it anymore. Only able to grind herself on top of you, back and forth, she becomes a mess in your lap, while you keep sucking on her breasts.

"Ah, fuck! (Y/n)!"

She didn't call you by a nickname for the first time in quite a while. Her pussy pulsates around you, trying to make you orgasm too. Her nails dig into your shoulders, probably leaving stinging marks behind. Sooyoung shivers and shakes on top of you.

Once she finally does come down, she gives you a lustful stare.

"Not bad, playboy."

She captures your lips with hers. You instinctively wait for her to announce another lesson.

"Last lesson."

There it is.

"Learning how to cream pie your sunbaes."

"Cream pie?"

"You heard me the first time."

Sooyoung bites her lip and resumes her riding.

You've never done this before, for obvious reasons. Your career, the other idol's career and so on and so on. But now, she isn't really giving you much of a choice. And it's not like you're complaining. Every fan would dream of having a chance to cream pie Choi Sooyoung.

That dream becomes reality a couple of minutes later.

"Oh, god! Sunbae!"

Now it's your turn to shout out her name. Well, at least the formal version of it. Your heels dig into the floor, you thrust upwards into her waiting pussy. And then, you start to fill her up.

A deep moan rolls off Sooyoung's tongue as she feels herself getting cream pied by someone way younger than herself. Your warmth enters her stomach and she makes sure that nothing of your precious cum escapes, by not moving at all.

"You did a great job, playboy. You are a fast learner."

After her praise, Sooyoung gives you a curious look.

"How many more rounds do you have in you? I won't be leaving this place, until I've made sure that you are taken care of properly."

She leans down to kiss you again, her tongue dancing with yours for a while.

"And there is one more thing older women do, that younger girls don't."

After breaking the kiss, Sooyoung whispers into your ear again.

"Swallow."

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Two — Azriel x Reader.

Summary: Azriel comes back for a little more practice. But this time, he wants to learn more than just kissing.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some violence, injury detail, mention of blood. Smut 🌶️ some touching and fingering 😏

“Is that painful?”

“A little. Keep going.”

Rhysand’s hands are gentle when, a week later, you lay face-down on his couch, naked from the waist up. You wince as his fingers skate over jagged, poorly healed scars. You can picture the look on his face without needing to glimpse it; pursed lips and a furrowed brow and barely contained rage.

But he doesn’t let that rage seep into his hands as he smooths a pleasant, cooling salve into what remains of your wings. Which isn’t much.

“Sorry,” he murmurs at your slight jolt. “Almost done.”

There are very few people you will trust with touching your back. It’s too personal for you to visit the camp healer for such treatment, however trained and skilled he may be. But Rhysand—

“I swear to you, Y/N.” His voice is deep, stoic, warm breath fanning your shoulder. “When I’m High Lord, this will be outlawed. Females will not go through this under my rule.”

He promises it every single time he helps you with this. And he means it. Which is why you trust him implicitly with the act.

“I know.” You murmur against a couch cushion. “Thank you.”

“All done.”

As he wipes his hands on a rag, you ease yourself into a sitting position, clutching your shirt to your bare chest. As always, a crackling fire breathes heat into Rhysand’s mother’s home, and the feeling is pleasant, soothing.

“I haven’t seen your mother recently.” You mention, waiting for Rhys to turn around so you can slip your shirt on. It’s not that he hasn’t seen more private parts of your body over the years, nor that you particularly care, but he does you the courtesy, anyway. “Is she well?”

A soft, loving smile curls at his lips. “She is.” And then the smile widens into a full-blown grin. “My father wants her closer to home. She’s with child.”

“Seriously?” You blink, and then you’re throwing yourself at Rhys, sheer happiness and excitement filling you. “Rhys, that’s amazing. You’re going to have a brother or sister.”

“Sister, I hope.” He snorts, squeezing you, and yet also minding your still-bare back. “We need more girls around here.”

“Well, boy or girl, you’ll be the most incredible big brother. I just know it.”

And you absolutely do. Rhys has always been that sort of presence in your life; caring and loving and protective. Stern sometimes. A shoulder to cry on. A giver of warm, much-needed hugs.

You lean into one of those hugs now, not caring nor thinking about the fact that your top half is naked and pressing against him. That is, until the front door opens behind you, sweeping a gust of icy air indoors.

You turn just in time to see Azriel kick the snow from his boots. And then he pauses in the doorway, staring between you and Rhysand.

There’s been no mention of the kiss that night a week ago. Things haven’t been strange nor awkward. Just…normal. As if it never happened.

You’ve combed over it in your mind a little, though. Maybe more than a little.

“I told her the news.” Rhys announces, pulling away from you. A beaming grin still lights up his face.

Azriel’s mouth immediately tilts up, matching his enthusiasm as he smiles at you. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Oh, incredibly.” You shrug your shirt on. “I’m bound to get far more stimulating conversation from a newborn babe than I do from you three idiots.”

Rhys swats you and Azriel snorts, and then you’re pushing to your feet and heading towards the small kitchen area. “I’m making tea. Do either of you want some?”

“No, I’m heading out to visit my mother.” Rhys stands. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, though.”

“Give her my love.” You tell him.

Azriel dips his head. “And mine.”

With a chipper goodbye, Rhys is dipping out of the cottage. Shutting the door behind him seals the heat inside once more, and already you have some soothing release from the pain in your upper back.

“Tea?” You offer again over your shoulder.

“Please.” Az approaches you from behind, stopping mere inches away to tie the strings at the back of your tunic. “Cass won’t be joining us. He ran into Sacha on the way here.”

You snort. Cassian’s most recent fling is coming up to a week-long stint, now. It won’t be long before cracks begin to show, and the whole thing is called off, and another female or male takes Sacha’s place. Rinse and repeat.

“I wonder which one of them will break it off. My money’s on Sacha.” You ladle a generous helping of sage tea into two cups and hand one to Az. “How are things with Kaeda?”

You can’t lie — you’ve wondered it a fair few times over the past week. Which is only natural, right? To question if the…help…that you gave Azriel was of any use. But so far, he hasn’t mentioned a damn thing.

He takes a long, pensive sip of his steaming drink. And then shrugs. “I’ve not really had the chance to see her.”

Immediately, you cock an eyebrow. Because Az seems to have had plenty of time for you and Rhys and Cass over the last seven days. Even spared one of those days to fly you to the local market to pick some things up for your father. It hasn’t been a particularly busy week for any of you — slow, even — and you’re almost positive he’s had a spare few minutes to land a kiss on his romantic interest.

Leaning your back against the wall, you shoot him a look. One that says, that’s not going to fly with me, Shadowsinger. “Wanna try that again?” You say. “The truth this time, please.”

He sighs, pressing back against the opposite wall. It must be so annoying for him that you can read him so well. Azriel doesn’t like being read. At all.

“I’m just…not confident enough yet. So, I’ve been avoiding her.” He admits. “I think I need more practice.”

You stare at him. Study him. You’re not sure if he’s implying what…what you think he might be implying. “You’re a good kisser, Az.” You tell him. “Trust me.”

The firm, truthful tone of your voice has his cheeks reddening slightly. He lowers his gaze to the floor. “But I don’t feel like one. And that’s the key to it all, isn’t it? Confidence. I’m just not there yet.”

Fair enough, you think. He’s not wrong. But the direction in which this seems to be going has your heart doing a strange, anticipatory flip in your chest.

“So…” You drag the word out. “Are you asking to practice on me again, or? Because I can totally steal one of the sparring dummies from the training ring and guide you that way—”

“Forget it.” He cuts your teasing off with a roll of his eyes.

“No, wait, I’m sorry.” You bite back a laugh. “I’m taking it seriously, I promise. Tell me what you need.”

He purses his lips, eyeing you for a long moment. You allow him to do so, even if it makes you feel a little naked.

“All I know,” he says, “is that I’m comfortable with you.”

The words are…strangely heavy. Vulnerable. He means them, and you know that, but they’re so weighty that for a moment, you can’t speak.

You suppose you’re so accustomed to your friendship with him — the familiarity and comfort of it — that you don’t think too often about how good it feels to be such a support for somebody. It makes you feel good. Useful. You want to always be able to help him like that.

So, you know you’d offer him anything, do anything he needs.

“If you need to practice on me some more, Az...” Your voice is strangely raspy. “I’m right here.”

He swallows. “But I don’t want it to seem like…like I’m using you.”

“It doesn’t.” It really doesn’t. You keep it to yourself that you need this in your own, little way. “I’d tell you if I felt like that.”

His eyes scan your face, and he seems satisfied with the truth that’s displayed there. He licks his lips and swallows and shifts from foot to foot. And then he says, simply, “Okay, then.”

And you guess this is happening right now, like it happened right then a week ago. So, you place your mug of tea on the counter and push away from the wall. Azriel does the same.

He steps a little closer. Pauses. “Do I need to do anything different to what I did before?”

“No.” You answer, probably a little too quickly. “No, you were great.”

He blushes again, and he seems to be fighting the urge to look away. But he maintains the eye contact like a champ and closes the space between you.

His scent, his warmth, is like a blanket that’s draped over you. You want to wrap yourself inside it, build a fort out of it, hide in it.

Azriel’s hands tremble as he lifts them to your face. He seemed to enjoy that last time — the feel of your skin beneath his. You enjoyed it, too. You tilt your head up just a little.

His thumb makes contact with your cheekbone, brushing a gentle sweep over the area. He leans down—

But then the door flies open, and a snow-covered, pissed off Cassian stomps in.

“Sacha and I are finished.” He announces, not seeming to notice yours and Azriel’s compromising position. “Let’s go to the mead hall.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The mead hall is packed and noisy, exactly how Cassian wants it. He’s in a foul mood, and so a higher volume of people means he has a good choice of who to pick a fight with.

When he gets like this, there’s not really any stopping him.

Luckily, your father isn’t there tonight, so you’re comfortable sitting wedged between Az and Cass without his paranoid, judgemental stare. But you don’t want to be here — the males are too drunk and boisterous, and you seem to be one of very few females present. It makes their leering gazes far more apparent.

“It was a total misunderstanding.” Cassian says from beside you, leaning over you a little so that Az can hear, too. “Yes, I might have called her the wrong name—”

“I would have thrown you out on your ass, too.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes. “At least know the name of who you’re fucking before you dive between their legs.”

“I do know her name. I just got confused—”

He stops mid-sentence and looks up as, from behind, a pair of rough, meaty hands land on your shoulders and squeeze. You immediately recoil at the touch, turning to glimpse the mammoth of an Illyrian male whose name you think is Tanin. Not that you care.

He stinks of ale and sweat as he leans down and smells your hair. You tense. Cassian tenses. Azriel tenses.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Tanin slurs. “When are you going to let me dive between your legs?”

And there it is. Cassian’s excuse for a fight.

He’s out of his seat and on him quicker than you can even register, slamming Tanin down on the adjacent table amidst plates of food and goblets of ale. Blood goes flying as he pummels his fist into the bastard’s face, and then he’s grabbing a goblet of ale and pouring it over Tanin until he’s coughing and spluttering.

“How about you wash your filthy fucking mouth out?” Your friend snarls, diving in to land another punch. “Piece of shit.”

You turn to Azriel in mild alarm. Usually, he would have jumped in by now, pulled Cassian off before he can do too much damage. But the shadowsinger merely watches the affray with something akin to satisfaction on his face. You sigh in exasperation. This will quickly get out of hand.

“Cass.” You stand, reaching for your friend. “Cassian—”

But your voice is barely heard beneath all the yelling and jeering, and then Tanin is fighting back, landing a hit on Cassian so hard that he stumbles backwards — falls into you and knocks you to the floor, right amongst the gathering, boisterous males.

There’re feet everywhere in all directions, catching you in the side and stepping on your hand and knocking you back down whenever you try to get up. Suddenly, the fight is no longer between Cassian and Tanin. Males are punching each other for the sake of it, and more and more of them join in, not even knowing why they’re brawling. It’s the Illyrian pastime.

Just before another foot can swing into you, you’re aware of strong arms lifting you and plucking you straight from the centre of the chaos. Azriel shoves a drunken lout who backs into you, and then he’s dragging you away, his eyes fierce and blazing.

“You’re alright?” He asks over the shouting, his gaze roving your dirtied, creased tunic.

Your hand is throbbing from being stepped on, but the ache is already dulling. You nod. “I’m fine. Where is Cass?”

“Here.” Cassian suddenly appears behind you. His hair has mostly escaped the knot he’d tied it into, and his lip is badly split, blood gushing down his chin. He spits some onto the floor, and his words are thick and almost unintelligible as he cups his mouth and says, “Pieth of thit got me good.”

You scowl, knocking his hand away to grip his chin. “Serves you right. That fight was completely unnecessary.”

“I dithagree.” His eyes glitter, but then he grimaces and pulls away to spit more blood out. “Dammit. I think I need thitches.”

He definitely does. The gash in his lip is deep and pouring. And with the fight still merrily going on around you, it won’t be long before someone tries to drag him back into it. And Cass will happily oblige.

“Go to the healer and get that seen to.” Azriel tells him, not unlike a stern parent. He grips him by the shoulder and steers him out of the door, dragging you with him by the other hand. “And then sober up. I’m taking Y/N home.”

“And apologise to Sacha.” You add.

Cassian grumbles, but the fact that he doesn’t protest is a positive. He can sometimes be so stubborn that it makes you want to split his lip yourself. It would seem he’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine.” He spits blood onto the dirt path. “Maybe Satha will take pithy on me.”

The fact that neither you nor Az agree is downright hilarious. But nor do you correct Cassian’s drunken, skewed thinking. Nights like these are a common occurrence, and to some degree, you just have to let your friend get on with it.

Cass turns, and you catch him quickly by the hand. “Thank you.” You tell him, because he was defending your honour, after all. “Love you.”

He grins a bloody grin, and then winces as it tugs at the wound. “Loveyouthoo, thweetpea.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ You don’t feel like going home and facing your father tonight, and with Rhysand’s mother’s cottage at your disposal, you don’t have to. It’s not unusual for you to spend nights away from home; usually he doesn’t care enough to even question it. But if he does, you always tell him the same thing — you spent the night with one of your many female friends. No males present. Such a little liar, you are.

But you’re content with that lie as you sink into the couch, your eyes flicking over to Azriel in the kitchen. He stirs a cup of tea silently, pensive as always. He’s asked about your wellbeing at least seven times since you stepped through the door.

You’re fine, you’ve answered each time, and it’s true. With him, you’re always fine. It doesn’t stop him worrying, though.

His footsteps thud against the floor as he approaches you, and he holds out a steaming mug. “Drink this. I put plenty of honey in it.”

Your lips twitch into a fond smile, and you accept it, taking a warm sip. “I was on the floor for a matter of seconds, Az. I have a bruised hand, that’s all.”

He knows this, of course, but trying to get him to stop fussing would be like beating a dead horse, and you really don’t mind being taken care of, anyway. Azriel settles into the space beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. You lean into his side.

For a few moments, it’s comfortably silent. And then he snorts softly. “Cassian’s going to have a hard time apologising to Sacha when he can barely form a legible sentence.”

You laugh, tipping your head back against his shoulder. “Maybe she really will take pity on him.”

“If only she’d been there to witness his gallant display of coming to your defence. It might have impressed her.”

“Or put her off him for good.”

“The heartbreak would drive him into someone’s bed, I’m sure.”

The two of you share another laugh, and then silence blankets the small cottage. You’re always content like this, just…existing with Azriel. No need to be a certain way or do a certain thing, like you have to in your own home. With your closest friends, you have the freedom of being yourself unapologetically.

You finish your drink, and then Az is pulling you down with him, his wing draping around you. You’ve fallen asleep like this countless times — with all three of your friends at least once — and it’s one of the few places you feel truly safe.

But as you lie there, basking in Azriel’s warmth, your eyes don’t grow heavy. Rather, they continuously creep over to that spot in the kitchen you stood in with Az earlier, your bodies inches from each other, your lips very nearly meeting but not quite touching thanks to Cassian’s abrupt arrival.

A strange sense of disappointment hits you. Disappointment that you didn’t get to feel that heated kiss a second time.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you murmur, knowing Azriel is just as awake as you are. “That we got interrupted.”

He turns his face slightly, chin brushing the top of your head. “It’s not your fault that Cassian has terrible timing.”

Your shoulders shake as you give a little laugh. No, no it isn’t. But amongst your disappointment — which is selfish, really, because the kiss was never for your sake —you feel guilt, also. Guilt that you didn’t get to help Az, despite that being what he needed.

You tip your head back enough to look up at him. “I’m still happy to help, you know. The offer is still there.”

For a couple of seconds, he merely stares down at you. His fingers absentmindedly twiddle a strand of your hair. And then he says, a hue of pink colouring his cheeks, “I still need the help.”

And in that moment, he looks so genuinely perturbed by his own inexperience that you can’t bear it. You’ll do anything, say anything, to put him at ease. To help him realise that these things are different for everyone. There’s no time frame he should be keeping to. Twenty years of age or thirty or forty or fifty, he could have come to you with these things worrying his thoughts, and there would never be any judgement. Only understanding. Only what he needs.

So, you slowly sit up, folding your legs beneath you and turning so that you’re facing him. “Would you like to practice now?”

He eyes you and swallows. And then he nods. “I would.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Come here, then.”

Just as you had, he pushes himself up into a sitting position. You can tell he’s tense by the way his wings fall about him; his shoulders squared. You reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.

“We already did this once, Az.” You remind him. “Just do what you did before.”

He nods — more to himself than to you. And then he’s scooting closer. His palm settles at your jaw.

He doesn’t go in for the kiss immediately. You allow him to do whatever he needs to do, whatever feels right. He seems content, for the time being, with dancing his fingers over the skin of your cheek, your jaw, your neck and the shell of your ear. His hand, scarred and callused, climbs and falls, explores each area with rapt attention. He takes note at the way your eyes momentarily flutter closed — an inadvertent reaction to his fingers skating over the pulse point of your throat.

“Is that pleasant?” His voice is deep, husky.

“For me, yes.” You clear your throat. “But I suppose not for everyone. Everybody has sensitive areas. That’s one of mine.”

You’re shamefully disappointed when, after a moment, his hand moves back up. It finds its place at your jaw again, and Az cups your cheek.

“Okay,” he whispers, and leans in.

There’s no chance for you to utter a word as he dips his head and presses his lips to yours. This time, there’s no quick, chaste peck to test the waters. Azriel dives straight in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that robs the breath straight from your lungs.

His mouth paws at yours, and you give yourself to the sensation, submitting fully to the practice. You want Azriel to take what he needs — to get a desired result from this — but as you kiss him back, you can’t help noticing the stiff, tense set of his body.

He’s not relaxed, not at all, and it shows. Something about this is bothering him, holding him back. Nerves, probably. Maybe even second thoughts. Whatever it is, you want him to communicate it, be honest about it.

So as much as you really, really don’t want to, you pull away, your face hovering a mere hair’s-breadth from Azriel’s. He seems to blink, and he licks his lips and stares at you with unguarded concern in his eyes. You know he’s already thinking a million things at once, wondering if he put a foot wrong.

“What is it?” You ask, making a grab for his hand. “You’re…tense. This is no different to what we did last week.”

Your friend stares back at you, conflict a war on his face. And for a split second, you start to think that he is having doubts, that he’s regretting having gone along with this.

And that…that would hurt. You’d understand, of course, because he’s your friend, and this is simply about helping him — but it would definitely hurt.

You don’t want to think too much about why that might be.

Rejection is never pleasant, you suppose.

“Az…” you chew your lower lip. “You can tell me. Whatever it is. If you want to stop this and just…talk…or do nothing at all…then that’s fine, too—”

“Kissing isn’t the only thing I’ve never done.”

The words leave him in such an abrupt gust that you’re stunned into silence.

You stare at him wordlessly.

Of course, it’s not that you haven’t considered that over the past seven days. Up until a week ago, you’d simply assumed that Azriel must have had a whole wealth of experience when it came to kissing people. And you’d turned out to be wrong. It wasn’t unusual to question whether there was more you didn’t know.

But you also knew perfectly well that sex didn’t require kissing. Az could have slept with a whole host of different people, and yet chosen — for whatever reason — to not kiss a single one of them.  He could have built up knowledge and experience in plenty of other areas without ever having explored what many would consider to be the first step.

You’d considered that Azriel might not have any sexual experience. And then you’d surmised that he most likely had.

That, it would seem, is not the case.

He looks more uncomfortable than ever, lowering his gaze and rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You want to tell him that none of that matters, that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but the words simply will not come.

“I’m just…completely inexperienced. In every way.” He admits gravelly. “I’ve come close to doing things, but…I always overthink it. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to…to progress.”

Makes sense. It’s a daunting thing to explore, and even more so when you don’t trust easily. It’s perfectly reasonable that Az has protected himself from that pressure.

“Have you…” You clear your throat, desperate to make sure you’re handling this correctly, decently. “Have you ever done anything at all?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m completely well-versed where my own pleasure is concerned, Y/N, trust me. It’s with another person that I have no fucking clue.”

Right. Got it.

Swallowing down a ridiculously huge lump in your throat, you give a slow, pensive nod. “Alright. Well…these things just…evolve naturally. One thing leads to another. The absolute worst thing you can do — with kissing or anything else — is overthink it. Do that, and it’s over before it begins. You just…follow your body’s lead and do what feels natural.”

