#mender!reader

[writinginatree]

Learning By Doing

Relationship(s): Brennan Sorrengail/Riorson!reader, Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader

Summary: Your skill as a first-year mender is put to the test when your boyfriend and mentor Brennan is badly injured and you're the only one available to save his life.

Warnings: Blood and injury, panic attacks, age gap

Anonymous requested: Brennan angst with an injury

(I'm low-key thinking of this as a sequel to "Caught", but you can just as well read it as a stand-alone)

You're doing homework when they carry him in. The door slamming open startles you so badly you splatter ink all over the assignment you were writing, but that scare is nothing compared to the cold fear that settles in your chest when you whirl around in your chair to see Brennan's limp form hanging between Xaden and Garrick.

You shoot to your feet and rush over to where they carefully lay him down on your bed.

Gods, there's so much blood.

The wound is hidden from sight by your brother's shadows, wrapped tightly around Brennan's stomach to hold a bundled up jacket in place. It's not enough to stench the bleeding. The precious liquid has long soaked through it, and now stains your bedsheets red around your boyfriend's torso even as you watch.

"What happened?!" you try to yell, but it comes out as a choked gasp.

Your hands shake as you take one of Brennan's between them. He's colder than he should be, pallid from how much blood he's lost.

"We were patrolling near the border when a bunch of venin came out of nowhere," Garrick explains. "Killed them all, but Brennan took a blade to the guts. I don't know how that happened exactly; we lost sight of each other in the fight."

Xaden adds, "He passed out before he could mend himself, so we brought him back here as fast as we could."

"And why the fuck did you bring him to me?" you shout. "He needs a healer!"

"No, Y/N," Xaden says calmly, putting his hands on your shoulders, "he needs a mender. And you're the only one we have here right now."

You didn't think your heart could race any faster than it already did, but at those words, it does. Sheer panic floods your body. This can't be happening. Brennan's life, resting in your inexperienced hands. You've only had your signet for half a year, barely know how to wield it. You're pretty good at mending inanimate objects — it's what you'd started practicing with — but healing people is much more complicated, even when the injury isn't too bad. And this injury is very bad.

You shake your head. "I can't!"

"You can, and you will."

"But I've never worked on a patient in critical condition before!" You've never worked on a patient at all without Brennan's guidance. "I don't— I don't even know what to do!"

"Yes, you do. Take a deep breath and focus," your brother instructs. "You've got this. Just remember your lessons with Brennan, and don't panic."

Xaden is right, of course. If you let the panic consume you, Brennan is as good as dead. You need to do something about his wound, not stand here and freak out. There's no guarantee you'll be able to save him, but you can try. You have to.

But if you fail—

The thought steals your breath and keeps you rooted in place. You'll never forgive yourself if Brennan dies because of your inadequacy as a mender.

"Then don't fail," your dragon's voice sounds in your head, uncompassionate as always.

He makes it sound much simpler than it is, but he has a point. Failure is not an option.

"You could have warned me that Brennan is hurt when you saw them land," you accuse, but the beast only scoffs.

"So you could have worked yourself into a full-blown panic before they even got him inside?" he mocks. "I don't think so. Now quit wasting time and get to work. Unless you want him to die, of course."

Your dragon's familiar snark helps you break through the panic. He's right. This isn't the time for fear.

One of the first things Brennan taught you about mending people was that you must never ever panic when faced with an injury. If you do, your patient will freak out, too. Not relevant in this case, since he's unconscious and you wouldn't be in this terrible situation if he was awake. But more importantly, fear will distract you from doing your job. That's why no matter how much blood there is, how horrible the sight of the wound, you must ignore those feelings and focus on the task before you. Steady hands, a clear head — that's what you need. No room for fear or hesitation.

With a deep breath, you reach for the jacket covering the wound and pull it away. The rivulets of blood flowing down Brennan's side immediately turn into rivers. You need to hurry. You don't know how much blood he's already lost, but it has to be a lot.

Putting your hands directly to the source of the blood, you desperately try to remember everything Brennan taught you.

When you'd progressed from mending inanimate objects to assisting in the infirmary, Brennan taught you some basic facts you needed to know about the inner workings of the human body, but he'd only briefly brushed on the topics of internal bleeding and mending organs. That kind of stuff was too difficult, he'd said, until you were more used to working with living tissue. Flesh and bone are much more complex than a piece of wood or ceramics, which had been your main practice materials at the beginning. Stomach wounds are especially complicated — too many organs that could be affected, too much you could do wrong.

But you don't have a choice.

You close your eyes, visualize the torn tissue beneath your hands, and try not to think too much about the blood seeping between your fingers. If you get this right, the bleeding will stop soon enough.

Before you can close the entry wound, you need to heal any damage the blade might have done inside Brennan's body. That's the hardest part, fixing something you can't see. You have only the vaguest idea of what each organ looks like, where it sits. Something is bleeding in there, your power tells you that, tugging, wanting deeper into him. You can mend whatever it is. Probably.

You imagine the tissue knitting back together, blood clotting to close off the opening it's flowing from, scar tissue growing and smoothing out. You can only hope the organ will continue working the way it's supposed to once you're done, because you don't have the knowledge necessary to fix any complex damage to it, can't even tell how much damage there is or which organ it is you're working on.

If it's his stomach, you're fucked. In that case, his stomach contents might have poured out into his abdominal cavity, and you have no idea what you could do about that.

Oh please, please don't let it be his stomach, you pray to whichever gods might care to listen.

But no. A detail surfaces in your mind from your anatomy lesson. When Brennan had touched on the topic of stomach problems, he'd briefly put his hand on yours, indicating where the organ was situated. You'd only been together for a couple weeks at that point, and your skin had tingled with a million butterflies even through two layers of clothes — above your bellybutton. Brennan's wound is a little to the side of his bellybutton. Probably not the stomach then. That's good.

You think it might be his liver, but you're not certain. Whatever it is, you're done healing the cut on it's front now. If it still works, or if it took more damage than you can tell, only time will show.

Thankfully, no other organs seem to be hurt, so you move on to closing Brennan's abdomen.

Starting with the innermost layer, you force flesh and muscle and what little fat he has to grow back together. This, you're familiar with. You've healed plenty of deep cuts before; this part is not all that different from healing someone's arm or leg.

The gaping wound turns first into a thin line still oozing blood, growing less and less deep with every layer you put back together. By now, your hands are shaking with the effort of channeling so much magic, much more than you're used to, but you push through. Almost done. Brennan will be fine, if you did it right. If you didn't miss any internal bleeding.

You shake your head. No use thinking about that. You can only keep going.

Last comes the skin, closing the wound off with a thick, reddened rope of scar tissue.

As soon as it's done, you collapse into a heap beside the bed. Xaden is there in an instant, stopping you from hitting your head on the floor. He helps you sit, leaning against the bed, as the three of you inspect your work. It's not pretty, but it's the best you could do with a wound so severe. Brennan could have done better, could have probably healed it without even a trace of a scar. Doesn't matter, as long as he just survives. He can smooth the scar out himself once he's awake if he wants to.

You watch the rise and fall of his chest, hypnotized. With every breath he takes, you send a silent prayer of thanks to Malek for not taking him from you.

There's nothing more you can do now, except wait for him to wake up.

You startle when Garrick hands you a glass of cold juice. When did he get that? You must have been more zoned out than you realized.

You're shaking so badly you spill some of the juice over yourself before your brother's shadows wrap around your hands like gloves to steady them. You give both boys a grateful look, draining the whole glass in slow, tiny sips. The sugar almost immediately helps.

Xaden is the first to break the silence. "Is he stable?"

"Probably. I've done everything I can. We just have to wait and hope—" Your voice cracks. "Hope it was enough and he wakes up soon."

Xaden brushes sweaty strands of hair from your face. "He'll be fine," he reassures. He sounds so certain you almost believe him. "You did great. Now get some rest."

"I'm not leaving him."

"I'm not asking you to. We'll take him to his room and you can lie down with him, okay?"

Right — because your own bed is currently covered in a pool of Brennan's drying blood. You don't particularly like the idea of moving him, but — as per usual — Xaden is right. There's no telling how long Brennan will remain unconscious, and you can't leave him lying in his own blood in the meantime.

"Okay."

Your brother helps you to your feet and keeps close to your side as you walk the short way to Brennan's room, ready to catch you in case your legs give out again. Garrick carries Brennan. By the time you reach his room, your vision is threatening to turn black, but you make it to his bed before collapsing again.

Lying with your head on Brennan's chest, the steady beat of his heart soon lulls you into a doze. You're aware of the sound even as you fade in and out of consciousness, know you would immediately notice and wake if it were to stop.

During your waking moments, you remind yourself that it's normal for him to take a while to wake up after losing as much blood as he did, but it's hard to ignore the voice in your head that says it's your fault. If you were a better mender, he might be awake already. And what if he doesn't wake at all? What if he's in a coma, slowly dying from internal injuries you missed?

Xaden and Violet poke their heads through the door a few times. Your brother makes you drink another glass of juice and eat a few bites, but other than that, they don't disturb you.

Dusk falls without Brennan awakening, but the color is slowly returning to his cheeks.

Your sleep is fitful, filled with nightmares of blood and Brennan's lifeless face. Time over time you jerk awake with tears streaming down your face, calming only after you assure yourself that Brennan is beside you, unconscious but alive and breathing.

When you wake for what must be the dozenth time, it's not from a nightmare. This time, it's Brennan stirring beside you.

You sit up faster than your exhausted body likes, sending waves of dizziness through your head, but you're so focused on Brennan you barely notice. He's waking up!

"Hi," you breathe when his eyes fully open and find your face, illuminated by the small mage light you'd left on.

"Hi. What happened?"

The tears burning behind your eyes spill over at the sound of his voice, low and slightly hoarse and alive. You'd been so scared you'd never get to hear his voice again, never see him look at you, or smile, or do anything again.

But he's awake now. He's okay. The relief is so overwhelming that if you weren't sitting in bed already, you surely would have fallen to your knees.

"That's what I'd like to know from you," you answer Brennan through your tears. "Xaden and Garrick brought you in half dead, and there wasn't any other menders around, so I had to try and save you! I was so scared I'd fuck it up and lose you, and t-then you wouldn't wake up even after I stopped the bleeding and I didn't— didn't know what to do and— and—"

Brennan sits up, cooing soothingly, and pulls your sobbing form into his arms.

Probably not a good idea — you have no idea if you really managed to fix all of the damage to his organs, and even if you did he shouldn't be moving around just yet. But now that he's awake, he can heal anything you might have missed himself.

You hide your face against his neck, cling to him like he might disappear any second if you let go. You shouldn't be crying, but you can't seem to stop. All the emotions you'd had to push aside earlier come pouring out now that you know he'll be okay.

"Shh, shh, it's alright. I'm awake now. It's alright. You did such a good job. I'm proud of you, little angel."

You're a shitty mender, forcing Brennan to comfort you when he has been awake for less than a minute. You should be taking care of him.