Good fucking advice, if you do say so yourself. Azriel’s still-unsure expression is the only thing that stops you from giving yourself a well-earned pat on the back.

“Right. Follow my body’s lead.” Az sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He clears his throat. “Can we continue?”

“If you want to continue, Az, we’ll continue.”

A small, soft smile lifts his lips, and it melts your heart a little. He’s genuinely grateful for your patience and understanding; you wonder if he truly knows that you’d give him, his kind heart, the entire world if you could.

But before you can sink too far into your mushy thoughts, Azriel’s hands are at your face once more, and he’s angling it up towards him.

You wait. Allow him to make the first move. He does.

He kisses you like your lips might disappear before his very eyes if he doesn’t. His mouth slants over yours, and that coiled tension is no longer making his body rigid and unnatural. He’s heeding your advice, relaxing into it, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

His thumb sweeps your cheek, and his tongue sweeps your lip, and you’re opening up for him, allowing him to slip it inside to meet yours. At once, his taste is overpowering you, mixed in a little with the mulled wine he drank at the mead hall. It’s a song to your senses, and you’re desperate to hear it, feel it, from start to finish.

Perhaps that’s why you’re not really aware of the way your bodies move. Az is shifting on the couch and so are you, and while one of his hands remains at your face, the other moves down and slides gently to the scars on your back. It seems, for a moment, that he might tug you closer, but in one swift movement, he’s laying you down, and he’s tucked between your legs and hovering over you so closely. He cushions the remains of your wings, always concerned about your comfort.

Kissing him like this feels wildly different to kissing him sat up. It feels…intense and yet tender. Fast and yet slow. Like this could go anywhere and everywhere all at once. And part of you wonders if it should go nowhere. Perhaps you should stop. Helping Azriel gain confidence is one thing, but he’s your closest friend, and never before have you had your closest friend more or less lying on top of you, his body moving against you, while his mouth dances over yours.

Bizarre, really.

But you still continue to kiss him back.

Your hand moves up to cup the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder, graze your tongue over his lower lip—

He pulls his face away from you abruptly. Perhaps that was a step too far—

But something in the way he stares down at you, panting heavily, tells you it wasn’t.

“Where do you like to be touched?” He asks you, so gutturally that the words vibrate through you.

And they damn well catch you off guard.

You blink up at him, flustered, not sure you heard right. “I…what?”

Azriel then licks his lips. “I mean…where do you think Kaeda would like to be touched?”

Kaeda.

You’d forgotten about her. The reason that Az is even kissing you in the first place. Because he wants to be good for her.

The thought stings a little. You try to shake it off. “That…that’s something you’ll have to learn from Kaeda herself.”

He stares back at you. Studies your face. And he looks so…so genuinely daunted, that you search for something, anything, to put him at ease.

“But me…” You clear your throat. “I like to be touched in lots of places.”

He’s still staring at you in that strange, intense way. After a beat, he asks, “Will you show me?”

It’s your turn to stare at him then. You’re starting to think that perhaps the world has been turned on its head. You and Azriel, to each other, are familiarity and comfort. You’ve seen each other at your best and at your worst, been there for some damn near humiliating circumstances. This is the male who has bathed the blood of your own cycle from your skin and held your hair back when the cramps have turned your stomach. He’s listened to some of your most embarrassing stories without humour or judgement; just understanding. To him, you are an old, well-worn, well-loved pair of boots.

And he wants you to show him how to touch.

Never, under a million fucking sunrises, could you have predicted this would happen between you.

But you’re not recoiling from the request. You’re just…surprised. You’re not balking from it, nor running out of there screaming.

Nor has Azriel ever balked when you’ve asked for his help, his guidance. Not once.

You angle your body up slightly, just to get a better look at him. And you study him a moment longer. “…Az, are you…”

“I know what I’m asking, Y/N, and I’m sure.” He says without pause. “Show me how a female should be touched.”

Suddenly, you feel like the nervous, inexperienced one. You can totally say no, of course — Azriel would put a stop to it immediately if you did. But you don’t want to.

You want to do this. Want to help.

Your hand cups the back of his neck once more, and then you’re tugging his face down, pulling his mouth onto yours.

The kiss starts out slow and soft. There will be no rushing this for either of you. It’s an exploration, a way to trace the maps of each other’s mouths. You’re both desperate to know more, feel more, before this goes any further.

So, you follow your own advice. You told Azriel to trust in his body, follow its lead, and you now do the same. You want this to progress naturally, like…like it isn’t a transaction. Isn’t something that you agreed on beforehand.

There is no breaking from the kiss this time, even when you’re panting into each other’s mouths. Azriel’s hand is firm and pleasant at your jaw, and your tongues are intertwined, and you’re kissing like you want this specifically with each other. A fact you will not ruminate on,

You nip gently at Azriel’s lip, and this time, he does not pull away. He hums quietly — seemingly unaware of doing so — and applies a little pressure to your mouth. Kisses you harder.

And it’s then — then that you reach for the hand that’s settled at your jaw. You curl your fingers around Azriel’s wrist, and slowly, you drag that hand down.

You think you might be shaking a little, but you don’t give the nerves too much thought. Azriel allows you to guide him. His fingers brush over your neck, content to explore the soft skin there, but you keep that hand moving. The warmth of his palm permeates the fabric of your tunic, and the feeling is pleasant against your chest.

When you finally close his hand over the swell of your breast, you break away just to whisper onto his mouth, “I like being touched here.”

Azriel’s eyes bore into yours, heated and blazing. He swallows.

Clothed you might be, but there’s no undergarment between your shirt and your breast. The weight of Azriel’s hand falls heavy over the swell, and there may as well be no barrier of clothing with how delicious it feels.

His gaze remains on yours as he cups you in his palm. And then his thumb inches in, grazing over your nipple. You suck in a short breath at the contact, your back arching a little.

Azriel pauses. “Is…is this okay?”

“Yes,” you say, a little too quickly. “It’s more than okay, Az.”

A soft smile appears on his lips. You smother it with yours, pulling his face closer once more. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to kiss him again, or what you’re supposed to do amidst any of this, but it feels like the right thing.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Your kiss is hot and needy, and you find yourself bunching the fabric of Azriel’s shirt in your fist as he begins to more confidently explore your breasts.

He squeezes them, palms at them, traces the turgid peaks of your nipples, and you happily arch into it all. But then, without any guidance from you, his hand is leaving your breasts. Travelling down.

And you don’t breathe a word. You figure if he has a question, needs direction, he’ll ask. You kiss him as if you were always made for kissing him, and his fingers are dancing over your stomach, down and down.

“What…” he tugs his lips from yours, his fingers now at the waistband of your breeches, “what about here? Do you like being touched here?”

You stare up at him. And you’re supposed to be guiding him, aren’t you? So, panting, you fold your hand over his and move it down. Away from the waistband. Between your legs.

You fold his hand over the very centre of you. And you wonder if he can feel your heat through your breeches. It feels blazing to you, and torturously so. Like a fire has been lit between your thighs. You’re growing wetter by the second, and your scent must be filling the room.

“Here.” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s deep, smoky. “Right here.”

Azriel watches you closely. Watches your face as he applies pressure to your heat. His thumb presses down.

And you’re not thinking about his intense stare as a soft moan falls from your mouth. Your brow is furrowed, lips parted, and you want more.

“There?” The shadowsinger murmurs, repeating the action. Your moan is louder this time.

“Can you…” Already, you’re panting, but he’s not…not close enough. You grab his hand again, and you’re moving it back to your waistband. To the button on your breeches.

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t need to be experienced to know what you’re asking from him. Sure, he could probably do this through your clothing, but surely skin-to-skin is better for his experience.

That’s what your selfish mind is telling you, anyway.

“You don’t mind?” Az asks. “I appreciate your help, but…I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything—”

“Azriel.” You clasp the back of his neck. “I really, really do not mind.”

For him, it will always be about making sure that you’re positive.

Your needy expression must tell him that you are.

You capture his mouth with yours, and this time, the moan comes from him. Kissing seems second-nature to him already. This one is fast and passionate and desperate, and yet he leans into it, gives himself to it entirely.

You don’t know how long you kiss for, but it’s possible that Az needs the time to build up to the moment. To get the nerve to actually cross that line.

You don’t push him or rush him. If he decides that this can’t go any further, you’ll stop immediately. You can see to the ache between your legs yourself.

But then, as his tongue rolls with yours, you feel his fingers at that button. Azriel pops it open. Your breeches part.

You lift your hips a little — a small encouragement. Az follows it. His touch is warm against your skin. His fingers slip past the waistband.

He pulls back to look at you. And he rasps, “Tell me what to do.”

“You can’t do anything wrong,” you pant. “Just…explore.”

He nods. Nods again. Draws in a slow, steeling breath.

And then he explores.

Not once does he look away from you. Not once, as his fingers slip between your folds. You bite down on your lip, not wanting to startle him. This is about him. This is about him.

His fingers dip tentatively through your damp heat. He drags them upwards, drenching himself with your wetness.

“You’re soaked…” He seems surprised by the fact. As though it’s unthinkable that your body would react in such a way to him. He explores more. “Really soaked.”

“Yes, Az.” You breathe. “That’s a good thing, trust me.”

He pauses his movements. And he’s entirely serious as he says, “I always trust you.”

And fuck, the sentiment makes you want to kiss him again, so you do. You yank him closer and slide your mouth onto his, and then his fingers are moving between your folds again.

They inch upwards with ease. And then one of those fingers is brushing over your clit.

You have no control over the way your hips jerk, bucking up into Azriel’s touch, or over the noise that rips from your throat.

Azriel pulls back to study you yet again. And repeats the action with more intent. “There?” He asks, and then adds, “Your scent reminds me of…of pears.”

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, but yes, gods, there.”

Once more, his finger presses against your clit, and you’re gasping. His head cocks slightly, like he’s genuinely intrigued by your reaction. He watches you closely as he begins to circle the sensitive little nub.

You’re not wholly aware of the fact that you’re tipping your head back — not until Azriel is guiding it forward with his free hand and fastening your eyes on his once again.

“Can you look at me?” He clears his throat. “I just—want you to look at me.”

You swallow, and you nod. And you stay looking at him.

Even as his finger circles your clit again, and you feel the sensation like a lightning bolt through your entire body.

The pleasure is shocking. Your hips buck up into the sensation, and it seems to reward Azriel with confidence. His hand moves into a steady rhythm, his palm seeming to cup you and rub against you as his finger works at your clit.

You will not last like this. You never do. The stimulation is far too much, and you’re writhing beneath him, already feeling that tight, warm coiling in your lower belly — the sign of imminent release.

“Fuck,” you pant, rocking against Azriel’s hand. “Gods, Az, I’m gonna—”

Your words are lost, swallowed by his mouth closing over yours. Azriel kisses you, and he begins to move his finger in quick, flicking movements, and you’re gone, gone, utterly fucking gone, your body a swirling, weightless form as stars burst behind your eyelids.

The climax hits you so thoroughly that you shout into Azriel’s mouth, and you're grabbing at his shirt, simply needing to hold onto something as your hips undulate, desperate for more of the sensations he’s wringing from you and yet so incredibly sensitive that your body is already beginning to tremble.

And the second Azriel notices that you’re shaking, slumping back down against the couch cushions, his fingers cease their movements. He tears his mouth from yours and drinks in your expression.

“Are you okay?” He breathes heavily. “Was that…good?”

Good did not come close to describing what it was. There’s something magic about those fingers that still linger between your folds. You’re sure of it.

“More than good.” You gasp, your head falling back. “I just…need a moment.”

He pauses, before slowly, gently, tugging his hand out of your breeches. You think a whimper leaves you at the loss of contact. It’s an effort not to grab his hand and put it right back where you want it.

But instead, Azriel moves it up to your face. He brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, and his chest is heaving as much as yours as he leans down and brushes his lips over your cheek — an affectionate gesture. One he’s done a thousand times before.

It kind of…rips you from the moment, just a little. Reminds you that this is your closest friend who’s hovering above you. Who’s just made you come so hard, you saw stars. Who’s only doing this to learn.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure — but you’re stopped in your tracks by the door bursting open behind you.

You and Azriel move away from each other just as Cassian waltzes in. His lip is stitched up, but there are fresh marks at his neck; ones he seems incredibly proud of. You quickly fasten the button on your breeches before he can notice.

“Sacha and I worked things out.” He announces with a shit-eating grin. And then he pauses. Frowns. “Why does it smell like pears in here?”

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

[d1xonss]

H EY could you possibly write a fic where the readers been on some heat the whole day just overall pissed, then there’s a fight outbreak in Alexandria and everyone crowding around & people calling Daryl so he comes, just to realise it’s his girl and he has to restrain her, pulling her away so she doesn’t continue beating the shit out of whoever and she’s MAD so he has to calm her down and gets her to just talk to him so he can help her. Just a thought yk 😛

Sticks and Stones

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3k

AN ~ I like this idea a lot! Just the thought of Daryl helping her clean up and take care of her after something like this just makes me melt. ps- Sorry for the inactiveness lately, April has already been such a crazy month for me and I've sadly had little to no time to write. But I'll definitely start getting back on track soon. Hope you enjoy!

The weather was hot, sticky, and humid. Your hair was a frizzy mess, sticking up everywhere as you worked in the miserable weather. You were sweating in places you didn’t even think were possible to sweat from. Bottom line was, you were miserable.

The bad mood that was embedded in you only seemed to grow as the day dragged on longer and longer. It was bad enough that your group joined this new community in the first place, having to live with all of these complete strangers after everything you had been through with your family. But what seemed to make it even worse, was this community had some high expectations upon your arrival. The leader, Deanna, made it very clear that she wanted each and every one of you working like dogs in order to do your part just like everyone else.

Meanwhile her sons were sitting in their air conditioned houses without lifting a damn finger.

Though you didn’t mind putting in the work, in fact, that was all you did your whole life. You were never handed a damn thing, needing to learn to find your own way in life and work for everything you got instead of being spoiled rotten. But again, you didn’t mind. The only thing that bugged you was that there were clearly a few favorites that got special treatment. Though you weren’t just talking about Deanna’s sons.

For the past couple of days you had been scheduled to work with a small group of others that you tried to play nice with. And for the most part, they all seemed friendly enough, willing to pitch in and do the part they were told to complete. Everyone…except for this one bitch who seemed to love getting a rise out of you.

You didn’t know her name, you couldn’t be bothered to learn it. But that didn’t mean the urge for punching her in her stupid, fake ass face wasn’t growing the longer you were in the same vicinity. She didn’t do a damn thing other than tell every other person what to do. And she always seemed to make it her mission to get under your skin at least once a day to really add to your sour mood, really wanting to see how far she could push you. But you, of course, always did nothing. It’s not because you weren’t capable of defending yourself, but you knew even one screw up could get you, and possibly the rest of your family kicked out of here.

You didn’t want to take that chance. After all, this whole opportunity and hard work was the chance to prove that you were all worthy to stay within the thick, sturdy walls they had built. You didn’t want to screw it up for yourself, but you especially didn’t want to screw it up for anyone else. Which is why you kept to yourself for the most part, only smiling politely to the ones who showed you even an ounce of kindness as they passed by with a friendly greeting. Other than that your eyes just stayed down, in hopes that somehow the day would go by faster that way.

You and a few others were currently in the large garden that was placed practically directly in the middle of the community, instructed to pick the fruits and vegetables that were ripe enough to bring back to the pantry. The job was simple enough, knowing that when this last basket of yours was full, you would take everything back, wash them off, and place them in the right sections before finally heading back to your new home. You could practically hear the cool shower calling your name from all the way over here.

Though subconsciously, your gaze traveled up a few different times to keep an eye out for Daryl, seeing if he was maybe passing the area. You didn’t necessarily know the job he was given for the day, but what you did know was that it was hot as fuck outside. And seeing Daryl with his arms exposed, the signature leather vest, and sweat glistening off of him…the sight would surely make your day ten times better than how it was going.

But everytime you did a subtle scan, he was nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t help but sigh a bit dramatically as all you wanted was to take him home and use that last bit of energy you had left.

“Hey!”

You were snapped out of your lustful daze suddenly when you heard a familiar voice from the other end of the space, seeing the one blonde bitch who wouldn’t get off your back, her face scowling into a glare.

You raised your arms up from your slightly crouched position, “What?”

“I can see you slacking off from all the way over here, get back to work!” she called with her hands sassily on her hips.

You sent her a bitter smile before ducking your head back down in attempts to pull yourself together, “Oh, I’ll get back to work.” you spoke under your breath, “Work on shoving this foot up your ass.” you grumbled as you began picking a few more ripe strawberries.

A few minutes of peace passed, moving down the line as you scanned for any more things that were ready to be picked off the vine. Your small basket sat by your feet as it was nearly filled to the brim with the amount of fruit you collected over the past hour or so. That is…until it wasn’t.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see someone’s shadow coming from your left as whoever it was seemed to just be passing by. But the sound of their foot coming in contact with the wooden basket right beside you is what caused your gaze to snap up, already knowing who the hell it was. Her blonde hair blowing behind her as she didn’t even stop to look at the mess she made was kind of a dead giveaway.

You shot up to your feet as annoyance began to quickly overtake you, causing you to open your mouth before you even got a chance to think twice. “What the fuck?” you called after her.

She turned around on instinct, as if she was expecting you to say something, a small smirk on her face as she shrugged. “What?”

You pressed your lips together as your annoyance grew, stepping up closer to her so you could keep the conversation quiet, “What the hell is your problem? You don’t think I can tell you’re doing this shit on purpose?”

“Oh I know you can.” she said with a bitchy tilt of her head, her arms coming to cross over her chest, “I’m just wondering when the fuck you’re going to get a clue.”

“Well, why don’t you just spell it out for me, because I’m getting pretty tired of dealing with the same bullshit from you.” you stated bluntly.

She scoffed, “You and your grubby little group don’t belong here.” she spat harshly, “None of you are what we need for this community, in fact, you’re only tearing us down. I don’t even know why Deanna let you people in here in the first place.”

Her words caused your eyebrows to fly up in utter surprise. You expected her to attack you, shoot insults directed toward you. But you never expected in a million years that she would have the audacity to go after your family the way she did with little to no reason at all. 

And in the end, that’s what pushed you over the edge as you laughed at her, not needing to come up with a single response as you had a few other things in mind.

Daryl was on the other end of the community, patrolling around the streets when he heard the sudden commotion. At first he couldn’t quite pinpoint what was going down, only seeing a swarm of people flooding toward one area where lots of shouts and panicked voices were coming from. Curiosity eventually got the better of him as his brows furrowed in confusion, his pace picking up as he approached the gardens, opening the white gates to step inside.

His eyes squinted as he could tell there was some sort of fight breaking out, the people surrounding them either cheering them on, or trying to rip them apart. He leaned from side to side, trying to see who was in the middle of it all as he silently prayed he was wrong about what he originally assumed. But then there was a small parting in the crowd, allowing him to catch a glimpse in between them, and his face dropped.

Some random guy was holding you back as you attempted to hit the blonde girl at the other end of the circle they created, clawing out of his grip every so often to get another swing in while she cried. Daryl then didn’t waste another second, harshly shoving his way through the crowd to get to you in attempts to stop you from doing anymore damage. It was almost like he couldn’t get to you fast enough, either that, or you were just quick when it came to nearly tearing her head off.

“Hey!” he shouted once he was close enough, pulling you out of the man’s grasp in attempts to hold you back himself, “Stop!”

You hardly even heard his voice, your ears ringing as you continued to try and pry his hands off of you, desperately trying to swing again as the woman sobbed. Her nose bloody and a bruise forming on her right cheek. She clearly couldn’t fight for shit considering she had such a big mouth.

Daryl groaned as he yanked you back harshly, “Damnit (Y/N), I said stop!” he shouted once more, his voice enough to silence everyone in an instant.

The familiar voice then finally registered with you as well, whipping your head around quickly to see him, smoke nearly coming out of his ears. Your face softened as you instantly came to the realization of the damage you just caused, the potential outcome of your actions suddenly terrifying you.

Your head shook slightly as you tried to speak, “I-”

“Get back to the house.”

His tone was firm, but somehow still held a bit of gentleness. You sighed as you took yourself out of his hold, not needing to be told twice as you slowly began to walk out of the crowded area. Now seeing the amount of people that witnessed your meltdown, you suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and die, feeling all their watchful eyes on you as Daryl quickly ushered you the rest of the way out. The last thing you barely caught a glimpse of, was a few others crowding around the blonde as she continued to cry her eyes out with her beaten face.

There wasn’t a single word spoken between the two of you. Just silence. And it was killing you.

He didn’t utter a word, only gesturing you into the bathroom for you to sit at the edge of the tub, before pulling out a first aid kid from the closet. Your brows furrowed in confusion as she hadn’t laid a hand on you, but then your eyes traveled down to your own hands, seeing how cut up and bloody they were. The pain hadn’t even registered to you, you hardly felt the sting at all as if your adrenaline was still pumping fast through your system.

Daryl wordlessly kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands with such softness in his touch as he cleaned you up with precision. You could tell he was trying to be as careful as he could, despite the fact that he was probably upset. Hell, the whole group would probably be upset with you for a while, over something that you could now never take back. Something that you could never undo. All because you couldn’t keep your head on straight.

You were forced to think about it even more as the silence only lingered, playing the imagines back over and over again in your mind. You wanted to say it was worth it, to see her actually get somewhat of a taste of her own bitter medicine, knowing now she would probably never fuck with you again. But the fate of the future, what would come next, still weighed heavily on you as it was clearly unknown.

You then sighed softly as you looked down at him, “I…I’m sorry.” your voice spoke barely above a whisper.

He nodded as he kept his eyes down, finishing up your left hand as he wrapped it in some bandages, “I know ya are.”

“You don’t know the things she was saying…what she’s been doing ever since we fucking got here. God…I know I shouldn’t have taken it that far, but that bitch got what she deserves, trust me.” you spoke bitterly, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him.

Daryl’s eyes then glanced up to you, a small smile on his lips as he nodded again, “I know.”

Your brows furrowed in both confusion and surprise, “You’re…you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked, his voice a lot more gentle than it was before. But then again you could only assume it was all just the heat of the moment.

You shook your head softly, “I don’t know…” you muttered, glancing down to your hands as you slightly examined them, mostly to avoid his eyes as you knew he would be able to see right through you.

And he did. His brows furrowed as a few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again, “Yeah ya do. You just don’t wanna say it.”

A heavy sigh passed through your lips as you looked back up at him, “I just…I know that doing that was a big mistake.”

His eyes softened as he heard the timidness in your tone, “Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart.” he said as he raised his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, “It’s alright.”

“No…that’s not what I mean.” you said with a shake of your head, “I…I fucked up…I fucked up everything. Once Deanna finds out what happened, once she finds out that we can’t work with her people, she’ll kick us out. And then we’ll be back on the road without any food, or water, or anything. We barely made it last time, I-”

“Hey.” Daryl interrupted you softly, raising his hands to gently grip your forearms, “What are ya talkin about? None of that’s gonna happen.”

“But she’s already weary of us, we’re the big, scary outside people. The second she realizes that we won’t be able to fit in here, there’s no way she’ll let us stay.”

The man in front of you couldn’t help but smirk, which at first confused you, but then you found yourself rolling your eyes. “The big, scary outside people?” he repeated with a light chuckle.

You gave him a pointed look, “This is serious.”

“I know, I know.” he assured, “But I also know you’ve been bustin yer ass damn near everyday tryin to prove that you can be trusted here. That we can be trusted here. So…I think right now, you just need to take a second and breathe…okay?”

You stared at him for a moment before swallowing a bit thickly and nodding your head, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm your nerves. It felt like your brain was scattered all over the place and you knew he was right in saying that you just needed to fucking chill out for a second. You still had your worries about the outcome, but for some reason the longer you looked at the man sitting in front of you, the more those thoughts started to disappear.

After a few moments of silence, you felt him gently squeeze your arms again as he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you, “Ya got pretty worked up back there, killer. And I don’t think this stress and worryin is helpin. We’re here for a reason…to have a fighting chance. And you just gotta trust that over time, everythin’s just gonna work itself out…no matter what.”

He was so confident in his words, it made you want to feel confident too. It made you want to believe that this would all pass, and you didn’t completely screw up this opportunity like you assumed. Though there was still something else on your mind.

“But what about the fight? I mean…I messed her up pretty bad.” 

He simply shrugged, “Good.”

Your eyebrows raised in slight shock, “What?”

“That bitch got what was coming to her. Truth is, ever since ya told me about what’s been goin on, I’ve been dyin for ya to knock some damn sense into her. If anything, I wanted to cheer you on.” he winked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Well, you always have been my biggest supporter…” you trailed off as you looked down toward your hands again, “And the best doctor around.”

He hummed with a small smile before grasping your hands gently, raising them up to his mouth to leave a few kisses on the back of your bandaged knuckles as if to seal the healing process.

You smiled a little to yourself at his actions, “So…you really think we’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be just fine.” he muttered as he placed one final kiss on your skin, “It’ll breeze over, people will move on. Cause I think they all kinda know she was the problem to begin with.”

“God, I hope so.” you scoffed, “And even though I kinda lost it…it felt good.” you admitted almost a bit sheepishly.

He chuckled as he pulled at your hands a little, helping you stand back up to your feet as he did, “Looked pretty good too.” he confirmed as he held you close, placing a kiss on top of your head. “I think you could use some kinda award for doin that.”

You smirked as you looked up at him, “Well…I could use a massage.”

He smiled right back at you as he nodded, “Done.”

~ Thanks for reading!

[spellboundstarlet]

KATE MARTIN X PREGNANT WIFE READER

word count; 640 words.

authors note; i love love love feedback!! please come into my inbox and tell me what you think, it really helps to motivate me!

— cried when you told her. tears of joy of course, the two of you had been expecting it. the treatment was bound to work at some point, and if it didn’t, you’d adopt. holding the pregnancy text in hand, you’d cried as well.

— you had recorded your reactions as the test was flipped over. just for the memories, not to post. the pregnancy was not nearly ever posted, you preferred to keep these nine months all to yourselves. the public knew that the kate martin and her wife were expecting their first child, but it wasn’t found out until you were almost ready to give birth. once the baby was born, you tried to keep their face and name out of the media as much as possible. you and kate only wanted this baby to have the most normal life they could have.

the most you’d post, was pictures where you bump was not shown.

— nearly always had her hand on your stomach. everywhere you went, kate stood next to you holding onto you protectively. if you wanted space, your wife stood not too far away, but far enough to keep you happy. in addition to always touching your belly, she’d kissed it all of the time. she truly couldn’t believe it was finally real.

— kate just hopes for a healthy baby, not specifically a boy or a girl. but, when you found out the gender of the baby, the girl was over the moon. you were having a boy. every second she got, she rambled on and on about how good this would be for her nephew, carson. one of the greatest joys of the pregnancy was watching your wife hold carson in her arms and tell him about how his new cousin would be his bestfriend.

— every morning your wife sat on the side of the bathtub, holding back your hair and rub her hand on your back attempting to soothe you. she wishes morning sickness wasn’t a thing at all :((

— cooked for you every night, and every morning. always making or buying what you craved. her cooking wasn’t great, but you never wanted to hurt the poor girls feelings. so the two of you spent lots of time eating out. the thought was what counted after all.

— kate was forever thankful that carson had provided her with practice, and that she had awesome role models that gave her many tips. of course, you’d wake up late in the night to pee, and you’d find the blonde in the living room tiredly watching videos on how to swaddle or burp a baby.

“kate, baby, come back to bed. give the teddy bear a rest. you’ve got six months.”

— speaking of late nights, the girl would sit next to you with her hand on your stomach trying to feel some sort of kick. she couldn’t help but feel jealous that you’d always get to have the extra closeness to the baby during these nine months. and that you’d always be the first to feel the kick. but times like these, she cherished, it helped you to share the experience with her.

— after the six month mark, and your bump had grown larger, kate did everything for you. she took care of everything, cleaning, preparing the nursery, and she still had time for her career. the girl was constantly doting on you, showing how much she truly loved you. no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to do this all, she’d insist.

— and once your child is born, it’s born somehow looking like the perfect mix of both of you, even though you knew that wouldn’t be possible. funny how you carried this baby for nine months, yet he is just as sassy as kate.

divs by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged + anons are on. taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin. comment to be on taglist!!

[tonyspank]

Tony....please make me an angsty-romantic, JO or JO character x Fem!Reader one shot! You decide who it fits more. With a good ending, please!

I'm currently listening to Waves by Calpurnia.... this song is so mesmerizing.

My request would be based on that, but it's okay if you don't want to do it!

Hope you are eating well, Thank you so much!

-🎸

HOLD ON

Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: “I don’t want to die.”

Warnings: Cancer, gunshot, blood, violence, and let me know if there’s anymore.

A/N: thank you so much for this request anon! i hope you enjoy, although im not very good at angst 💔

Jenna’s not famous in this & also! this was heavily inspired by jbs music video !!

1.7k words

$13,892, the minimum amount the doctors told you Jenna's treatment would be. $14,283, the amount you were quoted by a second hospital for the same treatment.

The problem? Jenna has no insurance.

Jenna has no insurance, and you have no money. You saw the look on your girlfriend's face when you were given these estimates, and you knew she practically gave up right then and there. You promised Jenna you would find a way to cover the cost, no matter what it took. But you have no idea where to begin.

That was three weeks ago.

Jenna was your best friend, your companion, and your girlfriend, and you can't bear to see her suffer without the treatment she needs. But with only two months until the deadline, you still have no idea how you'll ever be able to afford the medical attention she needs.

You sit on the floor of your bedroom, your back against your bed frame, and a hand covers your face. You take a deep breath, but it does little to soothe the tightness in your chest. You feel lost, helpless, and hopeless.

But you know one thing for sure: No matter what happens, you'll do anything and everything you can to help Jenna.

Jenna stirs in her sleep, awaking you from your thoughts. You quickly wipe away a tear before she opens her eyes. You know that you have to stay strong for her, no matter how overwhelmed you may feel.

When she opens her eyes and looks around, her gaze finally meets yours. Her smile is weak, and you can see the pain behind her eyes. She holds her hand out to you, and you quickly take it, kissing it softly and pressing her palm against your cheek.

"Good morning." She says, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"Hi." You reply, leaning forward and kissing her lips gently. Jenna's lips are cold and dry, a stark contrast to the warmth of her hand in yours. You try not to think about how much pain she's in.

"What are you doing sitting on the floor?" She asks you, her eyes searching yours for an answer. You smile softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I wanted to be closer to you." Jenna's eyes soften, and a small, grateful smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

But it soon fades away, replaced by a look of sadness. "You should get some sleep," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I know you've been up for hours."

You feel a lump form in your throat, knowing that she's trying to protect you even in her own pain. "I can't." You admit.

"I'm okay." She mutters, but you know she isn't. She can barely move her left arm. Her breathing is labored, and she's so pale, it's like she's lost all her color.

"You're not okay."

"No." She agrees, looking down at her hands. "But I will be. Please, Y/N, get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up." You finally relent, knowing that she's right. You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead before climbing into the bed next to her.

"I'm scared." She admits it quietly.

"I am too." You tell her, pulling her close. "I promise I'll be here for you every step of the way," you whisper, feeling her body relax against yours. "We'll get through this together."

With those words, she closes her eyes, finding tranquility in your presence as you both drift off to sleep, holding onto each other tightly.

Your dreams have been the same for a few days, almost as if you were reliving your life with Jenna. The memories are always happy, and they help distract you from the reality of the situation.

You dream about the day you met her. It was on the late afternoon on a beach in Los Angeles, with the waves going back and the sun rising and falling. You were just wandering along the shore, looking at the scenery and the people.

She was sitting on a large rock, looking out over the ocean, her feet in the water, and the sand beneath her. You remember seeing her from a distance and being immediately drawn to her.

So, you walked towards her, not knowing what you were going to say, or what you were even going to do. "Can I help you?" She asked, turning her head and giving you a smile.

You felt a rush of nerves as you approached her; she was gorgeous, and her smile was captivating.

That wasn't the only day you spent together. Every weekend, you would meet on that beach. Sometimes, you would go out for dinner, and sometimes you would just spend the whole day together.

But now, it was hard for Jenna to leave the apartment, let alone walk on the beach.

You had been dating for three years, and now she was in your apartment, her illness was getting worse, and your money was running low. You were struggling to balance taking care of her and working long hours to pay for her medical bills.

Another week had passed. Jenna had gotten worse, the chemotherapy was taking a toll on her body, and the medical bills were piling up faster than you could keep up with.

You were barely making enough to cover her medication and hospital costs, and the stress was beginning to affect you. You had been working nonstop, barely getting any sleep, and you were starting to feel run down.

You were losing hope. The deadline was only a month away, and you had no idea how you would manage to come up with the money. You had tried everything, but nothing seemed to be working.

Jenna was fading away right in front of your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing her. She was the love of your life—the one person who made you feel alive. She had been the only person to truly understand you, and the thought of losing her was like a dagger in your heart.

You were sitting in your garage , surrounded by all the tools and equipment you had collected over the years. Your eyes fell on an orange plastic gun sitting on a workbench, gathering dust. It was a toy gun that Jenna had given you as a joke, but now it could be the key to your plan.

You picked it up along with a can of black spray paint, determined to do whatever it took to save Jenna. You carefully painted the gun, and once it dried, you tucked it into your waistband.

Jenna's last words before she was admitted to the hospital echoed in your mind.

I don't want to die.

It was a cold, rainy night. You were dressed in all black, the orange toy gun was tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, and your motorcycle helmet was securely fastened under your arm. Your hands were shaking as you gripped the gun. You were nervous, and you knew the consequences of what you were about to do.

But you couldn't let fear stop you. Jenna's life was on the line, and you were willing to do whatever it took to save her, even if it meant risking everything. With a deep breath, you stepped toward the bank teller, sliding her a note demanding the money and making it clear that you were armed.

The teller looked at you in shock but quickly complied with your demands, giving you the money. You quickly stuffed it into a bag, keeping the plastic gun hidden in your pocket as you quickly walked toward the back exit where your bike was parked.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out , causing panic to erupt in the bank. The security guard sprang into action, blocking your path to the exit. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you shoved him into a nearby table and made a run for it, jumping onto your bike and speeding away as police sirens wailed behind you, knowing that you had to escape quickly before they caught up to you.

You weaved through traffic, trying your hardest to escape from the multiple police cars chasing after you, their sirens blaring. It was a dark and stormy night, and you were driving through the streets of the city, the rain pouring down heavily. Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Abruptly, a car pulled out in front of you, causing you to slam on the brakes. You looked around and realized you were surrounded by police cars with no way out. The officers approached with their guns drawn, ordering you to put your hands in the air.

Your hands stayed on the handles, the gun pressed against your leg, and a lump formed in your throat. There was no way out. You were trapped, and there was no way you would escape.

A shot rang out, causing you to flinch and close your eyes in fear. When you opened your eyes, there was blood seeping through your hoodie, and you felt a sharp pain in your side. You never really understood the meaning of flight or fight until that moment, but now it was clear - you had to fight for your life.

Your survival instincts kicked in, and you made a split-second decision to make a run for it, ignoring the pain and speeding past the officers. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears as you accelerated towards the familiar streets you had taken nearly hundreds of times.

Your bike sputtered to a stop as you reached your destination, sirens getting closer and closer. You stumbled off the bike and ran through the hallways of the distinct building, clutching your bleeding side and pushing past startled onlookers.

You could see Jenna's room number at the end of the hallway, and you knew you had to reach her before it was too late. You burst into the room, and relief flooded your body when you saw her sleeping peacefully.

"Y/N?" She whispered, slowly opening her eyes. Her voice was weaker than ever, and her skin was pale.

You rushed to her side, tears streaming down your face as you laid your head on her shoulder. "I'm here, Jenna," you choked out, holding her hand tightly. "I love you."

Jenna weakly squeezed your hand, her head slowly turning to the doorway where the police stood, waiting to take you away. "I love you too," she said softly, her eyes filled with tears.

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[iwritefandomimagines]

I COULD KISS YOU — GREG HOUSE

masterlist

pairing: greg house x reader

description: when an offhand comment to praise house for helping you diagnose a patient leads to the silent treatment, you’re both forced to confront the feelings that had been lingering unspoken for too long.

warnings: swearing, angst to a teeny bit of fluff, may be a lil ooc as i’m still iffy on fleshing out how i write the house characters but i’m trying <3

author’s note: had this idea and got excited so bashed it out quite quickly while i was motivated af — hopefully you enjoy !!! let me know what you think

“Gregory House, you bloody genius,” you exclaimed, clenching your fists in excitement, unable to stop the words that came flying out next, “I could kiss you!”

You’d been trying to diagnose your patient for nigh on a week now, and with the young boy’s symptoms rapidly progressing and his condition rapidly worsening, House’s diagnostic expertise provided exactly the breakthrough you needed.

You were ecstatic — mentally piecing together just how he had to be correct — and so without another word you practically skipped out of his office to run some tests and reach the certainty needed to treat the boy as soon as possible.

What House had suggested made perfect sense, accounting for every symptom and every adverse reaction to the treatments you had tried so far, and though you usually mocked his tendency to always smugly assume he was right, at present you were immeasurably grateful for his input.

You were disappointed, then, when you rushed to tell him that the young boy was responding incredibly well to the treatment he suggested and he simply gave you his smug “I-told-you-so” smile and rushed away from you.

He didn’t speak to you again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to actually take time to visit his patients rather than deal with encountering you again.

“What did I do to piss House off?” you asked Cameron, Foreman and Chase shyly as you stood near the nurse’s station with them.

They all just eyed you like the answer was obvious, but Chase shrugged, “When has anyone ever needed to actually do something to piss him off?”

“No, he won’t even talk to me right now,” you frowned, brows furrowed, “It’s weird. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong since this morning.”

The group all looked between eachother, as though deciding who would be the one to have to tell you the honest truth.

“Probably something to do with your little ‘I could kiss you’,” Chase replied, doing a terrible impersonation of you and batting his eyelids flirtatiously as he quoted you, “He didn’t seem to like that very much.”

Your mouth was parted in confusion, “Firstly, I do not sound like that. But secondly, why would he give me the silent treatment for that? Is the idea of kissing me that repulsive?”

Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You’re both as oblivious as each other, Y/N… He’s ignoring you for literally the opposite reason.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

Was she seriously trying to tell you that House was ignoring you because he didn’t like you joking about kissing him?

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s literally painfully obvious, Y/N,” Foreman groaned, “You’ve had this weird sexual tension going on forever and given that he’s usually bad at giving a damn about people, he gets weird about you. And he obviously has feelings for you, so it rubbed him up the wrong way.”

Chase chuckled, “They’re right. He’s only mad at you because you’re the only person he’s never mad at but you hurt the feelings he apparently has.”

You pondered what he was saying for a moment, trying to piece together whether there was any semblance of truth behind their explanation for House’s weird behaviour.

Truth be told, it was the exact kind of petty and ill-fitting behaviour you’d expect from House.

For such a brilliant man, he could be utterly childish at times, especially if he wasn’t getting his way.

Your relationship had always teetered on the edge of professionalism — he was always making flirtatious comments, he always took your suggestions on board more than the others, always sung your praises to your peers and superiors.

Whilst everyone else was certain it was proof of his feelings for you, you had just thought he appreciated that you never pried into his life unless he offered to divulge information himself, and you were excellent at your job.

Of course, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed your ambiguous relationship, given the crush you had harboured since very early on in your acquaintance. That’s why you always flirted back, always made sure your input was carefully though out, and why you were always singing his praises too.

But it was Greg House — a man who so famously behaved as though he didn’t care about anyone. So of course you didn’t think that things would ever progress past your unprofessional professional relationship.

“Where is he?”

“In his office,” Cameron smiled, “He told me to make sure nobody bothered him, and I think he meant you because he’s still throwing his toys out of the pram.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “God, he’s ridiculous. I’m going to go and talk to him. Or try, anyway. Wish me luck.”

“Is this House we’re talking about?” Dr. James Wilson made an appearance at your side now, his brow quirked in curiosity as he butted into the conversation.

You nodded, “He’s being a baby instead of actually talking to me about why he’s mad.”

You hoped he’d have some kind of more concrete explanation, given that he was the only person House was even remotely honest around.

“He’s hardly an expert at talking about his feelings, is he? Or having them, actually,” Wilson chuckled, “But he’s been grumbling all day. Please do go and speak to him. For my sanity’s sake, if not your relationship’s.”

“Slow down, Wilson,” you scoffed, but though you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at any sort of reference to you and House’s potential relationship, “I’m going!”

You entered the room without even knocking, folding your arms over your chest with a stern expression on your features as you strode towards his desk and stood firmly in front of him.

“I’m busy.”

“Busy being petty and ignoring me?”

He looked up now, narrowing his eyes as he realised you were not going to meekly scuttle away like you had done every other time he’d dismissed you today.

“What makes you think that?” sarcasm dripped from his words, “I just so enjoy spending time getting to know my patients and doing paperwork!”

You huffed out a sigh, frustrated by him already trying to dodge the subject, “Greg.”

“Y/N.”

“Greg!”

“Y/N!” he matched your tone just to challenge you, and you scoffed, “Are you really going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“So deliberately evasive?”

His lips drew together in a thin line as he eyed you carefully, “How’s your little boy from this morning?”

“You are so fucking frustrating, Greg,” you scowled, “Can we have an adult conversation here?”

He appeared to ponder over another joke to make, but apparently for the first time in his life thought better, as he remained silent and waited for you to continue.

“I’ve been so stressed out about that kid, and you helped me to help him massively — he’s likely to be discharged by tomorrow. I was so happy, so relieved, and I said I could kiss you,” you began, avoiding his gaze at first until your final sentence, “And it was a silly offhanded comment about how grateful I was, but at the same time I honestly could’ve kissed you because I quite honestly want to a lot of the time.”

Oh my God — you’d stunned the Greg House into silence?

Your breathing was jagged, “I don’t know if you’re just being an ass because you don’t like being on the other end of jokes, or if the team actually aren’t just blind hopeless romantics and you actually care about me. But I just wish you’d talk to me instead of doing all this and making me feel like you don’t care at all.”

He pulled himself up onto his feet, grabbing his cane to lean on as he inched closer to you.