"I didn't, though," you mumble against his skin. Still crying, but calmer already. "I got the wound to close, but then I was too weak to smooth the skin so now you've got this big raised scar and there might be internal damage I missed, so you'll have to check and fix it yourself even though you should be resting, all just because I'm not a good enough—"

"Hey, none of that," Brennan interrupts. "You're a first-year. We haven't even covered stomach wounds in your lessons yet, and you managed to heal mine anyway. That's really fucking impressive."

"You really think so?" you sniffle.

"Mhm, I do. And it doesn't feel like you missed any damage, either. You did a great job, believe me."

"What about the scar?"

Brennan gently shifts you to the side so he can lift his shirt and take a look. You cringe at the sight, not because it's ugly or anything like that, but because it feels like an attestation of your inadequacy.

Brennan just hums. "Doesn't look so bad to me. Just like it would look if it healed naturally."

"You could have healed it without leaving any scar at all," you mumble. "Still can, probably."

"Maybe, but that's only because I've been doing this for a lot longer than you. In a year or two, you'll be able to do that too. Besides, I don't want to erase the scar."

You frown up at Brennan as he wipes away the tears drying on your cheecks. "You don't?"

"Of course not, silly. Why would I want to erase the evidence of how brave you were, mending me when you barely knew how? It might not be the prettiest, but it's your work."

"Technically it's the work of the asshole who tried to gut you."

"Right. But you know what I mean. I'm really proud of you." He takes your hands, kissing the knuckles of one and then the other. "Thank you, by the way."

You give him a shaky smile. "Just do me a favor and never scare me like that ever again."

"I'll do my best."

[readerviews]

"The Mender" by Jennifer Marchman

A Read That Will Charm Your Intellect #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

The Mender Jennifer MarchmanIndependently Published (2023)ISBN:  ‎ ‎‎979-8397298322Reviewed by Ephantus M for Reader Views (09/2023) Jennifer Marchman’s “The Mender” is an appealing blend of science fantasy and historical romance, and the first installment of The Mender Trilogy. The novel showcases an epic historical journey through pre-revolutionary Texas, through the adventures of a stranded…

[fireheartpages]

my boy | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader

masterlist

word count: 4.9k

summary: the three times bodhi called you his, and the first time you called him mine.

notes: second person pov with a femreader. canon typical violence. no use of y/n. written in past tense bc by the time i realized it was too late! human beings are flawed by nature. turned out a lil angstier and longer than i intended. onyx storm fucked me up so bad and i missed him. the scene that inspired this whole thing got cut so do with that what you will. set during iron flame. in my head this is bodhi and baby from toml but you don’t have to read that to read this. just a lil drabble. also bringing back headers bc my fics need a little sparkle. proofread after three glasses of wine.

Your face stung.

"I'm sorry," Bodhi said quickly, hand jerking back. "I know, I just—"

"It's fine." You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, like maybe if you didn't see the bloodied cloth with antiseptic on it, it would hurt less.

"That flier did a real number on you," he said quietly, and you felt the warmth of his hand settle on your cheek, before the cool bite against the wound.

"Those challenges are bullshit," you ground out.

There was a heavy sigh, and then the touch lightened. You opened your eyes to see he had moved his hand away, setting the rag down. "I think you need to see a mender."

You shook your head. "It's a scratch. Put an adhesive on it."

"There's a lot of swelling," he said, waves of concern radiating off of him. "What if there's a fracture?"

"I will heal," you snap.

You watch as his eyes flare with surprise, and he quickly masks the hurt. You sigh, shoulders slouching.

"I'm sorry." You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling him closer. "I'll be okay, Bo. Seriously."

"Let me go get Brennan," he said gently. "Just to check—"

"I really don't want you to," you said, pleaded, and he seemed to relent. "None of us can have preferential treatment."

"It's not preferential treatment if you need it," he whispered, gingerly placing a bandage across your cheekbone.

"It was an ill-timed punch," you said. "I'll live."

You met his gaze as he pulled back, and he seemed to search you, looking for something you couldn't name. He sighed, looking down.

“Your hands?”

Your head snapped up, and you quickly tucked your hands away, forcing yourself to stop picking at the peeling skin. Wrapping them for sparring always made it a little bit worse.

“It’s fine.”

He only sighed and pulled your wrists gently, tugging them until he could see the splitting on your palms, between your fingers. He reached for the extra salve you kept next to his bedside, and gently began to message it into the skin there, taking extra care where it had split and where it was the thinnest. "Not all fliers are so bad. Syrena is really nice, if you ever get the chance to meet her."

"I like Maren," you supplied, studying the lines of his face. The delicate hook of his nose, the arch of his upper lip, the slope of his cheekbones. "Her best friend is a real piece of work, though."

Bodhi laughed at that, exchanging out your hands. "Yeah, Catriona is... a lot."

"That's one way to say it," you mumbled. You sucked in a deep breath—and wince. A hand went to your ribs.

Bodhi’s head snapped up, a furrow between his strong brows, and he abandoned his task, instead cradling your side with one hand and your face in another. Concern laced in his features. "You didn't say your ribs were hurting."

"I didn't realize they were," you answered. "Got me better than I thought, I guess."

He shook his head. "Let me—"

"No." You cut him a glare, but there wasn’t much menace behind it. "I'll be okay. I just need... sleep, probably."

"Let's get in bed."

You screwed up your nose. "We still have half a day of classes."

"Fuck that," he said sincerely. "My girl is hurt."

You arched a brow. "Your girl?"

He flashed a sheepish smile, ducking his head as his curls fell over his temple. "Sorry, I just... liked the way it sounded."