“It’s a bit of both,” his voice was low, and you were sure that if you didn’t know him better you might believe him to be shy about telling you the truth, “I’m not good at caring, and I don’t usually like caring, but I guess I do. Sue me!”

You took another step forward, so that you were so close you were breathing right in each other’s faces.

You were trying to be brave and command the conversation, but your stomach was doing backflips as it dawned on you that what he meant was that he really did feel the same about you.

“Why would you go silent on me then instead of talking to me about it?” you bit your lip as you spoke, and caught notice of how his eyes trailed to your lips as you did so.

He swallowed thickly, “Didn’t feel right to. Hardly professional, is it?”

“Oh, because you’re the picture of professionalism usually aren’t you?” you laughed dryly.

“Point taken,” he shrugged, “Maybe I was little scared. And we’ve got a good thing going, it’s a risk pushing things any further.”

You weren’t happy with that, not when this was Greg House — king of taking risks and breaking rules — and you were certain that it was a risk worth taking anyway.

“When has risk ever stopped you?” you asked, whispering now as your eyes darted between his and his lips whilst he mirrored your behaviour.

“Point also taken,” he mumbled, before finally taking the plunge and bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss that you leaned into immediately.

He quickly leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you to stand between his parted legs.

You pulled back, suddenly aware that anyone could come in at this moment and see you — and whilst the biggest risk here really was endless teasing from the team or a scolding from Cuddy, you did still have some things to discuss too.

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, overcome with giddiness at what had just happened, but you wanted to make your feelings clear; Even if it was to a man who would probably make a jokey remark and underplay his own feelings.

“I don’t know your relationship history, and I don’t care to,” you shrugged, moving your hands to your hips but hardly moving away from him, “Well, I’m not rushing to. I can assume it’s not great, but I just want to take every day as it comes and see where things go because mine isn’t great either. I’m not gonna hurt you, Greg.”

The sincerity in his eyes as he gazed up at you made your heart melt, and you could tell that somehow, some way, you had gotten through to him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t be certain that you’ll keep, Y/N,” he mumbled, before shaking off his own words and standing back up to stare into your eyes intently, “But fine. Because it’s you, I’m willing to try. Provided there’s more of this,” he kissed you again before continuing, “And less of them ogling and concocting their little romantic stories about the lovely doctor Y/N and her damaged old fool.”

You turned around to see the entire team peering through the window, all smiles and whispered chatter at the sight before them.

You raised your middle finger to them, turning back to look at House and stepping back a little from him.

“Unfortunately, those nosey fuckers are not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, “If you’re willing to try then we’re going for dinner. Tonight. And we’re going to have a good time, and not talk about this place or about anything you don’t want to.”

He nodded, “I’ll pretend I’m not furious you’ve robbed me of making the grand romantic gesture of being the one to ask,” he cocked his head as he joked, truthfully very much pleased you were the one to ask and confirm that your interest in him was genuine, “But sounds good to me. I’ll wear my nicest tux, eh.”

“Yeah, yeah, ha ha,” you hummed, “Now I’ve got a living patient to go and visit thanks to you. Enjoy your afternoon with that lot,” you gestured to your friends, who were all still stood there watching you, “Good luck. Oh, and pick somewhere to book for us to eat. That can be your grand romantic gesture, hm.”

“Gee, thanks,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” you grinned, swanning out of his office with the biggest smile possible painting your features.

You nudged past your friends as they watched you walk down the corridor, happier than they had probably ever seen you in the time that you’d known them.

They immediately filed into House’s office when you were out of sight, and his head fell back in irritation for a moment despite the smile still gracing his lips.

“Things went well, then?”

“Go away,” he replied, “I’m in a good mood for once, and you idiots aren’t going to ruin that, alright?”

“Woah, okay,” Foreman laughed, “Who are you and what has Y/N done with Greg House?”

———

thanks for reading !!! i hope enjoyed and this wasn’t too ooc lol. let me know what you though pleaaase & if you’d like — feel free to request!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[cowgurrrl]

Little Wind

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author’s note: we are so fucking back dude

Summary: Caught out [1.6k]

“I don’t know what we need to talk about, Marnie.” You say as you walk into your apartment and throw your car keys in the dish by the door. You told her you would call her once you weren’t navigating icy roads which was partly true. You also just needed a second to prepare yourself for this conversation. “He’s a good dad. He helped out with my field trip to the McNay. I have no worries about Ellie’s safety if that’s what this is about.”

“What happened at the winter showcase?” She asks, her tone sharp. Was she there? If she was, she didn’t talk to you or make herself known. Fuck. There’s no way this can be about what you think it’s about. You’ve been careful. Going out of your way to go somewhere far away from the school and any students that might appear out of nowhere. There’ve been a few times where you’ve been a little reckless but you had it under control.

“Ellie had an anxiety attack. I sat with her and her dad in the stairwell until it passed.” You say, attempting to shrug off the cloud of worry that’s settled on your shoulders.

“And the visits to your classroom almost every week?”

“Jesus, are you spying on me?” You breathe a laugh but she doesn’t humor you. She only waits for a response. “My projector’s been broken and he’s trying to fix it for me since my work orders keep getting denied. Is there anything else I can confirm or deny for you?” You ask, glancing at your half-finished canvas as you pace. You can’t sit still. Not when she’s calling you during your break and interrogating you. She sighs and you can imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose.

“If administration finds out about this-“

“Finds out about what? My broken projector?”

“That you’re sleeping with one of your student's parents.” Your back molars buzz at her words and a wave of nausea hits you. You shake your head and take a deep breath.

“That’s not funny. You could get me fired for saying things like that.”

“Oh, c’mon, honey. This may be a big city but people talk like it’s a small town,” she says. You feel caught but you don’t want her to know that. “She’s good. She could go to State and win scholarships. But if the judges find out that you gave her any special treatment because of your relationship with her dad, not only will they fire you but you will ruin any chance she has at getting better.”

“This is ridiculous.” You say and she huffs on the other line.

“No, what’s ridiculous is the thought that you’d put your students’ well-being at risk so you can fuck around with a parent. Did you ever stop to think how Ellie might react if she finds out about this? How this might affect her?” She asks like you’re stupid. Of course, you have. It’s been the idea pressing on your brain since before the field trip.

You just never thought it’d get this far.

You think it’d break her heart if she found out. You think she’d curse and scream at you and you’d deserve it. You think she’d never want to see you again or worse, never want to make art again. The world needs Ellie’s art even if she doesn’t know it yet. And you fucked it up.

“You have until Spring Break to either break up with him or say something to Martinez.”

“Or what?”

“I will.” She says with alarming clarity.

“You know, it’s been really nice talking to you, Marnie, but I’ve gotta go do some lesson plans.” You hang up before she can respond and practically throw your phone away from you. Your head swims and you have to clutch the back of a chair to steady yourself.

What the fuck? How did she even find out? She saw you once at Whataburger months ago and now she has eyes and ears watching you? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You need to tell Joel or cut contact entirely. At this point, you don’t know which is the right option. You don’t make enough money from the bar and commissions to stop teaching. You’re only on the second step of submissions for a gallery and you haven’t even finished the paintings you want to send them. And Marnie’s right, Ellie is really good. She got second place at the showcase, which didn’t surprise you, and now she has the opportunity to get her own small exhibition if she sends in her work soon.

You can’t do this. You shouldn’t have ever done this. You shouldn’t have let him into your life. You shouldn’t have put your phone number in his phone or let him sit at your bar or fucking beg him to come over like you did barely a week ago. You should’ve kept your head down and done your lesson plans and art history lessons like the good, perfect teacher you’ll never be.

You don’t know what to do with this heavy feeling in your chest, guilt and anger, and a sense of loss swirling around your ribs until you look at the lone empty canvas lying on your kitchen table. It’s the last unpainted one you have and probably the last one you’ll be able to afford for a little bit. You were saving it for something special but you can’t wait for special anymore. You have to get this out.

Without thinking, you grab the first paints your hands touch and walk out to your balcony. There’s already no way you’re getting your deposit back so you might as well make it worth it. You haphazardly put up a cloth behind the canvas before you start taking literal handfuls of paint and throwing it. Reds, purples, lumpy, half-dried-out blacks, and green splatter across the white, ruining the last bit of pure material that you had. The cold wind whips around your face and blows dust and even kicks up a few rocks that get stuck in the wet paint. Colors sprint down to kiss the pavement and leave a strange conglomeration of colors near your back door. You’re so caught up in the sloppy, angry dispersal of paint that you almost don’t realize you’re crying until a sob escapes your throat.

For the first time in a long time, you were so happy. Just deliriously, stupidly, dangerously happy. You let yourself relax and get comfortable and open up because it felt right only to be hit with the reminder that things like that aren’t reserved for you. You’ve consistently picked everyone else over yourself because that’s what teachers are supposed to do. Maybe Henry was right. Maybe you would’ve been much better suited to being the silent muse who wants for nothing. At least then you’d be able to pay your bills.

You slump onto the frigid concrete of your balcony, your paint-soaked hands shaking in front of you, and stare at the canvas. It has a weird texture from all the dirt and debris getting flown your way and the wind has made streaks in all different directions. The colors are objectively ugly together. They swirl and drip in mysterious and formless ways. It’s gritty There’s no story being told here. There’s no shape, no dimension, nothing. Your college professors would rip this to shreds if they could see it.

But the gallery might want it.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push yourself off the floor, scrub your freezing hands raw in the sink, wipe your tears, and send a picture of the painting to the gallery. You title the email “Something Different,” and quickly type out a message.

Hey,

Finished up some stuff today and thought you might like it. It’s something a little different. It’s called ‘Spring Break.’

You shoot out the email and turn off your phone, too anxious to watch your inbox for a response. You leave your canvas out to dry but bring in all your paint because you can’t afford to lose that much paint to the elements especially after you just finished heaping globs of it around. You don’t feel much better. You still feel the weight of Marnie’s words pressing on your lungs and the fizzing in your molars. You feel, ironically, like a girl in a painting you saw years ago.

You remember it was painted by Leighton sometime in the 1800’s. Although you can’t remember the exact historical details, you can see the painting clearly in your head. A bride and groom are stopped by a knight leaving their wedding ceremony after being showered with pink flowers. There’s a battle happening and they need the groom to join the fight. His new wife, young and dressed in white, watches the conversation and knows there’s nothing she can do. Her husband’s hand is already on his sword. He’s going to leave and die on the battlefield and she’s going to go home a widow. They’re both helpless and doomed to their obligations: him to his brothers in arms and her to her marriage.

You think you and Joel are doomed in the same way. There’s not a whole lot either of you can do to change your fate. Maybe if you had met him at a different time— maybe if the couple got married on a different day— things might have worked out for the better. You might’ve been happy. You might’ve had a minuscule chance at having something good for yourself.

But good fate never made for good art. You know this now. You feel it in your bones.

There is no other way.

[thetriplets3]

Hi I have a request! In Taylor's new song there's lyrics "in the world of boys, he's a gentleman" could you do something about matt or chris with it??

❝𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧❞

matt was the first person to show me what love looked like. i had only been in one relationship that lasted 5 months then he “got bored” and started seeing someone before he even broke up with me.

i had my fair share of blind dates my friends insisted on setting me up with but none of them left me feeling loved. i always felt like an afterthought on these dates. they walk in the restaurant and head to a table leaving me trailing behind like a lost puppy. they’d spend the whole night talking themselves and finding a way to make it about them barely letting me get a word in, and they’d always ask for separate bills. those were the better of the dates. some of them would text me all day telling me how excited they were to see me and as soon as it came time for our date i was met with radio silence. i sat at countless tables repeatedly telling the server “he should be here soon”. i was embarrassed to be in this situation, especially since it isn’t the first time it’s happened.

there were plenty of times guys showed they were really just boys.

the last date i was on the guy wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant, saying i deserved to be given the best treatment. that was a lie. i’d been waiting in this high end restaurant alone for nearly an hour waiting. all my texts to him asking where he was got left on read. i was feeling self conscious, suddenly aware of everyone giving me pitiful looks, i don’t belong here i stand out like a sore thumb and it’s very obvious i’ve been stood up. my phone buzzed, causing me to immediately pick up my phone hoping he’d finally texted me back. a sigh escapes my lips when i see it’s a text from nick checking in on me.

nick

sooo how’s mr fancy treating you??

me

he ain’t shit. i’ve been waiting for him for almost an hour i feel like an animal at the zoo being stared at this is fucking embarrassing

nick

wtfff that’s horrible i’m so sorry. men suck

me

correction boys suck

nick

i say give him 20 minutes, if he doesn’t show up by then, leave

✿

~third person pov~

what she didn’t know is that nick had mentioned her situation to his brothers and without hesitation, matt headed to his room and changed into nicer clothes. nick and chris weren’t shocked when they saw matt all dressed up and heading out the door without a word. they know their brother would do anything for that girl, which is why he told her to wait, knowing matt would be there in minutes.

she has been by their side since grade 4. her and matt have always been closer than she was with the other boys. they were the perfect pair, they were meant for each other, just too shy to say anything. they didn’t need to admit anything though, their feelings showed through their actions.

matt pulled up to the restaurant and quickly made his way in scanning the dimly lit room for her beautiful face. within seconds his eyes meet her heartbroken face. he practically sprinted towards her, out of breath and ready with a fake excuse as to why he’s late.

hearing heavy quick steps in her direction, the girl whips head up only to be met with the person she really wanted to show up. a smile replaces her frown as she gets up, shimmying the hem off her dress down, and meets matt’s open arms.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, chris hurt himself so i had to bring him to the hospital. i would have texted you but my phone died and i was too panicked to try and call you” he says loud enough for people around to hear, before pulling her chair back to let her sit and tucking it in before seating himself. “once they saw chris i left and came straight here. i really didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. i’m sorry love” he says, eyes boring into hers with sincerity.

“that’s okay you’re here now. i’m glad you were there to help him” the girl said, playing along with his story.

after finally eating, he paid for their meals and led her to the exit of the building with a gentle hand on her lower back. before heading outside he took off his jacket and put it on the girl.

“it’s cold out” he softly started, before holding the door open for her as she walks out the door with a true smile and a growing blush on her cheeks.

“thank you matt you didn’t have to do that. i was perfectly okay with leaving and getting an uber” she said as she gave him a hug and placed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“you might have been okay with doing that but i’m not. you don’t deserve to get stood up and you got all dolled up i’d be mad at myself if i didn’t come here and just let you sit there even longer looking all pretty with no one there to appreciate you. i’d do anything for you in a heart beat, you know that” he said before holding her warm face in his hands, his eyes searching hers for approval. with a subtle nod and a glimmer in her eyes he wastes no time placing a sweet and loving kiss to her lips.

✿

~reader’s pov~

it wasn’t long after that night when matt asked me to be his girlfriend. he makes sure to show me everyday what it’s like to truly be loved. it’s the little things; subtly switching sides with me if we’re about to pass a group of creepy men or drunk boys; he’ll reach his hand behind him if he’s in the middle of a conversation or busy with something to hold my hand, letting me know he hasn’t forgotten about me; he always has extras of things i use often with him either in his car, his room or his backpack he’s got it. if my hairs bothering me and i forgot a hair clip or hair tie, he’s got one clipped to his bag and a hair tie around his wrist. if i need lip balm he’s got about 3 with him at any point, and he gets a taste of the strawberry lip balm each kiss, he can’t complain; knowing how clumsy and spatially unaware i am, any time i bend down to get something his hand is right there to stop me from bumping my head on it. he’ll brush my hair and attempt to braid it which usually ends up with him just playing with my hair, knowing how relaxing i find it. he can read me like a book he knows me better than anyone else and he’s always one step ahead of me, going that extra mile.

he makes me feel seen like no one has done before. i am his never ending thought, never an afterthought, like every boy made me feel like i was. matt has shown me what it’s like to be loved, i don’t know why i put up with being treated poorly for so long.

he’s a gentleman in a world full of boys

(not the lyrics but close enough)

taglist:

@antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld @strniolo @luvsturniolo

[storm-angel989]

Fighting For Control (Valentino x Employee Reader, Valentino x Wife Valentino x Daughter)

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING.

Eating Disorders. Eating disorder Treatment. Valentino.

Valentino sat off to the side and gazed at the stage. One by one, his dancers strutted down, swung their hips towards him and gave a smile. Casual dress was required for this particular cat walk. Despite being known as one of the most ruthless bosses of hell, he still needed to make sure his girls were healthy, and taking care of themselves. After all, it was just bad business to have his girls passing out in front of clients. He nodded in approval as each girl walked, seeming pleased until one of his dancers seemed to wobble down the stage.

A frown crossed his face. Reader. 

He knew when he hired her she would struggle with adjusting to a more comfortable lifestyle. And now as he took in her two loose braids, oversized sweater and jeans that he noticed last week were falling off her hips, alarm bells were ringing. He waited until the rest of the girls finished and then leaned over to the demon next to him. 

“I need reader in my office. Now. The rest of the girls are free to leave. And tell the nurse’s office to be on standby.”

Truth be told, he suspected when he hired her that she suffered from an eating disorder. Most of his girls did at some point in their careers. The majority of them came from a traumatic past, a life of fighting to survive. It was only to be expected that in this new line of work, the removal of that constant stress occasionally manifested in less than ideal ways. As he walked back to his office, he considered how he should handle this situation. In his early days, he would have simply forced her on the scale and if the number that flashed beneath his displeased him, he would have sent her off to the hospital for treatment, with the understanding that she could return only when she demonstrated progress. After all, he had a business to be concerned with, and an image to uphold. 

But now he had his own teenage daughter, one who struggled with her own issues surrounding food. Following her through therapy, working with her during family dinner time, and holding her as she cried because the little voice inside her head made her think she wasn’t good enough, would never be thin enough, pretty enough, had changed his entire perspective on both the illness and its treatment. He was thankful his experience in the field helped him catch his little girl before she was in as rough shape as reader clearly was, but his experience with someone he loved certainly made him a bit softer to his workers who were struggling. He took his seat in his chair as he considered his options. Separation of work and home- this wasn’t his daughter, or his wife. This was his employee. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show compassion to her- concern and care. After all, she was battling a monster he had only glimpses into. 

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Ah. Come in,” he called. He studied reader as she walked in. Her hair was back in two loose braids, a useless attempt to hide her hair loss. Her jeans were practically falling off her hips with each step she took. Her tee shirt and oversized cardigan were recognizable defense mechanisms- armor she was desperately trying to hide behind. He knew he needed to come from a place of concern, or he would be shut down instantly. 

“Take a seat muñeca, ” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. 

She did so reluctantly and her eyes averted his gaze. “Did I do something wrong, sir?” Her voice was soft. Frightened. 

“No, bebita. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I am concerned about you. Tell me the truth, doll. Is everything okay? Are the other girls treating you alright?” He asked. 

“Yes sir, they treat me fine,” she muttered. 

He considered how to approach this. Looking at the big picture, she was relatively new to him. She didn’t really know him or his methods. Softness, first, he thought was the best option. “You’ve been with me for how long now…three months?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you live in one of the flats with the other girls, yes?”

She kept her gaze down. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you finding the essentials sufficient? Your room, clothing, food?”

That got a reaction out of her. He watched as she switched to defensive mode at the mere mention of food. His heart sank. Part of him wished his suspicion was inaccurate, but her behavior simply confirmed his fear.

“Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Can I go now?” 

“You may not.” He stood up and pulled a scale out from his desk. “I’m noticing a concerning pattern of behavior, cariño. I need you to step on the scale for me, hm?”

The defensiveness overtook her. “No.”

He expected such a reaction. She needed to be reminded who was in control here- it was her best chance at survival. The red chains sprang forward and wrapped around her wrist, bringing her to him. 

“I own you. You will do what I say, when I say it. And that includes this. Understood?”

He watched the familiar battle unfold. Unlike his daughter, he had control over this demon. More of the ability to save her from herself. He released the chains and he nudged her to the scale- the one that wouldn’t flash the number on the base, and instead send the data directly to his phone. Another trick he learned with his daughter. Without another option, reader stepped on. 

He checked the digits that popped up on his phone. Valentino felt his stomach drop. The number was by far one of the lowest he had seen. Guilt spread through him, anger at himself and this illness. He should have been keeping a closer eye on her.  He only hoped the threat of his contract would be enough motivation for her to comply with treatment. Technically speaking, he could keep her alive. But there were parts of an eating disorder he couldn’t control.  

“Alright, babydoll. Step off,” he said quietly, sliding a hand under her arm. “And sit for me.”

Terror spread across her features. “What is my weight?”

Valentino looked at her evenly. “Too low for me to comfortably have you on my stage, bebita.”

“But what exactly is my weight?” she begged. 

“You need to let me worry about that, sweetheart,” he replied evenly. He knew better than to get combative. After all, he was the one in control here. Not her. And he certainly wouldn’t let her illness work its way in. “Let me be very clear with what will happen next.  I’m going to escort you down to the nurses office. From there, you will be hospitalized until that number is in the healthy range.”

Reader crossed her arms. “You can’t do that! I’m an adult!”

“Oh I can. I own you. Or have you forgotten that?” He leaned forward, “And I refused to let one of my most promising dancers starve herself into nothingness.”

“I eat, Valentino. I do! Please, just let me go home,” she begged. “Please! I’m fine! I swear!”

He looked at her softly. “You’re not fine. That much is clear. Come along now. I’m taking you whether you fight me the entire way or not.” 

Normally, he would have the nurse meet them with a wheelchair for a number that low, but she was already so frightened. His heart ached for her, for the pain she was going through both physically and mentally. He slipped his hand under her arm and guided her down the hallway. She seemed to shut down in his grasp, a quiet, fragile doll. 

“You will do what they say, you will eat what they tell you and you will not fight them, do you understand?” He asked once they were in the nurse's office. He sat her on the bed. “We’re going to get a gown on you. Arms up.” 

He carefully pulled back her sweater.  She sat stiffly, not actively fighting him but also not helping him in any way. He tugged off her t-shirt and bit back the gasp that threatened in the back of his throat. Emaciated wasn’t a strong enough word. 

He kept his touch gentle as he tied back the gown and helped her lay on the bed, but inside, anger bubbled. This disease, this illness was something he couldn’t eliminate, as much as he wanted to. He watched and listened quietly as the doctor as he came over and began to work over her. After a few moments, the doctor turned to Valentino. 

“Two thousand calories, through her nose to start,” the doctor said. “And we’ll get her into therapy right away.”

He wanted to tell the doctor to talk to her, not to him. But that illusion that he was in control, not her eating disorder, couldn’t be broken. Valentino turned to her and to his surprise, she looked furious.

“Five hundred. And no feeding tube.” She shot back. 

The doctor looked at Valentino and Valentino bit back a sharp word. It wouldn’t help anything for him to be angry.

. “This isn’t a negotiation. What the doctor says, goes. The only choice you have is if you take this willingly or we keep you too sleepy to fight.” 

His words seemed cold even to him, and he honestly suspected that that was an empty threat. He doubted her body could handle anything extraneous at this point. But by the expression on her face, she didn’t know that. 

“Valentino, no please,” she begged. “I’ll eat more, I promise.”

“Then prove it,” he replied sternly. He laid a gentle hand on her forehead, “I want to see next week's weigh in significantly higher.” 

Her tone hardened. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You do not.” 

“Fine.” 

Valentino watched as the doctor slid the tube into her, biting back the frustration that was building in his chest. Flashes of his own daughter being threatened with the same treatment raced through his mind.The threat was enough to scare her into his arms, sobbing and making the same promises. He was thankful she had kept her promise, and came home that day, willing to consume what the doctor prescribed. To an extent, of course- but they worked through it together.

Finally, once reader was settled, he watched as she closed her eyes. She had to be exhausted. He hoped she realized now that she was in a safe place, and they were on the same side, but he doubted it. Which was fine with him- he didn’t mind being the enemy for the time being.  

“Will she make it?” Valentino asked as they stepped out of the room. 

The doctor shrugged. “She should. She’s lucky you are so…attentive to your employees.” 

Valentino felt his expression harden, a mask to protect helpself and his reputation. “It’s bad business to not be. I’ll check in on her tomorrow. If she needs anything, let me know and take care of it the best you can in the meantime. I expect updates- this one shows promise on my stage.” 

And with that, he turned and walked out. The clock on his watch said five, and he needed to go home. Exhaustion swept over him, feelings of helplessness and the worry that that could have been his daughter. His wife. Both struggled with their own body issues. The desperate feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him. He checked both their vitals on the app he had synched to his phone. The numbers were fine, but just checking wasn’t enough. He needed to see them, needed them in his arms, and needed to make sure with his own eyes that they were safe. He walked from the elevator to the door of his wife’s office. He pushed open the door without a knock and closed it behind him. 

She looked up from her computer. He smiled as he took in the sight of her. Pretty blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun. Blue light glasses to prevent headaches. And an outfit that she could dominate the entire world in. 

 “Hey honey, what’s up?” She asked as she stood up. “Everything okay?” 

He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped her in his arms. “Just a long day.” Even to him, the words sounded flat. He pushed her head to his chest and held her against him for a heartbeat. He wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. At the moment, he just needed to hold her. 

She gave him a knowing look. “Mhm, sure. Bed tonight?” 

Of course she knew. He knew she knew. And she wouldn’t press the issue, not until he was ready. Or until bedtime. Whichever came first. 

“Is our baby princessa home or did she stay late at school?” He asked as he slowly released her. 

His wife pressed her cheek to his and gave him a nuzzle and a kiss. “She’s in her room last I checked. Why? Did she…”

“No, no. I just want to see my daughter,” he replied quickly. “Go back to work mi amore. So you can come home sooner.” 

She looked at him with concern. “You did have a rough day. Let me finish up, I’ll be home in an hour.” 

He gave her another kiss before letting her go back to her work, and he made his way upstairs to their own floor of the V tower. Their home they shared with his two best friends. Down her hallway, his daughter's door was closed and he hesitated for a moment but knocked anyway. He needed to see her, for his own sake.

“Baby Princessa? Are you awake?” 

“Daddy? Yeah come in, I'm working on my homework.” He heard her reply. 

He pushed open the doors of the once pink room. Now everything within reflected her current interests. Blacks. Grays. Reds. Purples. Not too different honestly than her Aunt Velvette’s. It was an adjustment, watching her grow from a little girl to a sullen teen, but he was grateful she had the support, love and anything else she needed.

“Hi bebita,” he walked over and kissed the top of her head. “How was your day?”  He expected to be met with sullenness, an implied go away, Dad, I’m busy, that so frequently laced her voice these days. 

To his surprise, she turned around and beamed. “It was long Daddy, but look I got an A on my Spanish test thanks to you!” She excitedly handed him the paper, “look! I even got the bonus words right!”

“Ah, pequeño amor, I am so proud of you! You did the work. Not me. But come here, give your papi a hug.”

She stood up and practically ran into his arms and jumped up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her for a moment, feeling her weight in his arms. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was okay. She was healthy. They still had plenty of time together to be sure they had stamped her eating issues early on in life.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

The sound of her concerned voice broke him from his thoughts. He gently released her. His daughter was okay, and she would continue to be okay. 

“Yes, bebita. Come on, let’s pause your homework. Mom should be home soon, and let’s grab Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox. We can go out to dinner and celebrate that A. How’s that sound?” 

“Deal! Thanks Dad!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him again. “Best Papi ever!” 

That he wasn’t so sure of, but he accepted the compliment anyway. 

At dinner that night, he watched how much she consumed. How she reacted to the arrival of dinner. He searched desperately for hints that her issues were making a headway. To his relief, he saw nothing- no sign that her illness was anywhere close to showing its ugly self. 

He laid in bed later that night, the weight of his wife’s head on his chest as he filled her in on the events of the day, his worries, his fears. His concern for both reader and his daughter. It felt good to get it all out, to have his other half to share life with. 

“I just, I wish I had acted sooner,” he finished. 

“But the doctor says he thinks she’ll be okay?” She asked as she pressed her lips to the center of his chest. “Then that’s what matters.”

“It could have been our daughter,” he said aloud. “I didn’t see any sign of it at dinner tonight, but it could have been her lying in that hospital bed. It could have been her so close to death.”

His wife sat up. “That’s really what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Not just the fact that you’re seeing your own employees- which lets admit, Val, you’ve started to give a damn about, but also seeing your worst fear for your own daughter blossom in front of your eyes.”

He nodded and followed ensuite. “I keep seeing that image of her, she was so thin it was terrifying. If I was even a week later…”

“But you weren't. You got reader into treatment on time, and are doing everything in your power to help her beat her illness. And, my love, our daughter is fine. We are doing everything we can to make sure that she continues to beat this. She’s in weekly therapy sessions, hell we haven’t had a dinner fight in almost two years.” She took his hands in his. “Val, you can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hated this, the lack of control The feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t used to this feeling- Valentino was all about control. 

“Babe, where are you going?” His wife asked. 

“To check on our daughter.”

He pushed open the door to her bedroom and to his relief, he saw her curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. He stood there for a second, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He looked at his phone for the second time that day. Her vitals were fine. She was fine. Reader would be fine. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and he looked down at his wife. 

“She’s as perfect as the day she was born,” his wife said softly. “Come back to bed, Val. She’s okay.” 

Valentino allowed himself to exhale and back in his own bed, he laid his head on his wife’s chest and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of her heartbeat to fill his ears. “Mi amore, why do the people in my life not see the beauty that I see in them?” 

“Val, I wish I knew the answer,” she replied tiredly as she held him. “But I don’t. But I can tell you that you’ve done enough for today, you did the right thing for reader, and you, my love, need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” She shifted herself under him and gripped him tighter. “I’ve got you. Now sleep.” 

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to wash over him. His wife was right. Reader would be okay, and his daughter was okay. He would take care of them all with everything he had.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 10

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: You guys I'm sorry this took a while. I really put a lot into this so I hope the wait was worth it. ALSO The Tortured Poets Department just came out!!! which means my creative juices are flowing, because nothing gets me thinking like Hans Zimmer and Taylor Swift. Already thinking of some Azriel angst for The Black Dog. ALSO this fic has a a cinematic playlist that goes with it? I can post it if that's something you guys are interested in.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavy angst, descriptions of character injuries, reader got the Mor treatment, last lil bit of angst guys you'll like the end.

Word Count: 5,103

Third Person pov:

Cassian stared at the other side of his bed. The one that suddenly felt so large now. He skipped training that morning, skipped breakfast too. Instead he twirled a small brass ring between his fingers. His mother’s ring to be exact. The last thing he had of hers, given to him by the female that told him where her body was dumped. 

He had wanted to give it to her, his mate.  Longed to see it on her dainty hand. He laughed when he thought about it in comparison to the ring Eris gave her. He remembered the sight of it as she pulled it out after the night he first made love to her. The thing was huge, when he held her hand yesterday he could practically feel the weight of it. The idea of putting a busted up old brass ring on that finger made his heartbreak. He wanted to give her so much more. 

At least, he thought, if she’s married to Eris she will be able to have nothing but the finest things. 

He tried to make that a consolation for him. But he knew that even a gilded cage was a cage. 

It wasn’t until midday when pain exploded through his gut, white hot and unyielding. He sat up abruptly, clutching his heart as he reached down the bound searching for her. Gasped as he realized that golden rope unwinding slowly but surely. He looked deeper, allowing himself to feel whatever she felt. His body temperature dropped as the pain in his gut worsened, and then as if the string was cleaved by a sword he felt nothing at all. A stone wall had dropped over the bond.   

No, no, no, no. 

He shot from his bed, ripping on whatever leathers he could find on the ground of his bedroom. Banishment be damned, he wouldn't let her die. 

Azriel sat on the couch nursing a hangover as Cassian bursted into the room, he tossed him a spare dagger. 

“Get up somethings wrong with y/n,” Cassain ordered the voice of a general making itself known as he laced up his boots.

Azriel didn’t object, didn’t even whine or moan from his aching head as he got up to join his brother. The shadowsinger had always been the calmest of the three, always the most collected. But he had never seen his brother so scared before, and that cool veil of calm that he always kept so wholly intact started to slip. 

It was a short flight to the townhouse and as Cassian landed at the front steps he started to realize the weight of what was about to happen. He had no time to prepare himself for how he would tell his High Lord, his best friend, and his brother in arms about the secret relationship he had been having with his precious little sister. And y/n was precious to Rhys, always had been, even if the trauma they both endured under the mountain had driven a wedge between them. 

Cassian reached through the bond and felt nothing still. He lost all hesitation and nearly blew off the doors to Rhysand’s study. 

Rhysand’s head flew up, and assessed whatever threat would lie before him. His eyes soften when he found his best friend standing in the doorway, but hardened again once he saw the sheer panic in his eyes. 

“y/n is in trouble we have to find her,” Cassian ordered, leaving no room for argument. 

“What do you mean y/n is in trouble?” Rhysand stood to brace his hands against his desk. “If she’s having a problem her husband can help her Cassian.” 

“And what if her husband is the reason she’s in trouble? I came to you for help, but if you won’t offer it I’ll take Azriel and I’ll find her myself.” Cassian growled, a male beyond feral. 

Azriel looked between the general and the High Lord, the stare down between the two so cold, so unyielding that it would go down in history. Rhysand’s violet eyes burned into Cassian’s, looking for the untold truth Cassian was keeping from him. When he didn’t find it, power filled the room as Rhys looked into Cassian’s mind.

“Stay out of my head Rhys!” Cassain grumbled, shaking his head as if those dark talons had already pried into his memories.  

It was too late, and Rhysand’s eyes filled with an anger Cassian had never seen as he winnowed over to where he stood and slammed him against the wall. 

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY LITTLE SISTER?!” Rhysand bellowed in his face. 

Cassian had never been afraid of the High Lord of Night. Not when he showed up at Windhaven with his brand new training clothes, not when he saw him wipe whole infantries off the face of the earth with the flick of his wrist. The common denominator was that he was never on the receiving end of Rhysand’s rage. But now he had a not so friendly reminder that he was the most powerful High Lord to ever grace Prythian, and Cassian was scared. 

“Let me explain,” Cassian choked out, the raw power spilling off Rhysand stifling his ability to even breathe. 

“Rhys,” Azriel warned, that cool calm coming back to him as he watched his brothers at eachothers throats. 

Rhys’ head whipped around to Azriel, “You knew?” he seethed. 

The spymaster didn’t dare speak, he simply took a step back raising his hands in surrender. 

“She’s my mate Rhys,” Cassian ground out. 

Rhys’ eyes met Cassain’s, and saw the pleading in them. The kind that could only be found in a male who’s mate was in danger. He had seen it before, when Kallias talked about Viviane, even before he knew she was his mate. 

Rhys released his hold on Cassian and the general's boots hit the floor with a thud as he started to collect himself. 

“She’s dying Rhys’ I can feel it. She was so cold and then there was just nothing. Please we have to find her.” Cassain pleaded. 

The High Lord seemed to be inside his own head, sorting through all the information he had been given in the last couple of minutes. This was more than just saving his sister, it was saving his best friend’s mate. Losing one would be like losing both, Cassian could never recover from such a loss. 

“If you felt cold she’s most likely in the Winter Court. You and Azriel take the border of Autumn and Winter, I’ll go speak to Kallias and Viviane and see what they know.” Rhysand ordered in a way that was more High Lordly than his brothers had ever heard. 

y/n’s pov:

It had been at least an hour, I had deciphered. The cold winter winds whipping around me as my body became so cold the snow started to bury me. 

I thought about grabbing the dagger just inches away from my frozen hand and plunging it through my heart, but when I tried to reach for it the pain that radiated through my side was too great. 

So I kept pulling on that bond, the rope that had turned to a thread. It felt like it was tied to a boulder, as every time I pulled it I found the otherside dead. The effects of the bloodbane taking away my ability to feel Cassian and my ability to heal.  

As I lay there, my legs becoming heavy as they become covered in a thin layer of frost and my blood spilling out onto the snow, I thought of one thing. 

It was all for nothing.

Cassian’s pov: 

The blizzard that had waged war on my wings yesterday was even stronger today. Thankfully Azriel was able to winnow the two of us to the border with ease. If y/n had truly been left out here then there was no time to waste. The snow and wind was so thick I could hardly see the ground below us. I prayed to the mother that she was with Kallias and Viviane, warm, safe and alright. Because if I found her out here it would be a miracle to find her alive. 

I flew as fast as possible, fighting against the gusts of wind. Azriel was farther behind me, no doubt running his eyes over every place I might’ve missed in my panic. If she was out here she wouldn't be hard to find, for on the border there was nothing but bare land. No trees, and no bushes or rocks. If the snow hadn’t buried her she would stand out like a sore thumb. 

She can’t be gone.

She can’t be gone. 

She can’t be gone.

I was beginning to lose hope, nearing the end of the border when Rhys spoke into my mind. 

Kallias and Viviane have not seen her, they’re sending out search parties as we speak.

My fears only heightened at Rhys’ status report, she was out here somewhere and I was most likely already too late.

No she’s not gone.

I told myself as I tugged on the bond one more time to see if there was still that concrete wall there and to my surprise I found a faint hum. The rope between us torn to shreds, I almost felt like if I tugged on it one more time it might disintegrate.  

“I can feel her!” I shout to Azriel over the wind. He shields his eyes from the wind to give me a nod, as he continues to search for her. 

My eyes scan the vast expanse of white below me until I see a small crumpled form, lying in the snow. 

No. 

I don’t think for another moment before tucking in my wings and diving straight for it. As I slam into the icy ground. I rush over to the heap on the ground and my worst fears are confirmed. 

There lies y/n with her back facing me, nothing covering her but a silk robe. Her body littered in bruises and blood pooling all around her. I fall to my knees before her, ignoring the bite of the snow. I pick her up and turn her carefully in my arms. The frost that covers her cheeks isn’t the worst of my concerns as my eyes fall to her stomach. There, nailed to her womb is a note that reads… 

‘WHORE’

I feel a liquid coating my hand and I hold it up to find blood. I spy a bloodblane laced dagger lying in the snow just a foot away. I reach down inside for the bond but I feel it disintegrating before my very eyes. 

“No, no, no Princess wake up!” I cry moving the hair from her frozen face. 

She doesn’t move. 

“Please wake up y/n!” I scream, my tears falling on her face as I try to shake her awake. “COME ON!” I growl. 

A shadow slams into the earth behind me and I feel Az’s presence behind me falling to hitting his knees next to mine. I don’t try to read his face, if he looks at her like she’s dead I don’t know what I’ll do. Instead I focus all my efforts on trying to get those frozen eyelashes to open up for me. 

“Come on baby come back to me,” I grit, pressing a kiss to her forehead. My lips bite at the coldness there. 

“Cass I told Rhys, he’s already home,” Azriel reported, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give her here,” he began reaching for her.

“No, don't touch her,” I growled, holding her closer to my chest. 

“I can winnow her back faster than you can fly her. You need to trust me Cass or she’s not going to make it,” he pleaded calmly. 

I sigh knowing that my brother is right and that my territorial male bullshit would only kill her. I reluctantly give her to Azriel and it isn’t until he stands with her that I realize how small she looks in his arms. How breakable, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. 

“Save her Az, please,” I beg, still on my knees. 

“Hang tight Cass I’ll be right back,” he says winnowing away. 

I’m left with the aftermath, and the roaring wind that’s practically white noise by now. In front of me is the imprint her body left in the snow and ice, as well as crimson colored snow. The knife that lay just a foot away identical to the one that was jabbed into my side just yesterday. I nearly threw up at the idea that she had felt that white hot pain of bloodbane making its way through her blood. 

A few minutes later Az winnowed back and took me with him to the townhouse. We landed in the foyer, and I didn’t hesitate to bound up the steps towards her own room. The door was flung open and Rhysand was already pacing watching Madja do her best work. 

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, unable to rip my eyes away from her too still form lying on the bed. Her hair is still frozen, lips still blue. 

“We don’t know yet,” Rhys answers in a tone so somber it pulls my attention. His eyes are just as bloodshot as mine and his hair is sticking up all over the place like he had been running his hands through it too much. 

As Majda stitches her wounds and assesses every inch of her, I find myself peeling off some of my leathers. The place was practically a sauna with a roaring fire heating the room and the bedpans littered about her bed. Even Rhys had a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead. It was the only thing that could be done, to warm her up. 

I stared at my mate's unconscious body, and prayed to the Mother that she wouldn’t take her away. Even half frozen, battered and bruised, she was still so beautiful, still the Jewel. Still my princess who I had fallen for all those years ago.

Please Mother, please don’t take her. 

If anything, just let me see her one last time. See her beautiful eyes and kiss her lips. Allow me to hold my mate one last time while her heart is still beating. 

As Madja worked her hands up and down her body she didn’t say a word, didn’t even breathe loudly, as if she was listening for something. Her behavior affected us all, as we stayed completely silent, the only sounds in the room coming from the crackling fire.

So when her shoulders slumped and she sighed, the breath echoed throughout the room. My stomach sank as she turned to us with a somber face. 

“Before she was left out there she was taken by force, that’s where the bruises are from. The wound to the right side was caused by a dagger laced in bloodbane, she was practically mortal when he left her in the snow. And the wound to her lower abdomen? It hit her womb, if she ever wakes up she may never be able to have children,” Madja says sadly. 

“If she wakes up?” I ask quietly, praying I heard wrong. 

Her eyes meet mine and then Rhysand’s, “We’re losing her.” she begins and I swear I feel my knees about to give out. “I can’t access her thoughts or her emotions, but given what she’s been through, it seems she’s lost the will to live.”  

That was it. 

I take the two steps to the edge of her bed and my knees hit the ground as I begin to weep. I slide my hand under the piles of blankets, careful not to disturb them, and take her hand in mine. Gods it’s so cold.  She had always had cold hands, she used to put them under my shirt to warm them up. But this was different, her hands were like ice. She didn’t even feel like her. 

“Maybe if I can look into her mind?” Rhys breathed, the angst ridden in his voice. 

“You are welcome to try my Lord,” Madja said solemnly, like whatever he found wouldn’t be of any use anyways. 

I hear Rhys' footsteps walk around to the other side of the bed and kneel. He places a hand over her head, his palm twitching from the sudden cold that was there. I watched intently as his eyes closed and brows furrowed. As he went deeper and deeper into her mind his face contorted until it began to soften once more, and a single tear fell from his face. 

“What? What is it?” I asked, my voice cracking. 

The High Lord pulled his hand from his sisters face to wipe his stray tear,  “Madja’s right. She’s given up. Her last thought was that she had lost the Autumn Court’s armies and she had lost you too Cassian. After everything that happened, it was all for nothing.” Rhys relayed sadly. 