You sucked in a breath. Suddenly, there was too little space between you. "You still have half a day of classes."

"There is literally nothing I care about less," he said earnestly. "Let me lay down with you. Please."

You glanced at the bed, the black blanket covering it looking like the most inviting thing you'd ever seen. You sighed. "I'm fine. We should go."

"Baby," he said, and you liked the way it sounded. You always liked the way it sounded.

“We probably shouldn’t walk back together,” you said, reaching for your flight jacket. You winced as you tried to pull it over yourself.

A hand on your shoulder stopped you, and Bodhi gently spun you around to face him. “This is about the ‘my girl’ comment,” he said, and pinned you with a look that made all the fight leave your body.

“No,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t sure if it was the truth. You sighed. “I just don’t want people to get any ideas.”

He stepped back. “You don’t wanna be seen with me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you said quickly. “You’re talented, and you’re in leadership, and I’m a year below you. With everything between us and the fliers now, someone’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

His shoulders slumped. “You don’t want someone saying you slept your way to safety.”

You nodded, looking down, because it was suddenly impossible to meet his eye. Your cheeks heated. "I can fend for myself."

“Okay,” he said, taking a step closer. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your gaze until you were forced to look at him. You expected sadness, hurt, disappointment even, but all you found was mirth. “Sure. I like a good secret anyways. Makes it more fun.”

You couldn’t have even tried to fight the smile as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was delicate at first, gently exploring, sensing what you would give him. But you had learned a long time ago that there wasn’t a lot you wouldn’t do for the boy in front of you.

Your hands found the nape of your neck, twisting into the curls there, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

He broke the kiss only for a moment. “Can it still stay a secret, and we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”

“Someone’s gonna notice we’re both missing,” you say, barely more than a whisper against his cheek.

He brushed his nose against yours. “My cousin owns the place. I think we can get away with it.”

You giggled, nodding as he pulled you back. He sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly framing you between his thighs and looked up at you reverently. His lips were glossy from your kiss, eyes half lidded, and you breath caught in your throat at the sight of him gazing up at you. He smiled lazily.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and you couldn’t help but think the same about him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You had to stop finding yourself in these situations.

The same flier that had challenged you was in front of you and spitting mad. You weren’t even sure what it was about this time, but his shouting had drawn a crowd. Your cheek hadn’t even fully healed yet, and now you had another split lip. Courtesy of this asshole.

You couldn’t even remember his name if you tried. Something with an A? Ash, maybe? It didn’t really matter, once he started swinging. He was a first year, and unused to the fighting style of riders, but by Dunne if he wasn’t giving you a run for your money.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Violet and Sawyer come up behind you, thankful for the back up. Sawyer immediately tried to shove him off you, but was quickly gifted a darkening bruise around his eye.

“What the hell is your problem?” That voice belonged to Ridoc, and you weren’t even sure when he had gotten there. More people pushed around you, until you were surrounded by what looked like your entire section.

Including Bodhi.

“I thought you riders lived and died by your stupid Codex!” the flier spat.

“Our stupid codex says also says I can kill you if I feel like it, so maybe watch where you put your hands,” you snapped, and you feel someone brush at your shoulder.

But not before the flier’s fist landed square in your jaw.

Damn, he must have remembered where he hit you the first time, because the pain is blinding for a moment. The edges of your vision darkened, and you stumbled into a strong, familiar chest. An arm wrapped around you, and you’re shoved to the side. You felt the vibrato of his words in his chest, as if the anger was a palpable thing.

“Touch my girl again and you’ll lose the fucking hand—”

“Bodhi!” you snapped, turning to him with blazing eyes, because now he’d really done it.

Fuck, you practically felt the surprise radiating off of half of the people surrounding you—and there were a lot of people gathered for the show.

The anger in your morphed into something else—something new, something more volatile. Now, you were pissed at this flier, and ready to throttle Bodhi. Gods, you just had this fucking conversation. What did he think he was doing saying shit like that—

“Getting out of a fight because you’re warming leadership’s bed is a lot blow, even for a rider,” the flier said, and you saw red.

More shouting erupted. Bodhi nor anyone remaining soul had even a hope of catching you before you threw the next punch at the flier. It made its mark, landing so hard he stumbled back. Blood immediately sprayed from his nose, and you were too pissed off to care. You shoved the hands grabbing you off, ready to lay into the kid again, but a familiar figure pushed through. Rhiannon got in between the three of you, holding a hand up and sending Bodhi one of the nastiest glares you thought you’d ever seen her produce.

“Am I seriously breaking up fights between other cadets and my Section Leader?” Rhiannon hissed, and Bodhi faltered for a moment, looking to her, then to you, then back to the flier. “This is ridiculous. Go find something else to do with your spare time. Asper, you’re a first year. Pick on someone your own size if you want a chance to win the fight.”

“That’s—”

“I’m not finished.” She turned to you and Bodhi, opening her mouth to say something before shaking her head. “You two… I’m just disappointed. A second year and a Section Leader? Get yourselves under control before you embarrass me any further.” She looked back to Asper, who was still seething at you and Bodhi. “Go find something more productive to do with your time before I find something for you. You won’t like my pick, I promise.”

The flier scoffed. “You’re not even my squad leader.”

Another flier in brown leathers with a mop of brunette hair piled on top of her head appeared behind him. She wore a frown and looked utterly annoyed. “No, but I am.” She grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him away from your trio, but not before Asper managed to send a parting glare over his shoulder.

Rhiannon shipped to the two of you, eyes blazing. “Seriously?” she asked, and there was no part of you that wanted to respond. “He’s a first year.”

“He started it!” you protested, and immediately shrunk back. Wrong move.

Rhiannon shot Bodhi a glare. “You’re a Section Leader. You should have been the one to finish it.”

She marched away without a second glance, leaving the last part unsaid. That if you were any other second year, in any other situation, it wouldn’t have escalated the way it did.

A snort came from behind you. You turned and shot Ridoc a glare, but it didn’t deter him from opening his mouth.

“Didn’t know you guys were public like that.”

Four pairs of eyes turned on him.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

You were pissed, and everyone around you knew it. Including, no other than the object of your chagrin.

"I just don't understand why you're mad at him," Saywer said for what felt like the millionth time, and you groaned at the history book in front of you.

"I do get it," Ridoc supplied from where he was seated next to Sawyer, the pair of them across from you at the study table you had snagged in the library. You were supposed to be working on assignments. The boys in front of you had, however, taken it upon themselves to lecture you your love life. Ridoc hadn't even opened the book in front of him. "I just think you're over-reacting."

"Bad choice of words," you warn, shooting him a scalding glare. He remained unperturbed.

"Sure," he continued. "But you know what I mean. Things are different now. Aretia isn't Basgiath. The rules are looser—"

"Hold on," Sawyer interjected.

"I mean, just look at Riorson and Vi," Ridoc continued. "Everyone knows they're together. And he's a lieutenant."

"We are not Xaden and Violet," you said, exasperated. "The point is that I didn't want to shout it from the roof tops. Because look what happens when you do!"

"The fliers hate us," Saywer supplied helpfully. "Your relationship status really has nothing to do with that. They would have chosen one thing or another to be picking fights about anyway."

"Besides, with Violet here, you and Durran are the least of their problems," Ridoc finished.

"You're still missing the point," you said, shaking your head.

"Explain it to me like I'm five, then," Ridoc said, attention focused on you. He had his arms crossed over his textbook. This study session was a damn lost cause.

"She's been doing that," Sawyer mumbled. He looked up to you, then behind you, and his eyes went wide. Ridoc glanced behind you as well, and you almost turned to look—you assumed it was Jesinia. Sawyer had been downright smitten lately, but there was the audible smack of Ridoc hitting his friend under the table. He shook his head.

"Ignore him," Ridoc said, attention turned back to you. "Continue."

You sighed, resigning yourself to the torture of having to explain this bullshit out loud. You had to admit, though. Having people to talk about it all with helped, even if it made you feel more and more like an idiot.

"Yeah, there's the fact that anyone who knows about..." You cringed. "…our situation is going to assume I'm sleeping with him for safety. Or power. Or whatever the hell they think. And that's annoying, because it's a mark on my character. But it also degrades what we have. And so we had that conversation, and I set a boundary, and then the second things get hairy, he crosses it. He makes both of us look like an ass. Makes me look like I can't protect myself without him there. If it had gotten out some other way, I couldn't have handled it. I've never been afraid of the gossip mill. But saying we're together and him overstepping and trying to fight my battles or me are two completely different things."

Ridoc nodded sagely. Sawyer just glanced behind you with wide eyes.

"Baby," and, oh, you know that voice.

You spun around, standing quickly as your pulse skyrocketed. Bodhi was behind you, looking for all the world like you had just kicked his puppy. Or maybe he was the kicked puppy. You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You whipped back to Ridoc. The bastard had a shit-easting grin on his face.

"You did that on purpose," you accused.

He just shrugged. "Wanted to make this all easier on you."

Sawyer smacked him upside his head.

You turned back to Bodhi, ready to say something, but all you could was shake your head.

"I didn't know," he said, and he took a step towards you. You took one back.

His face crumbled, and it was the sort of things a playwright put in a tragedy. Your chest nearly caved in at the sight of his fallen expression, and something broke inside you. Cracked right in two, and you knew then and there that the only glue capable of putting it together again was him.

"You just assumed," you said softly.

He sucked in a sharp breath, nodding. He was no longer looking at you. "Can we talk? Please?"

You grabbed your book from the table, sending Ridoc one last parting glare. You shook your head as you stepped towards him. "I'll see you tonight."

You made for the exit of the library, and when you rounded the corner, you had assumed he had let you go. That you'd made it all the way out.

"Wait, please."

You slowly spun around to see him there.

"I don't like watching my girl walk away upset," he said, low, quiet, and intimate. Private, just for you.

You sucked in a shaky breath. You held out a hand to the library door, as if you could motion at all of your thoughts and feelings and emotions like they were tangible things. "You heard what I said, I guess."

Bodhi nodded, and this time, when he stepped towards you, you didn't step away. "I'm sorry. Gods, I am so, so—"

"Can we talk about this later?" you asked, voice thick.

Bodhi's brow had a deep burrow, and it was clear he wanted to object, but he didn't. He instead shut his mouth, and nodded.

"I'll see you tonight," you said.

And like a fool, you walked away from him.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

There’s not much time for relaxing anymore. No more weekends, no more free time, and certainly no more parties. Leaning to fight venin is hard work.

But every once in a while, someone makes it happen. Leave it to a bunch of bored, pent-up twenty-somethings to find a stash and have a party. The alcohol wasn’t good, by any means, but it was making your head foggy, and you had nothing to do until, like, noon the next day. You were practically free.

It was the best you had felt in a long while. Everything was a little hazy around the edges, and you had trouble staying perfectly still now. There was a makeshift bar at the dais of the room where everyone took meals, and you had ventured up to get yourself a drink. And one for… Shit. You were not supposed to return empty handed. You just weren’t sure how many not empty handed you should be returning with.