“But she’s here now, she’s safe, she has to wake up,” I pleaded, squeezing her too cold hand tighter. 

“She doesn’t know that she is here though general,” Madja says calmly, like if she spoke any other way I would rip her to shreds, which was probably true. “She fell under thinking she would never see you again.”

“What can I do? I’ll do anything.” I plead with Madja. Hell I’d trade places with her if I could. Her people needed a princess more than they needed a general.

“I’m afraid there is nothing any of us can do. All we can do is wait and hope she comes back,” Madja says sadly. 

“I want you to take up quarters in the town house for the time being,” Rhys ordered.

“Of course my Lord, I will be checking on her constantly,” Madja nods, collecting her bag full of tonics and bandages.

“Is there anything I can do for you Cass?” Azriel asks, placing a hand on my back. 

“No,” I say solemnly, pressing my forehead to her hand. “Just leave us.” 

Neither one of my brothers protested. The only indication that they had left was the door closing and the silence that had followed. Their muffled voices went down the hall, no doubt to show Madja where she would be staying. I was sure that Rhys would be back to check on his little sister once he was done. 

I lifted my head from where I had it pressed against her hand to see her face again. Her skin was still pale but the frost had melted off her eyelashes and skin. Hickies littered her neck and a faint hand shaped bruise wrapped around her neck.

Gods what had he done to her? 

“Princess I don’t know if you can hear me but you have to open those pretty eyes for me okay?” I pleaded with her. “It wasn’t for nothing baby, I’m here now and I’m not going to let anyone take you away again. You were so strong and so brave but you don’t have to be anymore, you just need to wake up. Just wake up and I’ll take care of you okay?” 

I feel my tears starting to well up. I didn’t just want my girlfriend back, or even my mate. I wanted my best friend back. I thought about what a lonely world it would be without her. 

“We can go back to reading your silly books while I tickle your feet. And you can whoop my ass and drink me under the table when we play Marks again.” I laugh remembering the time I taught her how to play the ridiculous drinking game, it felt like so long ago now.

“You have to come back to me because we have to have the most ridiculous and ornate mating ceremony ever.” I chuckle through my tears picturing how much she would detest the idea of an over the top event. “And you gotta wake up because I wanna make you my wife baby.” 

I feel the lump in my throat form, remembering the brass ring I had left on my nightstand from this morning. I had almost wished that I had felt the same sadness I felt then now. For nothing could compare to the agony of the mating bond slipping out of my hands like sand falling through an hourglass. 

“But we can’t do any of those things until you wake up honey, so you gotta open your eyes for me okay?” I say trying to smile. 

Her eyes don’t open, I’m not even sure if her chest rises and falls to breathe.

“Please y/n wake up! Please don’t leave me, I can’t live without you.” I plead, my tears falling faster than ever now. 

 I let out a groan as I press my forehead to her little hand again. My chest caving in as I find the skin there still cold.  Fuck it, if she can’t hear me than I’ll beg to the gods who might. 

“Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t take her from me.  Please don’t take her from me…”

Rhysand’s pov: 

After I show Madja where she can set her things and take a load off, I slump into an armchair in my room and run my hands through my hair. For the first time today, I’m finally hit by the weight of what the past two hours have been.  

The images of what I saw when I reached into y/n’s mind were enough to make me shudder. I was so blind to her pain. So focused on my own mate, and my own trauma, I forgot that she went under that mountain with me. And what’s worse is that she felt like she owed me an army for saving her. I almost regret going so far back into her memories that I saw it all. The things Eris did to her, the way he spoke to her. The conflict she felt. 

But then there were moments of immense happiness. Each one of them featured Cassian in one way or another. Images of him lacing up her dresses and placing a kiss on her shoulder when he was done. Her laughing in the early hours of morning with him. I had never seen my brother smile so big or love so much. 

Oh gods Cassian. 

I thought to myself, remembering the look on his face when he saw her lying prone on that bed. His agony that practically filled and infected everything in the room. He needed me, and I needed to see my little sister. 

My tired body creaks as I stand from the chair with a groan, making my way next door to y/n’s room. The same one I used to sneak her out of when we were kids. Sometimes I miss those days and how simple everything was. 

I opened the door slowly to not disturb Cassian. The light from behind me illuminated the mostly dark room. The only other light source was the fire. Cassain was right where I left him, kneeling on by the edge of the bed, stroking her hair whispering sweet nothings to her that I couldn’t hear. 

I make my way inside and close the door to keep in the heat as I sit on the opposite side of the bed. It isn’t until the bed dips under my weight that Cassian’s eyes meet mine. In all the years I’ve known him I had never seen him this way. His eyes were bloodshot and weepy, and the bags under his eyes prevalent. It reminded me of when I thought Feyre had died under the mountain, and I supposed that made sense given this was the same thing.  

“Has she?” I asked, wondering if she had shown any signs of life. 

“No,” was the only answer the general could give me. 

My eyes fell to my sister once more, unable to take the sorrow that came from Cassian’s stare. The frost that once covered her face was now melted, and her lips were no longer blue. However, pink had not yet tinted her cheeks and I wondered if it ever would again. It raised the question, how could I have prevented her from meeting this fate, and prevented Cassain from having to feel this pain. I was the most powerful High Lord in History, but right now I had never felt so small. 

“Why didn’t you tell me she was your mate?” the question spilled out of me. “If I had known I would’ve stopped the wedding immediately.” 

Cassian lifted his head from where it was pressed against her hand and looked at me again, “For the same reason your mate is still in the Spring Court. She deserved to have a choice.” he said to me, and though his words held no anger, no resentment, they were a punch to the gut. 

“I’m a terrible brother,” I admit, my eyes falling to her. 

“No you’re not. She did what she did because you are a good brother. She wanted to help you in any way she could, at any cost.  That’s how much she loves you.” Cassian spoke, his voice quiet and even toned. “But things might’ve been different if you two hadn’t distanced yourselves when you got back from under the mountain. Whatever you guys saw down there? Whatever happened? You need to face it together, Rhys. If she wakes up, you need to be as close as you once were.” 

Gods, for a general my brother had a way with words. He was right about all of it. I had distanced myself from her after we came back. Thinking that I could spare her from the pain I felt, but I had forgotten that she had gone under that mountain with me. She had demons to battle as well, and I left her to fight them alone. 

“She will wake up Cass,” was all I could say. “She has to, because I have to make things right.”

y/n’s pov: 

Waking up was slow. 

First all I could hear was the crackling of a fire and slow steady breaths. Then I smelled the familiar scent of night blooming jasmine laced with cedar. Next was the immeasurable warmth that fanned my face, and last was the feeling of a strong calloused hand holding my own.

I squeezed that hand ever so slightly before finally opening my eyes. I looked up at the familiar ceiling of my childhood bedroom, the constellations that had been painstakingly painted there. To my left a roaring fire and to my right… Cassian. Kneeling at the edge of the bed his forehead pressed to my hand. His breaths rising and falling slowly, the way they always did when he was asleep. 

“Cass,” I rasped out, my voice still uneasy. 

His head flew up and his eyes were on me in an instant. I loosed a sob at finding that familiar hazel staring back at me. The face I thought I would never see before. 

“Oh my god baby,” he smiled, pressing his lips to my forehead. “You came back to me, thank the Mother.” 

“Cassian, I'm so sorry. I should’ve listened to you.  You were right about everything and I should’ve stayed and-” I began to ramble through  my tears. 

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed, brushing a tear from my eye as a few of his own fell. “Don’t worry  about that now. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you know” 

The bond tugged at his promise and I was reminded of the blessing I had been given, “You’re my mate,” I smiled pressing a hand to his face. He winced at the cold but then laid one of his own hands over it, bringing it down to his lips to press a kiss to my palm. 

“Yeah I am,” he laughs. “And you’re mine.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him as he continued pressing kisses into the palm of my hand. 

“You were already dealing with so much y/n,”  he said softly. “I couldn’t make things even more complicated or try to control your choices. Not when this alliance was the first thing you ever got to choose for yourself. But I should’ve told you and I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh,” I soothed him like he had me moments ago. “We both made mistakes Cass, but none of that matters now that we’re together again.” 

“You’re right,” he smiled, kissing my forehead.

“The only thing we need to worry about now is Eris and whatever he does next,” I say, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, the stubble there telling me he hadn’t shaved in a while. 

His eyes hardened as he pulled my hand from his cheek, grasping it in both of his hands as if he was praying, “If he comes back for you y/n I will fucking kill him. I swear to the Gods I will invoke the blood duel-”

“You will do nothing of the sort Cassian. I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.” I say firmly. 

“Are you doubting your general?” He gave me a cocky smile.

“No, but I don’t trust Eris to play fair. If he comes back Rhys will deal with him.” I assure him.

“As your mate I have the right to defend you,” he reminds me. 

“You’re right, you do. But if we don’t handle things just right Eris could declare war on us. I won’t let my people be attacked by Hybern and the Autumn Court.” I explained to him. 

Cassain nodded. I could sense the disappointment in him, and I didn’t blame him for feeling that way. I would’ve paid good money to watch him kill Eris. It was scary enough when someone hurt another male's mate. Especially when the affected male is The Lord of Bloodshed. 

“And Cass?” I asked. 

“Yes?”

“You were wrong before, about my choices. The first thing I ever got to choose for myself wasn’t Eris, Cassian. It was you.” I smile looking at the best decision I had ever made. I would never come to regret asking him to kiss me after that ball. Not when it had brought me his love. The best thing I never knew I needed. 

Cassain smiled and then let out a hearty chuckle, as if he had finally realized that I was back, and we were together again, and we would be together until The Mother called us home. 

To be continued…

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[oneshotnewbie]

how about an addison montgomery x reader and finding out reader has abusive parents thanks!!!!!

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of abusive parents. This plot is presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright sun shone through the large windows of the waiting room at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital as you paced nervously in the waiting room. The thought of the upcoming check-up with Dr. Addison Montgomery made your heart beat faster even though you repeated this year after year. Despite your fears, you knew it was important to get regular checkups, especially after you noticed some unusual symptoms.

When you were finally called, you followed the nurse through the corridors of the gynecological clinic until you finally stood in front of the door to the treatment room. Once inside, Dr. Montgomery greeted you with a warm smile. "Welcome back, y/n. How are you today?"

You forced a smile, concern for your health and life's obstacles overshadowing your usual demeanor. "Thanks, I'm feeling okay so far. I'm here for a checkup because I've noticed a few symptoms that are worrying me."

Addison nodded understandingly and asked you to take a seat. However, as she began to ask the usual questions, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. Your posture was stiff, your answers were short, and you seemed uncomfortable. Quite the opposite from the last times she had seen you. "Can you tell me about the symptoms you've been noticing lately?" She asked softly and you hesitated for a moment before answering. "Well, I have unusual pulling and pressure in my abdomen. I feel very tired in general but I think that's probably just normal."

The redhead frowned slightly as she began to do the examination. When she gestured with her hand to ask you to sit on the exam chair, you flinched and promptly avoided making eye contact with her. "I´m sorry..." you simply interjected and as you continued to sit on the chair, Addison felt an inexplicable restlessness arise within her.

She watched you carefully as she took swabs and checked to see what was going on. As she did so, she recognized subtle signs of fear and insecurity manifesting in your behavior that she had never seen in you before. It was as if there was something in the air, something unspoken, standing between them and demanding their attention. She could practically feel the tension surrounding you, and her instincts told her that there was more going on here than what seemed like a checkup.

After she had also completed an ultrasound on you, Addison sat down on the lounger next to you and quickly decided to ask carefully. "I want to be honest with you. I noticed some signs during the exams that could indicate something might be wrong. I think it might be helpful if you talked about it." She murmured questioningly, placing a soothing hand on your thigh, making you jump at the touch as well.

You looked at her in surprise, your eyes fixed on her with relief. But only hesitantly did you begin to talk about your concerns, which went far beyond the physical symptoms. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" The person you spoke to nodded at you, giving you time to express yourself. She sensed that there was more here than your body had yet revealed, and she wanted to give you the opportunity to open up when you were ready. "I'm your doctor, y/n. Everything you tell me is confidential."

You swallowed hard before finally finding the courage to say the words you had suppressed for so long. "It's my father," you began hesitantly and the gynecologist listened attentively without interrupting. "Since the pandemic and losing his job, he's... he's not exactly... friendly to me."

The reticence and fear had crumbled as you revealed the truth about your home situation to her. You confessed to the constant insults, humiliation and physical abuse you endured from your father and Addison continued to listen intently, offering you an empathetic embrace of comfort and support as you revealed the painful details of your abuse.

When you finished, an oppressive silence fell across the room. Addison felt the weight of your words on her own shoulders. She felt powerless in the face of the suffering you had to endure at such a young age, an inner anger boiling up towards your parents and at the same time a burning desire deep inside her to help you. "Thank you, y/n, for trusting me," she finally spoke in a quiet voice and rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. This time you didn't flinch. "What has been done to you and continues to happen to you is unacceptable and you deserve to be safe and protected. I will do everything in my power to help you get out of this situation."

The shock of what she had heard was deep within her, but she forced herself to remain calm and empathetic. Her first priority was to reassure you that you were safe and that she would help you. She hugged you gently and held you close to her, giving your tears a place to disappear. "Please believe me when I say that you are safe here," she began to speak to you calmly. "No one will hurt you in front of me and if it happens again, you come straight to me, okay?"

You lowered your gaze, tears glistening in your eyes as you let yourself fall into her embrace, feeling the instant warmth and comfort she offered you. For a moment you felt safe, surrounded by the care of this remarkable woman who was willing to stand up for you. “Thank you, Dr. Montgomery,” you whispered, your voice shaking. "It means so much to me to know I'm not alone."

Addison smiled softly and rubbed your back. "From now on it's Addison. I think we're past the formal part. And of course, I'll help you through the difficult times, and I'll be by your side as long as you need me."

At that moment, you knew you had made the right decision to reach out to her. You felt strengthened by her words and beneath all the vulnerability you showed there was also a spark of hope. Hope that you weren't alone, that there were people who cared about you and were ready to help you when you needed it. You felt relieved that you had confided in someone, and Addison promised to support you every step of the way, whether through further testing, therapy, or any other form of police or court help you needed.

As you left the office, you felt a little more confident with her personal phone number and address. Addison Montgomery, who promised to protect you if your father became abusive again and you needed a place to stay. You knew that from now on you were no longer alone but had found an ally in her in the fight against the darkness that surrounded you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In the weeks that followed, Addison Montgomery and you developed a deep bond that went beyond the boundaries of an ordinary doctor-patient relationship. She had given you her personal address and phone number in case you ever had to run away from home and didn't know where to go. The gesture of care had touched you deeply and shown you that you were not just a patient, but now also had a friendship that you could rely on.

The conversations between the two of you became more and more open and intimate as you worked together to come up with a plan to get yourself out of the dangerous situation you found yourself in. And one Saturday morning, after you had escaped from your father's attacks and came to her, Addison offered to take you in and give you a safe haven, away from your parents' abuse and humiliation.

At first you were unsure whether you should accept the offer. The fear of the unknown, the worry of the consequences, and the fear of becoming too much for Addison held you back. But in the end, your trust, the hope for a better life and the love that she conveyed to you every day prevailed.

At midnight on that same warm spring night, you packed your few belongings and made your way to Addison's house. As you opened the door, a feeling of relief and freedom washed over you. The redhead welcomed you with open arms and a warm, loving smile that showed you that you were finally safe and that she would never let anything happen to you again.

Over the coming weeks and months, you began to settle into your new home, helping Addison with Henry while she was at work. Under her loving care, you slowly blossomed, gained self-confidence, and finally found the courage to leave your past behind you.

Addison supported you every step of the way in your healing, whether it was through therapeutic conversations, medical care, or just her unconditional love and support. Together you went through ups and downs, but you always stood by each other, determined to overcome the darkness together and step into the light of a better future. Your connection was strong, characterized by mutual respect, trust and love and you knew that you would be connected forever.

[dizzy-after-dark]

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over. 

Baby I— 

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet. 

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same. 

She should just throw it out. 

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well. 

She’s already made too many ghosts. 

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though. 

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right? 

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more. 

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.  

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really. 

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet. 

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine. 

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for. 

That’s still Steve— her Steve. 

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”  

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days. 

Her silence is deafening. 

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him. 

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.” 

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell. 

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him. 

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war. 

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”  

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them. 

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something? 

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore. 

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.” 

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad? 

Is it anger? 

Or is it something much more primal. 

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him. 

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.” 

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do. 

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers. 

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry. 

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts. 

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze. 

She’s caught— he gets it now. 

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?” 

She only blinks at him. Once… twice… 

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter. 

Come on, Steve. 

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that? 

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out. 

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first? 

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.  

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate. 

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy? 

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.” 

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense. 

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing? 

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun? 

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—”  she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.” 

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one— 

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening. 

He’s relentless. 

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat. 

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels. 

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?” 

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.” 

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—” 

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.” 

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it. 

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”   

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.” 

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks. 

Oh.  

 Oh. 

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long. 

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him. 

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy. 

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.  

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain. 

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more. 

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately. 

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.   

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”  

And she does. 

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it. 

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be. 

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit. 

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless. 

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” 

“—Stevie!” 

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much. 

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles. 

“Of course.” 

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there. 

Cauterized, or something like it. 

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

It's weird to expect lb to be able to read cn mind and called her a bad partner for it. But it's even weirder for lb to ignore cn WHEN HES OBVIOUSLY IN DISTRESS and not called her a bad partner for it because I think called her a bad partner for ignoring it is understandable and justified especially since she consider herself as his boss.

Every time I bring up this conflict, I try to make it clear that I don't think Ladybug was blameless, I just think Chat Noir's writing was worse. Let's walk through the problem to show what I mean.

Season four stars with Marinette extremely stressed by her new Guardian status. In Truth and Lies, the first episodes of the season, we get this:

Ladybug: Will you cut it out with the practical jokes? I could have really hurt you! Cat Noir:(answering while hanging by the yo-yo) M'lady, the only thing that really hurts me is when you make me go on patrol by myself. (sighs, relaxing his posture) I even missed your little angry pout. Ladybug: Sorry, Kitty Cat, I'm a bit over my head at the moment. (pulling him up) Cat Noir: I bet! "Guardian of the Miraculous", big name, big responsibility!

This is also the start to Chat Noir communicating poorly. In this episode, he's straight up told that Ladybug is in over her head and he never once asks how he can help. In fact, we even get him saying this when asked how he feels about the change:

Truth: Cat Noir, tell me what- (interupted by Ladybug throwing a present at Truth) Ladybug: (covering her parasol with foil) ...do you think about my new role as guardian! Cat Noir: If it doesn't change things between us, then I'm good with it!

So not a great start to the season. I know people focused on Adrien's terrible treatment of Kagami in these episodes, but this Ladynoir dynamic was actually what rang alarm bells for me. I kept waiting for Chat Noir to offer his support since it was really, really obvious that Ladybug was in over her head since she was late to patrols, the last season literally ended with her losing her mentor figure, and, you know, she straight up told him that was what was going on?

The next episode is Gang of Secrets in which we see Marinette out her identity to Alya. I get why she did this, she needed support and her partner doesn't seem interested in giving it, but she can't say that for certain because she never asked him directly and she should have. Trusting Chat Noir over Alya would have allowed Ladynette to maintain the security of her secret identity - a thing she claimed was more important than ever - and to honor their partnership. At the very least, she should have told Chat Noir that Rena Rouge was now a full time holder so that he could account for that in battle and to minimize the fallout by owning up to her mistake asap. The longer a lie goes on, the worse the truth will hurt.

To Ladybug's credit, she does eventually acknowledge her mistake after the Scarabella incident:

Ladybug: You... must've been pretty surprised to discover there was another holder! (Silence. She sits beside Cat Noir.) Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings.

This is a decent apology. She doesn't try to absolve herself of wrong doing. Instead, she acknowledges that what she did would hurt her, too, if the shoe were on the other foot. The only thing she loses points on is the fact that she doesn't tell him about Rena Furtive.

However, instead of agreeing with her and telling her that she has hurt him, Chat Noir says that she did nothing wrong and never once brings up how their weakened partnership is bothering him:

Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. Paris will always need a Ladybug superhero to watch over her. It's just... I realized that if one day that hero wasn't you, m'lady, since we don't know each other's identities, that means... I'd never see you again. Ever. And now, I just don't know if I can bear it.

This is the thing that I hate about this arc. The reason why I say Ladybug is blamed for not reading his mind. Especially because, three episodes later, we get Rocketear, which gives us this:

Cat Noir: Everyone has doubts now and then, (looks down) even me... Ladybug: Is everything okay, Cat Noir? Cat Noir: Yeah, yeah. (prepare his fist) Pound it! Ladybug: (fistbumps) Pound it!

Rocketear is the episode where Nino outs that he and Alya know each other's identities while acting like Ladybug said identities weren't a big deal even though that is very much not what happened. You'd think that Chat Noir would want to know the full story, but instead he just lies and says that everything is fine.

So we have two situations where the show allowed Ladybug to give Chat Noir a chance for clear and open communication and both times he turns her down.