When you stumble, there are strong hands on your hips, steadying you. Strong hands that settled much too low to be casual, but you are much too far gone to have reprimanded him. Or, noticed, or cared that much.

“Careful,” Bodhi said, and it was low in your ear, a little more sensual than it should have been.

But then he stood a respectable distance away from you. And through your alcohol-induced haze, he looked so good. You knew, distantly, that you were still pretty annoyed with him. But his leathers were casually undone at the top, just enough to be a tease. His hair was mussed, black curls that fell in a way that should be messy but instead just drove you insane. Like, this should be against the codex. Just looking at him made you want to leave. Made you want to be back in his room, showing your appreciation, giving him your own apology with your mouth.

“I think Violet’s drunk,” Bodhi said, and his gaze was somewhere beyond you.

You frowned. “We’re all drunk.”

Bodhi cocked his head. “I think she’s a little more drunk.”

You nodded sagely. Fair enough.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Or, at least, makes it to Xaden okay.”

You nodded again, and he departed with a smile that made you giggle like a damn school girl. He was so aware of the effect he had on you. He just chose not to care.

Or maybe, he was finally respecting the line in the sand you had drawn.

“All alone in a room full of people who could kill you? Where's your body guard?” a voice asked.

You turn, and it’s Asper. The fuck ass flier that beat you up, like, twice now. What the hell—

“What do you want?” You tried for venom, but it came out a bit more slurred than you would have liked. Too round about the edges, too loose.

“I know we settled our differences,” Asper said, and he held up a hand. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Then what do you want?” you repeated, and it was a little whiny this time. Fuck. Great.

“You know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was the last thing you had expected to have come out of his stupid mouth.

No way this fucker was hitting on you.

“What?” you snapped. Wisely.

“You’re smart. Clearly good in combat,” Asper said. Like that was an answer. “And you’re beautiful.” He leaned in, like the two of you were sharing a secret. “You could do so much better than the dragon feed around here.”

You were picked by a dragon through.

“He’s flirting,” said a voice. Your dragon. Thank you. As if that wasn’t painfully obvious enough. You go to say that down the bond, but you can’t find the right channel. Shocair grumbled. “I heard it.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” you said, “I’m not interested.”

“I think you are,” Asper said. He stepped closer. He put his hand on yours.

“My boy’s gonna get real angry if you keep fucking trying your luck,” you snapped.

“Your boy?” he asked, and he was laughing. The asshole was laughing.

You yanked your hand back, and reveled at the look on his face. Anything to wipe that smug grin off his face. “Yeah. My boy.”

Asper rolled his eyes, and for a moment, you had a vision of punching him. Of clocking him square in the jaw, sending blood flying. Your words were a lot steadier than you felt. As soon as you stood up, the world spun. But then there was a hand at your waist, and everything straightened out. Gods, you knew him by touch alone, knew him even through the haze of alcohol. You could be deprived of every sense you have, and still know his presence by memory. He was ingrained in you.

“You heard her,” Bodhi said, low and dangerous and angry and—fuck, really really hot. “She’s not interested. And she shouldn’t need to threaten you with senior leadership to get you to fuck off, Asper.”

The flier scoffed. “I don’t think she’s talking about her section leader.”

Bodhi stepped around you, and shoved him. Hard. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a section leader or her fucking husband. When a woman says no, she means it.”

Asper held his hands up in surrender, turning a deep shade of red and finally walking away. But not before throwing glare back to Bodhi.

When he turned around to you, finally, your cheeks were hot, your breathing choppy. You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Fuck, you hadn’t realized he would over hear you. Hadn’t realized what kind of effect his words would have on you.

Possessive Bodhi was one thing. When he would leave bruises all over your chest and neck, knowing when you stripped your leathers for sparring, they would be visible. When he keeps his hand in the small of your back for a little too long in formation. When he cleans your wounds and punches fliers and calls you his girl.

But protective Bodhi? You were fighting to stay upright.

He knew you knew how to fight your own fights. You were a decent fighter and could fly circles around rider and flier alike. If someone had an issue, or someone started something, you were good on the follow through. That first fight, or the second when he interfered weren’t about anything other than making it known to everyone else that you were together.

When the end factor was nothing less than a name in front of yours, of his girl tacked onto everything, you were chagrined. When the end factor was keeping you safe, was making sure you had arms to fall into at night? All bets were off.

���Are you okay?” Bodhi asked, a deep furrow finding home between his brow.

You couldn’t catch your breath. Gods above, the way he was looking at you—

“I didn’t know you were there,” you answered.

"I didn't mean to overstep," he said quickly, averting his gaze.

"You didn't," you replied, and suddenly, your eyes were watering. You swallowed around the knot in your throat. "I'm being an asshole."

His head snapped up, and you weren't sure if it was your words or the emotion in your voice that brought the panicked look to the set of his brow, the line of his lips. "No, baby, no—"

"I got overwhelmed," you barrel on. "I got scared, and worried, and I I feel like I'm punishing you for it."

Bodhi shook his head frantically, carefully stepping towards you like you were a scared animal he was trying to approach. "You set a boundary," he said. "I could never fault you for that."

You tried to nod, but instead the tears started to slip out. God, this had to be the alcohol. You were not a crier.

Gingerly, Bodhi's hands were on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing away the escaped tears. "Is this okay?" he whispered.

"All of it is okay," you said meekly. "I was holding onto an idolized version of what I wanted in my head. But people know now, and the world isn't ending."

He laughed, pulling you into him. Your head rested on his chest, right at the perfect angle for him to tuck you under his chin. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and it felt like coming home.