What's worse is that he clearly starts making up stories in his head, leading to Kuro Neko, which starts with Adrien avoiding a fight on purpose as some sort of shit test. He then gets upset when Ladybug... doesn't lament his absence on national TV?

Clara: (from TV) By the way, where's Cat Noir? You've saved Paris without him quite a few times recently. Are you two at odds with each other? Carapace, Pegasus, Vesperia and Pigella: (from TV) Pound it! Ladybug: (from TV) Of course not, it's just that... umm, he's a partner like any other! The most important is to pick the best superheroes for each mission, with or without Cat Noir. No matter what, we've got a great team and we'll always be here to save Paris. (Adrien is shocked.) Adrien: (turns off the TV and sighs) "A partner like any other..."

Dude, what did you want her to do here? Complain that you flaked on her? Make Paris feel less safe by saying she doesn't know where you are? Imply that the fight was barely won without you? What are you doing? Plagg, you are completely failing as a mentor right now.

The shit test continues as Chat Noir goes to meet up with Ladybug now that the battle is over, arriving just as Ladybug has finished instructing the team on what to do:

Ladybug: Come on, guys! Hurry up before you all detransform. I'll meet you at rendezvous points. (The heroes jump away in different directions, and Ladybug starts typing something on her Yo-yo.) Cat Noir: Hey! Meow are you, m'lady? Ladybug: Great, thanks, but I gotta go retrieve all these Miraculous. Cat Noir: I could lend you a paw to help save time. Ladybug: Thanks, kitty cat, but it's a guardian's job to do it. Cat Noir: I know who some of them are, remember? I was there when you first gave them their Miraculous! Ladybug: You don't even know where their rendezvous points are, I don't have time to— Cat Noir: Playing cat and mouse is my forte, you know— Ladybug: (yelling) If you wanna save me time, stop wasting it in the first place! (Cat Noir gasps. As Ladybug swings away, Cat Noir clenches his fist.) Cat Noir: And take my Miraculous back when you're done!

So Ladybug doesn't publicly chastise Chat Noir for missing the battle and rejects an offer to help because of very legitimate timing concerns, leading to Chat Noir quitting because she failed his stupid, petty, childish tests. Realistic writing? Yes. Writing that paints Ladybug as the one in the wrong? No.

Going into this episode, Ladybug has no idea that things are messed up between them even though she has actually kept communication lines open. She asks him if things are okay, but he lies. And when he's ready to quit? He plays stupid games and wins a stupid prize. It's really not shocking that the next scene sees Ladybug totally baffled by what just happened:

Plagg: For a while now, you've been neglecting this camembert— I mean Cat Noir, and going on adventures with the all other cheeses! Ladybug: But he should be happy about it, it gives him more time off. Plagg: Cat Noir doesn't wanna have time off, Ladybug! He is in love with you! And your persistent calling on all the other heroes has broken his heart.

And how is she supposed to know that, Plagg? Was she supposed to assume that her partner was lying when he said he was fine? Because she did ask and he said that nothing was wrong. But something was wrong and it lead him to build up a story in his head, reading nonexistent intent into her actions, all of which is toxic and unhealthy communication.

I cannot stress how common this shit is. I've seen it so many times and I will own that I've done it in the past and wound up getting no support when I needed it because I'd directly told people I didn't and they committed the heinous crime of... believing me.

Here's the other thing, there are times when I'm in distress and legitimately don't want or need help. Times when I just need to be alone for a bit. So if someone asks me if I'm okay during those times, I'm probably just going to say, "Yeah, I just need a people break" or something like that. That's why the Scarabella scene is so bad. Ladybug can see that Chat Noir is in distress and he gives her a fully plausible answer: I'm not upset with you, I'm just saddened by the idea of losing you. And she believes him because why wouldn't she?

Same goes for Rocketear. It's reasonable for Ladybug to assume that Chat Noir is just shaken by the fight. She has no idea about the bombshell that Nino dropped right before the fight. She doesn't even know that Nino and Chat Noir are actually close friends, making this fight a lot more devastating than it looks at face value. Her actions here are not objectively wrong. They're only wrong if you know the whole story, including Adrien's needs. Things that she cannot know unless Chat Noir uses his words to tell her things.

I cannot over stress how much season four is a textbook example of denying yourself support because you cannot communicate your own needs. Is it an understandable character flaw for a character with Adrien's background to have? Yes. Absolutely. 100%. But it's still a character flaw. This season desperately needed an arc about Adrien learning to tell people what's wrong. Not because he's the only one in the wrong here, but because things cannot get better when Ladybug has no idea that she's hurting him. (Nino has no idea either, but let's keep our focus on Ladybug.)

One of the most important things you can do for your own mental well being is to dismiss the idea that your needs are the same as everyone else's. Everyone needs different amounts of attention and values different behavior based on things like their upbringing and life events.

I get the feeling that I'm wired pretty similar to Marinette. At least, it influences how I write her because I can go months without talking to my best friends and still call them my best friends, a trait we all share because two of use are artsy introverts and two of us are moms to young kids, which allows for very little free time. Meanwhile, my SO and his best friend spend hours on the phone almost every week. I swear that those two go into withdrawal if they don't talk at least once every seven days. If months went by without them talking? Something would be very wrong, but the exact same time gap isn't even remotely concerning when it comes to my friends. It's something my SO and I had to figure out when we got together because I need a lot less attention than he does. But we communicated and found a balance that we continue to work to communicate about so that he doesn't feel neglected and I don't feel overwhelmed by too little me time.

What I'm trying to say is Marinette wasn't horribly wrong for assuming that Chat Noir was telling her the truth or that he liked having a larger team so he had less responsibility. Those are reasonable assumptions. Especially since he never actually indicated that he wanted more responsibility until he was ready to quit and decided to shit test her by pushing for more to do when she was stressed and on a timer.

I do think that she should have offered it to him before that or - at the very least - the show should have clearly stated why she didn't do that since it apparently had nothing to do with Chat Blanc trauma like we all thought it did. I'm not saying that she's blameless or perfect or that there weren't things she could have done better. It's just really hard for me to look at Chat Noir's behavior in season four and go, "Oh yeah, he's the injured party here. Ladybug holds all the blame and did everything wrong." She did many things wrong, but generally speaking, she owned her faults and tried to keep communication channels open. Chat Noir chose to ignore those chances to talk or otherwise try to express his needs in a clear and understandable manner.

We'll end with one final point to drive this home: You said that she's his boss. Well, if my boss asked me, "is everything okay with the project?" and I said, "yes" while freaking out about the upcoming deadline that I'm probably going to miss because he's given me too much work, the issue is not all on my boss. It's on both of us. Him for overloading me and me for not telling him I'm overloaded. You could even argue that it's mostly on me because I'm the only one who can properly gauge my own ability to do a given workload. As soon as it was too much, I should have said something. And if I don't feel like my boss is approachable? Then I should quit. But that isn't the situation I'm in and it doesn't appear to be the one that Chat Noir was in, either. He wanted to stay part of the team, he just totally failed to tell Ladybug how being on the team was making him feel.

People magically knowing what you need and how you feel is a myth. I promise you, most people in this world do not want to cause you pain, but if you cannot clearly express when someone is causing you pain, then you will continue to get hurt by people who would be very happy to not hurt you if they actually knew that their actions were causing you pain.

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

THE AARON WARNER X READER FIC OMLLLLLLLL I NEED PT. 2 PLEASEEE

aaron warner x ferrars!reader pt. 2

aaron warner continues to make way into your life, and it's only a matter of time before you grow fond of him too.

(taken place during unravel me)

continuation of the hcs from this piece!

a/n: hey y'all.... the long awaited pt 2 is finally here. so sorry for the wait, but i had some major writer's block with this at first, and tbh life has been a lil hectic rn with classes n stuff, so thank you for all the love and support on the first headcannons, and thank you for being patient with me! i truly cant express enough how happy i get when you guys compliment my work <3 as usual, hayden is my personal fc, imagine who you like !

side note: i know reader might seem kind of useless at times even tho she has powers, but it's because she doesn't have a full control of her ability yet, still learning how far it goes, and she doesn't have much practice on defensive uses of it, since a lot of her training is about learning about her powers. hope that makes sense LOL. some big events are going to be briefed over bc i didnt wanna bore y’all with stuff you alr read in the book and wanna focus on warner & reader interactions👍

word count: 8.2k

warnings: some plot changes, vague taylor swift reference, mentions of injuries and blood, some violence

after receiving the note, you immediately crumped it and stuffed it into a random drawer with your clothing. you hadn't told a soul about the message, you feared it would only make the implication of meeting warner again true.

thinking about the note was a pipeline to thinking about aaron warner. thinking about him meant flashing back to the last moment the two of you shared.

his lips on yours, his confessions of his infatuation, and of course, the way your shot him in the chest. you hated how the memory was brung a warm and unfamiliar feeling in your chest, especially thinking back to the kiss.

you told yourself it wasn't a big deal. maybe another member at the base decided to play a prank on you, or perhaps it was just an empty threat. there was no way warner knew your location, so there's no need to tell anyone about the silly note.

but to be extra cautious, you laid off going on missions to the outside for a little bit. plus, it forced juliette to interact with people that weren't you on missions when you weren't there.

you went along with your routine as usual, training with castle and kenji, and hanging out with juliette and adam.

you didn't hate castle by any means, but you find his underlying scrutinization of both you and your sister at times to be bothersome. his constant pushy treatment to juliette never sat right with you either, but since he was the leader of omega point - you knew you had to still show respect for him.

although, you started to notice a strain between the couple recently, mostly from adam's side. there was obviously something he was keeping from juliette.

you comforted your sister to the best of your ability, but you knew not knowing was starting to affect her. kenji also seemed to know whatever this secret was, but was adamant on keeping his lips shut.

however, once castle took adam away in the middle of you guys eating lunch, juliette demanded answers since it was obvious adam himself was struggling to reveal it himself.

this time kenji was helpful and guided you and juliette to the research labs. there you both saw castle engaging adam in some sort of tests, and it sent your sister into a fit of rage, mainly aimed at castle. which then resulted in her angrily punch the ground, causing for a large earthquake that shook the entire establishment.

juliette was passed out for three days before waking up. you worried for her endlessly during those days, it was the one of the only times you intentionally listened for her thoughts, to ensure she was alright, but it was scarily silent. you knew adam also was quite worried for juliette, but castle made sure he kept his distance.

after that, her and adam were on some sort of unofficial break up, and you knew better than to get involved. juliette was also now required to join you and kenji in training, which made for a chaotic, but fun trio.

your powers were getting easier to control, you were working on levitating heavier objects every time. you've practiced mental manipulation on insects and small animals, so you had a gist of to what extent you could control a mind. the most you've done so far was send simple commands like jump, sit, move, etc. kenji always offered to be a test subject for this, but you always declined, not liking the thought of possibly controlling the mind of your friend.

now that you could control when to apprehend thoughts, it made it much easier to make friends without disrespecting people's privacy. while sara and sonya were always kind to you, others had made it sort of clear they wanted to keep their distance to prevent their mind from being read by you. being able to now reassure others that their thoughts weren't being heard made it easier for people to approach you.

much like juliette you found new friends in brendan, with an electric ability, and winston, who had a stretchy ability and also designed the suits for both ferrars.

days at omega point were serene for a bit, everyone following routine and members continuing to patrol areas for any threats of the reestablishment. but it was surely disrupted with the arrival of threatening news.

it was in the middle of the night when you were dragged away from your bed by kenji to castle's office; juliette and adam following suite. he claimed it was an urgent matter that required the presence of the four of you.

there, castle revealed the return of the supreme commander, also known as warner's father - that was big news to you and juliette. it explains how warner was able to be out with his men in the sector so often.

however, news worsened when you found out brendan and winston along with emory and ian were taken by the reestablishment during their patrol. at their missing location was left a note, with specific instructions on how to proceed.

you were shaken by this discovery, it had been only less than 24 hours since you had last spoken with either of them, both you and juliette had had breakfast with brendan and winston.

that wasn't even the end of if, castle instructed that all four of you were to go to this meeting destination.

all of you were taken aback by this, you had initially assumed castle would be the one to see the supreme, since has is the leader and all.

adam and kenji were at the head of the protest against this plan, not wanting to easily comply . both you and juliette remained silent, still taking in all the information given.

you without a doubt were ready to head in for the safety of your friends, but you also didn't like the unpredictability of the situation you all could possibly wander into with the commander.

"the two of you may opt out as you like, but i am requesting the aid of both ferrars, seeing as they are the ones very explicitly instructed to see the supreme - a sort of exchange, them for the hostages. "

again, everyone in the room was stunned with confusion. all having the same question, why would he need both sisters there?

you didn't know the room could've possibly erupted into more chaos than right now. adam was now furious, kenji not too far behind with questions of his own.

you couldn't help but think back to the note you found in your pocket, "see you soon." is this what he had meant? had he known this would occur that long ago?

again, you shook the thought from your mind. aaron warner wasn't the one who sent the order, it was the supreme, so it's possible warner will not even be at the location the four of you are suppose to go to.

no need to think about warner, you told yourself. no need to remember how he kissed you with ferocious passionate intent.

with this newfound knowledge, you knew you couldn't back away from this, not when there were lives at stake, and you didn't have to be familiar with the supreme to know he would not hesitate to take the lives of omega point members.

you looked toward juliette to inquire her thoughts about the situation. you understood from the look on her face that she had a similar plan of action to you. a telepathic (without actually reading her mind this time) message was communicated between both of you, making a mutual agreement.

"we'll do it." you announced over the arguing.

castle was pleased with this decision, but immediately adam objected, and even kenji was hesitant for you both to go through with the plan. however, stubborn as ever, both of you committed to your decision.

preparing for the meeting with warner's father was nerve-racking, worried for the safety of your team, and also the hostages. you and everyone knew this had to be some sort of trap set up by the commander, but there wasn't much you could do besides arm yourself and comply.

the four of you were gathered in castle's office. castle made sure all four of you were equipped with necessary gear for the mission, including having weapons with you.

you attire was the same as usual, a red leather corset-styled top, a matching leather coat-like jacket, black pants in a stretchy material, accompanied with black fingerless gloves and black knee-high boots - except now you had the addition of a harness and holsters up your leg to hold any firearms given to you. the coat did well in concealing a lot of the guns.

luckily, you had a good amount of practice with a gun since the warner incident. you were no james bond, as a man kenji liked to reference, but you had enough skill to defend yourself and others in the face of danger.

"why does warner's father need both sisters?" kenji humorously asked castle, "can't we at least keep one of them, one for the reestablishment and one for omega point."

you scoffed with a grin, entertaining the joke. "i'm sorry, who exactly are you willing to sacrifice to the reestablishment kenji?"

"well, with that attitude i'm starting to lean towards you."

castle goes through the plan once more before having to leave with the rest of omega point. they had to be stationed around building near the meeting point before the four of you arrived.

the time finally arrived for all of you to begin the journey to meeting the commander. since you all were traveling on foot, adam and kenji leading the way, you needed to leave at least an hour before the designated time.

adam was able to successfully turn off his protective shield for kenji to make all of you invisible. it made the journey easier; being able to wander through the land unseen.

after kenji misguided you to the wrong house, you all rushed to get to the correct address, 1542 sycamore. with 50 seconds of time, you all arrived.

juliette made the quick decision to tell kenji and adam to stay hidden, that it was better if warner's dad thought we were alone. in the case of an emergency, they could jump in.

kenji and adam gave a few last words of reassurance, before turning back invisible. then, you and juliette stood in front of the door of meeting house, holding hands before entering the house.

warner's dad did the job of opening the door for you both, inviting you inside even though it was more a of demand, and commenting on your impeccable timing.

once inside, you got a good look at the man. you shouldn't be shocked he was also quite handsome since he is warner's father, but you were still thrown back by his unexpected attractiveness.

unfortunately, you didn't take him his appearance for long before he abruptly & forcefully pushed juliette head against the wall behind her, momentarily knocking her out.

you didn't even get to process the action before you were pushed roughly against the wall, the commanders right forearm holding you down by the throat, while his left hand was disarming you.

almost as if acted on instinct, you pushed him back with a scarlet force, sending him back first onto a nearby table.

you took a second to get react, unsure of what happened, before rushing over to your sister. juliette didn't seem to be bleeding, luckily, but you figured she might have a concussion. much to your surprise, she sat up straighter attempting to act unfazed.

you were roughly yanked away by your wrist and away from juliette. you attempted a second self-defense act, but the commander was first and pulled out his gun, pointing it to your sister.

"try anything else, and i'll shoot her before you could blink."

your silence was a sign of defeat. you stood still as he unarmed you, even taking off your coat for good measure.

he released you finally then went on to do the same to juliette, who was still recovering from the slight blackout she faced from the collision with the wall - he repeated the threat to her, gun pointing in your direction this time.

you swore if you made it out of here alive you were going to learn more defensive uses of your powers to never be in a position like this again.

juliette must've been refocused on the task at hand because she starting asking the commander for the location of the hostages.

you stomach dropped when he disclosed his army is equipped and ready to take down any omega point members who are lingering by.

he went on to elaborate his plan to eliminate the "freaks" that made up the rebellion. but what got your heart beating faster was the mention of warner.

he directs his talk to you, "i admit, your sister, juliette, had piqued my interest quite a bit with her ability and history, i'd never paid much more than a glance in your direction. but what really astounded me, was when my son begged me to spare your life." he smiles, in a terrifying manor, "i just had to meet this girl whose bewitched him and spelled him into such a lovesick fool."

you felt physically stuck to your place as you listened. you didn't have to look at juliette to know she was also frozen.

'did aaron really do that?'

he turns in your direction, "i have every intention to use you to teach my son a lesson, and that will just have to include your death much to your misfortune. i really do hate to waste a pretty face." you face pales at the mention of your death.

then he faces your sister, who had taken a sudden step in front of you, "but that doesn't mean the older ferrars has to suffer the same fate and couldn't prove to be useful to join me in the capitol."

"i'd rather jump off a very steep cliff, thanks."

you wanted to laugh at your sister's retort, but you couldn't help but worry that he'd kill her for her denial. you'd rather be the sole target of his persecution than drag your sister down into it as well.

you reminded yourself adam and kenji were still around, they would surely arrive in time before either of you could be dead. you hoped.

the commander, however, does laugh at your sister's rejection, "a stubborn one you are."

"son, would you come in here, please?"

your eyes widen, warner was here this whole time.

you and juliette glanced at the same time, both being shocked at his presence.

when he appears in the doorway, all the memories of the event in his room come back to haunt you.

his face was void of any emotion, but his stare directed intensely toward you.

there was no time for small talk, because warner's father handed him a gun, meant to kill you. he places it in aaron's hand and aiming it to your head, dishing out the command to 'clean up his mess.'

you wouldn't be surprised if he had intentions to shoot you, you quite literally had shot him the last time you'd seen each other.

juliette let out yells of protests, telling warner to put the gun down.

you were preparing ways to defend yourself, mainly involving levitating an object and throwing it at either person with murderous intent toward you. but you weren't sure how you could hide the movement of your hand, and red glow of your eyes, when the attention was all on you.

but you couldn't help solely stare back into aaron's emerald green eyes. you wondered if this would be your last sight before death.

no, you refused to succumb to death like this, you wouldn't give anderson the pleasure.

you stared back into the green eyes, daring him to take a shot. this could be really courageous or terribly stupid.

then in the next instant, the gun had a new target, his father.

his father didn't look too fazed, confident that his son wouldn't shoot him, even patronizing him for it.

you didn't wait to find out if he would go through with it because now that the attention shifted, you could execute your plan of action.

the supreme and warner were both knocked down by the large heavy table being thrown at them. granted, aaron wasn't your target, but it didn't hurt to knock him down in case he intended to shoot you.

juliette took the opportunity to get the firearms the commander has taken at the beginning, and use the gun to shoot him in the leg. both legs. multiple times.

you were about to reel her back, when kenji appeared out of thin air, literally, and held juliette back from further injuring anderson.

suddenly, you remembered warner was still in the room. you looked around to find him passed out on the ground, a syringe, you guessed kenji used, next to him.

kenji tossed you as roped and told you to bound his arms, so, you knelt down on the floor next to him, carefully shifting him to place the rope.

as you did this, you noticed his features closely, how different he seemed unconscious, at peace. it kind of made him more beautiful.

out of your better judgement, you reached out slowly to touch a lock of his blonde hair, soft.

you immediately pulled your hand away when you thought you felt a stir, but you looked back to his face and he was still unconscious.

maybe, if you had looked a little closer you'd notice the ghost of a small smirk on his lips.

"we're going to take this kid hostage."

you were brought to your current situation with that statement.

"wait, what!" kidnapping wasn't on your to-do list for the day.

however, the most shocking news to be said in this room, was when adam dropped the bomb that the supreme command, warner's father, was his dad - making warner his half brother.

in the midst of all this chaos, omega point had already set off the call to attack, and now were battling against the reestablishment.

there was no time to think about events because kenji was rushing everyone out the door to get back to the safe haven.

the four of you needed to a large distraction so castle could draw back before major disaster since anderson was down and you now had taken warner. juliette promptly stepped up with an idea and create a part two of her earth-shattering ability. - which it turned out working really well because you all were able to make contact with castle.

adam and kenji did the heavy lifting of carrying aaron's heavy body while you and juliette had the task of finding a tank for the four of you to head to omega point in.

once that was settled all of you clambered into the tank, kenji taking the wheel and adam acting as second in command - that left you and juliette in the back with warner.

who was currently to the left of you, slumped against the window side of his seat, and juliette being on your right.

you weren't thrilled to have him smushed next to you. not when you were close enough to smell his cologne and feel the outline of his muscles through his jacket.

a part of you thought he would maybe wake up somewhere during the ride, but his eyes remained close. you know because you were staring at him more than you'd like to admit.

you reminded yourself what he had put you and juliette through, the asylum, the imprisonment, and the tests. it was enough to reel you back in and continue your dislike for warner.

although he was asleep, the bumps on the travel to the underground base made for a lot of jolts of movement and in turn caused warner's body to tumble onto you.

his body was heavy, but somehow it was heavier whenever you had to push him back to his side. it was like a force was trying to keep him on there.

his head somehow always slumped into the hair on the crook of your neck, and at some point, you could've sworn you felt him breathe in through his nose, like a sniff. but you wrote it off as the movement of the vehicle.

you must've passed out at a point because when you opened your eyes, you were lying against warner's shoulder.

your face was a flush of scarlet when you realized your position, but luckily juliette was fast asleep, and the two men were occupied in the front, likely going over today's events. thank god.

not long after, you all arrived at the destination and made it out of the tank.

kenji helped pull you out of the tank, not before leaving a teasing comment.

“have a nice nap, did you?”

you ignored him, but your face went red in embarrassment. he would never let you live this down.

you took a rest for a whole day before interacting with anyone. you weren't sure if you could handle any other sudden revelation without rest, especially if it involved warner.

castle came to you and juliette to discuss further the plan with warner and such. and you were reminded of the fact adam and him were technically brothers, which was kept a secret between all four of you still.

then castle gave you both the most ridiculous task; to be in charge of the questioning and occasionally visiting the prisoner. his reasoning being you both were the most acquainted with warner, and he'd be more willing to comply with at least one of you.

you wanted to decline; you didn't understand why castle always sent everyone else to do work for him - but you knew your sister was happy to finally have a real assignment for omega point; she wanted to be useful.

so the following day, you began your "mission." you sisters went to where they were holding warner, a room much like where you and juliette slept, but the difference was it closely guarded, not letting the person inside leave.

you greeted the guards, and they had looked very relieved to see you there. apparently, warner has been less than pleasant as an inmate - throwing things and demanding to speak with you, and they informed him the two of you would be arriving to calm him down.

you stepped into the room and noticed the lack of furniture, probably because he was throwing, then you saw warner sitting on a mattress on the floor, indulging himself in some sort of journal that you didn't get to get a look at before he put it away.

he looks up at your arrival with a grin, "hello amor, a pleasure to see you again at last." he scanned your attire, "i have to say, this new look on you has you looking rather ravishing."

you rolled your eyes, fighting the butterflies because of his comment. "how you manage to be a prisoner and still keep that stupid charm goes beyond me."

"i did say i'd see you soon didn't i?"

juliette gave you a confused glance, you hadn't told her about the note, nor the kiss.

you ignored what he said, trying redirect the conversation. you glanced down at his chest, "nice to see you've healed from the shot, for a moment, i thought i'd killed you."

"takes a lot more to kill me i'm afraid, however, if it's by your hand i'm more than willing to greet death like an old friend."

before you could bite back, juliette interrupted your banter with a cough, meant to serve a reminder to you to stay on task.

"right, forgot you were here juliette, perhaps you'd like to step out so your sister and could properly reunite."

god, you hated his suaveness. you hated it even more when it worked in making your heartbeat pick up.

juliette took charge of the conversation and started asking questions relevant to the establishment, but warner would either change the subject or give vague answers.

you both decided to leave after growing tired of the lack of information. you ignored warner's pleas for the company and walked out.

the next day you both tried again, meeting in from of his room. juliette, however had decided a change of tactics.

"i think you should go in without me."

you turned to her confused. she explained he would likely be more cooperative with your presence alone, his actions from yesterday proving to be in support of that.

you denied it, even if part of you believed it. you weren't sure you were ready to be in a room alone with aaron.

nonetheless, juliette left you to your own devices and rushed off, probably to find adam or kenji, before you could protest further.

you cursed her, but prepared to enter the room in front of you.

aaron was lying down, resting an arm behind his head and using the other to throw and object up and down. once he noticed you he sat up in your direction.

he noticed the lack of presence of juliette, and you could tell he was more than pleased.

"finally, i was starting to think your sister would chaperone us forever."

"don't be so eager to be alone, i could shoot you again."

"and i'd willingly take another bullet if it meant another kiss."

you couldn't help the annoying pink tint on your face that came up with the mention of the kiss.

you changed topic, "how were you able to send me that note?"

he smirked, "well for one, i noticed you after our eyes met briefly during your first time outside in the sector. after that, it was blatantly obvious who you were; that disguise did nothing to hide your gorgeous face, unfortunately for you. and then it wasn't hard to order a civilian to drop the note in your pocket while you were distracted."

you were stunned; you really hadn't thought to think he recognized you. you thought you blended in pretty well on those missions.

"okay, stop distracting me, what are your father's plans."

"hmm, maybe if you ask nicely and give me a kiss - i'd be more willing to comply."

you left shortly after that, knowing you weren't going to get much out from him.

it continued like that for a few days; you'd walk in, try to get information, but then he'd turn it back into a way to flirt with you or bring up the kiss.

this time when you walked in, you saw him reading the journal from the first day, and you were able get a better look at it. it was yours.

"hey, what are you doing with my-"

"dear diary, today i checked out a book from the library, there was a rather intimate scene between the main charact-"

you immediately recognized the writing as your own and strided across the room to aaron to snatch your journal back.

warner was quicker, standing up in a snap, keeping a distance from you as read aloud more pages.

you yelled at him to stop, catching up to him, but now he held the book to the ceiling, making it harder for you to reach because of his tall body.

you, much to your embarrassment, jumped up and down to reach the journal, wanting this humiliation to end.

"aaron, just give it back!"

all of a sudden, aaron stopped his teasing and looked down to you, a lopsided smile on his face.

"you called me aaron."

you eyes opened in horror, you just called him aaron, not warner. and he heard it.

"no. no. i said warner, you misheard." it was a terrible attempt at lying.

he smiles even wider, his dimples prominent. he reaches a free hands to lift your chin.

"please, keep saying my name, i do love how it sounds coming from you."

you felt you were gonna explode from all the emotions you were feeling, the room was getting hotter, and your heart was pounding in your ears.

you couldn't get a solid sentence our without babbling in embarrassment. so you took the coward's way - bolting out the room, abandoning the mission to retrieve your journal.

you avoided visits a few times after that incident, you were still cringing at the flashbacks, it worsened when you also remembered he had the contents of your journal and all the embarrassing things and darkest secrets you'd written inside.

unfortunately, that didn't stop you from running into warner.

you were eating lunch with kenji, he was currently explaining some princess film you'd never seen.

"wait, so how did this girl even find out when her birthday was?"

"well, obviously, mother gothel told her."

"why didn't she just lie about her birthday, or not even tell her what a birthday is?"

"i don't know, i didn't make the script."

"also does the ending mean she has power still, or was it the last of her ma-"

"oh my god, can you shut up and just appreciate the greatness that is tangled!"

"hey! you're the on-"

"well, isn't this a surprise."

you turned to the new voice that entered the conversation. aaron warner stood in front of your table, hands behind his back, and castle behind him, likely guiding him somewhere.

then you remembered your last conversation with the leader and came to the conclusion aaron was on his way to be tested, probably like adam had.

castle remained unaware of the blood shared between the two, but you did let it slip you were unable to read your mind, and he was able to make skin contact with your sister.

"well if it isn't my favorite ex-boss." kenji spoke with a mouthful of food.

aaron ignored kenji, much to kenji's offense. "amor, here have you been these days, you left quite flushed after our intimate moment in my cell."

kenji spat out his food at that last bit.

you body was filled to the brim with utter embarrassment and hate toward the way he phrased his wording to make it seem what it wasn't.

you turned to kenji who was coughing continuously, "nothing even happened!" you gave warner a glare, "stop making it seem so.. so-"

"so what, amor? i'd love to know what you think i meant by intimate."

"you are so insufferable."

castle then dragged warner along to the testing area. you couldn't deny you weren't curious to find out if he shared a gift similar to adam.

you were planning to engage with warner the next day, but his guards had come up to you during your training session demanding your presence because apparently warner was in a fit of rage.

worried, you rushed over. entering the room, warner was sitting against the wall, face in his hands. the room was in disarray, broken items of what was already so little, scattered all over the room. even his floor mattress had been tossed.

he barely acknowledged you, so you took it upon yourself to kneel down in from of him, silently asking what happened.

"castle..he told me it's possible i have an... ability. he told me i could change," he laughs humorlessly, "that there was potential for me to be.. different... possibly better."

you stayed silent, unsure of how to respond, as he bitterly ranted about his talk with castle.

"what do you think?”

“what?”

“do you believe i can change? i’d love to know what your opinion is on this, amor.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i believe… everyone can choose what they want to be. it’s up to them to decide, even if everyone tell tried to tell you who you are.”

this time, he was the one silent, looking down at his lap, likely in thought.

you took the chance to take in his attire; some black sweatpants, grey socks, and no shirt.

you probably would’ve been flustered to see him shirtless if you didn’t notice some peculiar marks peaking from his shoulder.

silently, you slowly crept to the side of aaron, still distracted. you slide far enough to get a good few of his back.

you internally gasped. his back was littered with lines of scarring - likely whipped. your stomach churned at the thought.

you also notice a big tattoo in the upper middle of his back, in all caps ‘IGNITE’.

you must’ve said it out loud because aaron’s head whipped in your direction. he turned his back away from you once he noticed where your stare was directed.

“no need to say anything, i already know how hideous it looks.”

unsure how to respond, you blurt the first thing out of your head - “i think they look cool. kind of like an abstract piece of art.”

yeah, comforting people wasn’t your forte.

luckily, aaron seemed intrigued by your statement. so you took the chance to request something further.

“can i touch your, erm, back?”

aaron was hesitant for a few moments, but then sighed and turns his back toward you.

you delicately pressed your fingers along the canvas of his back. you could feel every ridge and texture of each scar as your fingers glided over.

aaron flinched at first content, then progressively & visibly melted into your touch.

“why ‘ignite’?”

“why not?” you really hated his vagueness.

an idea popped into your head. you pulled a pen out of your jacket pocket, testing it on your own skin a few times before you started drawing lines on aaron’s skin.

“amor, what are you doing?”

“hang on.” he could feel the ink of the pen etched on his back.

“you know, my original plan was to seduce you with my perfect abs, but i guess luring you with my scars works as well.”

“shut up.” but you were smiling while saying it.

you finished connecting a few lines, “there, perfect.”

"i think you've forgotten i dont have the neck of a giraffe to twist around."

"oh, my bad." you said sheepishly. "do you have a mirror?"

"i did, then i broke it. pieces should be in a corner somewhere."

you mentally scolded his carelessness.

you managed to find a piece big enough for him to see your creation upon his skin.

"i drew a star." you wanted to facepalm at how silly it sounded.

star was a bit of a stretch, you connected lines scarred on his bank to form a lopsided and wonky-shaped star.

he just stared at it, not uttering a word. you moved to try to wipe off the mark, but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

"no," he grins, "i adore it. do more of them."

you did. it was a whole galaxy of stars embedded on him.

he stayed mute as he watched you through the shard of mirror while you doodled, but suddenly he spoke and gave you details as to what his knew of his father's plans and the location of brendon & winston.

"why are you suddenly telling me this, why now?"

"it's what your here for, isn't it."

you rushed over to castle immediately and repeated everything aaron told you. he thanked you for the information before he called in others to draw up a plot of attack. you all were to leave immediately the next day.

castle called a meeting in the lunch hall a few hours later; everyone at omega point was gathered there.

he briefed them on the commander's plans or what the plan was supposed to be so far. of course, people were suspicious of this information coming from warner, not trusting him at all; not that you could blame them.

"he's immune to both of the ferrars abilities, he can touch juliette with no issue and y/n can't get into his head. after this reveal, we did some test, and we've come to find out he's gifted like the rest of us."

the room exploded in chaos, gasps, yells, and protests coming from all different directions. a lot of ongoing looks toward your table. castle raised his voice to calm everyone down.

you and juliette didn't stick around long after, for one you already knew the information being given , and two, the stares and questions were getting annoying and uncomfortable.

however, adam shortly followed the two of you out, desperate to speak to juliette, and you knew why - warner being able to touch her.

they began talking intensely as if you weren't there. you watched from the sidelines as juliette explained her side and adam getting more frustrated.

you butted in at a point, you felt bad for the guy, but your sister came first. “adam, maybe it's best you leave to cool down.”

but your voice of reason only irritated him. “how about you stop inserting yourself into your sister’s affairs and let her speak for herself.”

"what is your issue?"

"this is between juliette and i; she doesn't need you speaking for her."

"you hypocrite, that's what you're doing right now!"

"why don't you go fraternize with warner, that's all you seem to be doing these days." adam venomously spat at you.

as if the mention of his name made him appear, warner's presence made it known. he stepped in front of you, dividing you and adam who got closer as the argument headed.

"kent, you've really got an attribute for being infuriating and vexing."

that set off the fire for an intense standoff between the two. adam, already mad at aaron, started the verbal feud.

it got so heated, kenji inserted himself between the two - trying to stop the commotion. you even grabbed aaron's arm to pull him away.

it was all happening so quick; one moment, they were shooting insults back and forth, the next instant kenji was dropping to the floor clutching his head in pain.

juliette immediately called out for help, finding castle, who brought in sonya and sara to take kenji to the medic.

adam and juliette went trailing after them, but you stayed there stunned. what did you do?

you had a flashback to the experiment - kenji reacting, in the same manner, those soldiers had after you freaked out.

you felt extremely horrible for kenji and you prayed he would be alright.

but you hadn't intended to hurt kenji nor did you exert any force in using your powers. you had better practice with your energy, so it didn't make sense.

aaron, still beside you, reached out to you - but you instinctively took a step back. you weren't sure what was happening to you, and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone else accidentally.

"probably better you stay back," you looked down at your hands in fright, "i don't have control right now, i'm don't even understand how i did that to kenji."

"because amor, you didn't injure him. i did."

your confusion only deepened with that. then he brought back the mention of his gift, and you put the puzzle pieces together as he spoke.

"so you can basically can absorb someone else's power and use it?"

"a little more complicated than that. i can sense people's energy, like right now i know you're confused and worried for your friend, but also scared of yourself for what you did, or thought you did."

he elaborated, saying he unintentionally manifested your energy when you touched him. when kenji grabbed his arm, in an attempt to pull him away, that was when he projected the energy on him and hurting him in the process.

"wait, so does that mean you have my ability to read minds too?"

"hmm, i haven't given it a chance," he smirks at you "would you like to be my test subject?"

"absolutely not."

later that night, you check with sara and sonya on kenji's condition. they informed you that he was alright, but just needed some rest. after, you met up with castle in his office, finalizing plans for the morning - the beginning of the battle.

before you said goodbye, you had a question that had been crossing your mind.

"why do you trust ar-, er, warner, what's to say he won't turn his back."

"well, i guess i can't say for sure that he won't. i just have to have faith in mr. warner that he will make the right decision for himself. and with your added presence, i'm sure he's more open to that than ever."

"what do you mean?"

"surely you realize he's in love with you. he's even told me himself."

"he..he told you he was in love with me?"

"yes, just after i was discussing his gift with him." he said it like it was the most casual thing.

you stayed to chat briefly after. you directly headed to aaron's room, no longer littered with guards since he was considered a "member." you were able to walk in with no issue.

aaron hadn't been asleep yet when you got there, he was sitting up on his bed, which had a frame now, reading a book.

you didn't give him a chance to react to your sudden intrusion before you started speaking.

"why would you tell castle you're in love with me"

he furrowed his brows, but you kept going - you were set on getting answers.

"how could you just.. say something like that, what is your motive? are you trying to get to me?"

"amor, calm down. i have no motive." he said, standing up and walking toward you.

"then why would you even say that."

"isn't it clear?" he gets nears, a hand going to cradle the underside of your face, "i meant what i said."

"you can't love someone you barely know."

"but that's just it. i do know you. i've read your mind on paper, and experienced you for myself the moment i met you. i know that you hate to be wrong, you want to clench your first when you lie, although juliette is older by a bit - you feel the need to protect her, you're afraid of the dark, but never admit it, you hate yourself for loving your powers, and you want so badly to be accepted here because of your lonely childhood. shall i go on?"

you were flabbergasted by his word, and you couldn't even deny that they weren't true.

"how do you know this?"

"because, as my dear father put it, it seem you've bewitched me, my mind, and my body."

then he kissed you. and you let him.

and you very much liked it.

it was a longing, messy, kiss - he had you against the wall, lifted by your hips to his height. you wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him deeper, not letting any thoughts or worries flow from you for the moment.

the doors opened. "y/n? are you her-" then a gasp.

you recognized the voice - juliette.

you immediately panicked and pushed aaron away, attempting an explanation yo your sister, but she was already turning her feet and running away.

you gave warner a glance before you ran off in her direction.

you caught up to her, "juliette, please, wait!"

she abruptly stopped her feet and turned to you, "what are you doing y/n? kissing warner, are everything he's done!"

"it's just... i didn't... it's not like-" you struggled to put it into words.

"so what, you- you like the guy who kidnapped us? the one who shot a guy in front of us. experimented - borderline tortured us? he made me hurt a child, y/n. a child! and now you're making out with him."

you were at a loss for words, tears starting to build up at her harsh words.

"you're an idiot if you think you could love him, and even stupider to think a cold heartless person like him could love you. and i won't have anything to do with you if you keep him in your life." and with that she waked off, leaving you in the hall.

you didn't go back to warner after your fight, nor did you go back to your room immediately. you shamefully found an empty closet to cry into for a while. once you were able to breathe normally, you went back to the shared room - luckily everyone was fast asleep.

by morning, everyone was preparing for the rescue of brendan and winston. you and juliette exchanged no words; you attempted - but was shut down every time. she had never been this mad at you. so you just suited up and went to find kenji. kenji sensed the tension between you sisters, but didn't push for information.

you came to found out from castle, aaron warner was gone - he escaped omega point. likely on his way to the reestablishment.

you didn't want to focus on why a part of you was hurt when you heard that.

the battle was not a scene for the light-hearted - anderson's men had already begun gathering civilians and spewing blood. if you didn't have a strong stomach, you'd already be spilling your guts.

midway through dodging bullets and soldiers, you felt a shift in the already dire environment. there was something wrong, and you sensed it.

you urged kenji you felt the need to return to omega point - there was something wrong. he wasn't too convinced by your vague intuition, so you sought off on your own, doing your best to avoid the battlefield.

you ran into juliette at some point, not caring for your argument at the moment, and told her your inkling. she also brushed you off, telling it wasn't a time for your dramatics.

even with no support, you went back - you couldn't ignore this feeling.

you were maybe 200 ft away from omega point when it happened. bombs were dropped on the territory - causing the destruction of the building and any remaining members who stayed behind.

the explosion was powerful - even from where you were standing, it sent you both painfully flying back. you blacked out before you could react to the tragic ending of omega point.

you regained consciousness after consecutive kicks to your ribs and a voice telling you to wake up.

in front of you stood a crippled anderson, standing with he support of a cain. his composure was calm, but you could see the hatred behind his eyes.

you painfully stood up, surveying the area. you were in a house - similar to the one from last time.

you felt weak, dizzy, and the world was a bit blurry. you were leaning on a mantle to support your standing.

"ah, the fatigue your feeling would be my own fault. had those lovely sisters inject you with something. it will incapacitate you enough that you won't be a threat. can't have you flipping tables again."

you were barely registering his words, but when he mentioned sisters it gave you a bit of a jump start. he had sara and sonya.

your words felt faint, but you demanded to know where they were. he assured you they were unharmed, but it did nothing to ease you.

midway your conversation, warner enters the room - shocked to see you there. you probably would've reacted if you weren't so dosed on drugs.

"now that we have this reunion out the way, i'm going to be generous, something you ought to appreciate. you can tell me where your sister is and where the rest of your band of freaks are. you can aid me in destroying them and only after will i grant you the mercy of joining the reestablishment."

"what do you want with juliette?"

"she did this to me," he gestured to his legs, "and now i want my compensation."

no matter the situation with your sister, you'd never give her up.

"go to hell."

he sighs, "a disappointment once again, miss ferrars." he turns to his son, "this is why it's important i teach you this very valuable lesson son."

warner goes rigid, "what do you mean?"

warner pull out his shotgun, "justice, should always be served - even if it has to be by your own means."

then you were shot right in the chest.

you blacked out, then started slipping in and out of consciousness. all you remember is blood spilling from you at a rapid pace, and aaron crouched in front of you.

you remember voices - aarons, sara, and sonya's talking in rushed voices - then it was only aaron.

"hey cmon, amor, stay with me."

"wow... getting in the chest really sucks. i feel really bad about shooting you now." you spoke deliriously.

"it's alright, i just need you to hold on a little longer." his voice strained, holding back anguish. 

but you didn't; you passed out, your last thoughts hoping juliette would throw you a nice funeral, enough though she was upset at you.