"I never meant to push your boundaries, and I'm so sorry I ever did," he said into your hair. "I know exactly what you're capable of. I don't want you to ever think I'm going to willfully underestimate you."

"I know," you whisper into the fabric of his shirt, and the it occurred to you just how many people were around you. You had just made about a big fuss about the levels of PDA you were willing to accept. And now, here you were. You pulled back. "Can we go back to your room?"

He nodded firmly, eyes raking down your body. "Yes," he said. But he didn't move. "How much have you had to drink?"

You considered for a moment, tilting your head. "Not too much to have not been able to coherently have this conversation, but enough to want to ask you for a kiss right now."

He smirked. Damn infuriating smirk. Gods above, he was beautiful. "A kiss? What, just to tide you over?

"Yeah," you replied, not even bothering to hide how desperate you well and truly were. Your entire body had started to hum.

He leaned in, his head tilted to fit against you. He stopped, his lips a breath away from yours. "In front of all these people?"

"Everyone knows by now. Gossip mill in this place is honestly rather impressive," you said. "Besides, if anyone says anything, I'll just send you after them." You pouted. "I don't even like sparring. I'm no good at it."

He'd leaned in even closer, practically speaking into your mouth. "I can teach you."

"Every time you try to teach me to spar better, I end up pinned underneath you and we end up rushing back to your room. You have absolutely no pure intentions when it comes to sparring. Will you kiss me now?"

He didn't say anything else. Just pressed a smile against your lips. It sent sparks down your spine, and you couldn't help the way you sucked in a breath. It was entirely involuntary, the way your body bowed into him, like you're magnetized in your very core to his.

The kiss was gentle at first, just the press of his lips against yours, but then you opened your mouth, pushing back into him, and his tongue ran along your bottom lip. Your knees nearly gave out.

"Your room," you said, and it was a plea down to its very roots.

Bodhi practically dragged you out of the hall. The trip back to the residential wing was a blur. He kept stopping to kiss you, to run his hands along your waist, up the nape of your neck just to watch you shiver. Finally, and with great effort, the pair of you made it up the corridor and to his room.

He shoved open the door, and snaked an arm around your waist, pressing you into the wall next to it, just inside his room. His lips trailed up your neck, and you nearly whimpered at the contact.

When he pulled away to look at you, his eyes were heavy and lidded, low and dark. So full of adoration and yearning that your chest felt weird. Like it was rearranging so that if you wanted to slot Bodhi's beating heart in next to your own, you could.

"Your boy, huh?" he asked, voice husky.

You smiled, carding your fingers through his hair. "My boy."

Bodhi kicked the door shut behind him, and ascended on you.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, morning sex, come marking?, cock warming) DOWN BAD!DAEMON, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this chapter became 6k+ words so i had to split it T_T. at least that means i'll be updating relatively faster lol. i hope you enjoy since all the fluff is here HAHAHAH and if you do, please leave a comment/reblog to let me know <3 <3 <3. once again, the high valyrian is internet translated, so it might be wrong. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Otto nods as he passes a group of clergy members. He makes his way down the otherwise empty temple, eyes forward as he clutches a firm figurine in his hand. He grunts as he gets down on his knees in front of a fresco of the seven pointed star.

He lights three candles in front of him, saying three different names each time. He places the figurine he brought with him beside them. Of course, it wasn't a figurine but a woolen doll. He says another name, your name, then starts this prayers.

"Father, guard my family through this trying time, my son, my daughters... my daughter," he brushes the face of the doll then closes his eyes. "Stranger, put the souls of the departed Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest.

"Warrior, strengthen my daughter and spare her and her unborn child from succumbing the same fate. Mother, grant her comfort and good health through her journey to motherhood. Crone, guide her and grant her good discernment, so that she may not fear the unknown. Maiden, preserve her beauty, her light."

He opens his eyes and stares at the point that represented the Smith. He grits his teeth before sighing in defeat, "Smith, fortifier... mender... I beg," he sighs, "mend her heart. Mend her body. I beseech you. Let not my prayer fall deaf on your ears any longer."

The candlelight before him glows as he waits another day for the answer to his decade old prayer.

Meanwhile, the candles in your room have long been put out, including the one you normally keep lit by your bed. You are first to rouse today, and yet you could not rise from bed, as you were pressed beneath the body of your husband. Daemon sighed contentedly on your chest, one arm and leg draped over you. You have never slept together (or so you think) so you figured that Daemon probably moved a lot in his sleep, which is how you both ended up in this position.

You stare at the top of his head, continuing to brush through his silver hair. In truth, you did not want to rise. You wanted to stay in this peace, in this stillness. It would not last long, you knew it— you dreaded it.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel your husband's hand brush over your belly before hooking on to your hip. You begin to feel your heart race as you remember what your father told you the night before.

How could you tell him? How could you possibly tell Daemon that you were with child, when you knew he was so diligent in assuring you would not be? Was it even possible to carry his seed when he never finished inside you?

Against yourself, you remember the day you caught Gwayne kissing a lady behind a curtain, and how you attacked him because you thought he had gotten her pregnant. The poor girl ran away as you beat your twin, and Gwyane defended himself, saying that's not how you do it. You did not know any better, so you told him you did not believe him and nearly forced him to go to your father to announce you would be marrying the lady. He, in turn had to explain what he knew, to both your horror.

You were no fool to simply believe the words of your stupid twin, so you made it your mission to find out the truth. After sneaking books from the Citadel itself, you read many a book only to find out your twin was telling you the truth.

That was why dread rippled across your skin, for could there ever be a world where Daemon purposefully pulled out and is not angered by this news, where he does not accuse you of infidelity?

You go between worry and peace as you brush your fingers across the prince's skin. You try to convince yourself that all will be well, but each time you do, another part of your mind raises that nothing's ever been well with you. You decide then, even if just for this moment, you will pretend the calmness of your husband will remain.

But the world is cruel, for at this same moment, Daemon awakens.

He stirs with a groan, face rubbing against your sternum. The robe you had on was no longer covering your chest. Your heart races as he looks up at you, his violet eyes still sleepy, "sȳz ñāqes."

You do not understand, but you assume it means good morning, and so you say, "good morning."

Daemon sighs as he pushes himself up, removing his pants. You tense as he comes atop you and kisses your neck. He nudges your head to the side with his own and soon, he pushes your legs apart with his knees.

Your hands come to his hip bones, where you then dig your nails in, making him groan. You whimper when you feel him grind his groin into yours. He is half-hard.

"Sesīr isse ñuha ēdrugon, jaelan ao." Even in my sleep, I want you.

You whimper yet again when he begins to rock against you, digging your nails deeper into him.

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters as he fully parts your robe, repeating in common tongue, "calm down."

You are taken aback by how he pecks your lips once before kissing your neck again.

"Dreamt about fucking your pretty cunny," he mutters lowly between kisses, "wanna make it real."

His words make you ache and throb. In a way, you were comforted by the thought Daemon wanted you, even if it was just your body. You close your eyes and let yourself relax. You sigh against his ear, nuzzling into his shoulder, and brush your hand up his back. As your hands trail to his biceps, his skin breaks out with gooseflesh and a high pitched whimper leaves his lips.

"Fuuuuuuck," he whines out rather pathetically.

There is a languidness to his movements unlike you've ever experienced. His normally brash and pointed demeanor is soft and gentle, his kisses even more so. There is no sense of urgency whatsoever as he rolls his hips against you. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed that he wanted to savor the moment.

He did. He wanted to savor your body, as dreaming of it had him feeling some indistinguishable way. You would never know this though, for he would never tell you.

By the time you've become shaky and your cunt was absolutely sopping wet because of Daemon's now fully hard cock rubbing up against it, he finally pushes into you, drawing out a deep groan from your throat. You tighten your legs and arms around him and your teeth sink into his shoulder.

Daemon grips your thighs as he thrusts into you. He barely pulls out, seemingly determined to go deeper and deeper each time, wanting— needing to be pressed flush into you. His hands sneak beneath you, fingers raking up your shoulder blades to your nape before tangling into your brown hair. He breathes heavily against your ear as your bodies grow hotter and hotter.

You both remain in this snug position, doing this constricted dance until your bellies begin to burn. He doesn't speed up at all or pull out any more than he already has. You feel your body begin to tense and your climax begin to build, and then, just then, a spirit overcomes Daemon.

The next moment, he has his hand on your jaw, forcing your head back. Just as you reach your peak, he pulls out and thrusts his wet cock on your slick folds, once, twice, until his hard member is soft and twitching. His load shoots out up to your chest and sputters down on your belly, garnering a surprised gasp from you. It's hot and viscous against your skin and you wonder what it would have felt like had he released in you. There's so much of it too.

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Daemon repeats, thinking the exact same thing you were.

You expect him to roll over, because there is no way he wouldn't after soiling you, but you gasp yet again as he comes crashing down on you, skin sticking with a squelch.

He is arrested by your warmth and wants nothing but to plunge into you again. So, in his greed, he grabs his still twitching cock and pushes it into you, releasing a long and throaty groan as he does so. It makes you tremble and whimper his name. You were not expecting the intrusion, so you brush your cheek against his, hoping he understands to give you a moment of repose before going again.

After a while, though you still felt tender from your orgasm, you brush your cheek against him once more, signaling you were ready for him again.

He does the strangest thing however, and simply brushes his cheek back. He pulls his head back, looking down at you, "litse riña." Pretty girl.

You notice the softness of his violet eyes and knit your brows at it. He is so overwhelming you cannot help but kiss him. There was still remnants of morning breath in your mouths, but neither of you cared.

Daemon is loathe to have you pull away. He leans into your touch as you brush his unruly hair back. You slowly shake your head, "I do not understand, my prince."

"iksā sīr rāpa se bāne," you are so soft and warm. He brushes your noses together, "ñuha ābrazȳrys," my wife.

A line forms between your brows at the foreign tongue. You wait for him to translate as he brings his hand to your cheek. He stares at you for a long moment, thumb brushing your skin.

He makes no attempt to decode the High Valyrian for you, and soon, a knock comes upon your door.

Daemon is instantly irritated as he glares over his shoulder, muttering, "who the fuck is that?"

"My servants. I-"

Before you could even finish, your two servant girls are waking in, and Daemon watches them as they head for your bathroom, horribly and painfully unaware of him. He waits for them to reemerge, and the moment they do, he is instantly screaming, "FUCK OFF, CUNTS! THE DOOR'S CLOSED FOR A REASON."

You hear their gasps, squeals, and apologies before scurrying off, slamming the door behind them as they did.

Instantly, yet again, Daemon relaxes and nuzzles against your neck.

"D-Daemon," you whisper, sinking your fingers into his long hair, "they normally wake me up at-"

"I don't give a fuck," he quips, tightening his hold on you, "they'll know better now."

You clench your jaw and sigh, making mental note to apologize to your girls for the prince's actions.

You begin to doze off, as does Daemon in all his gluttonous glory. The two of you stay in bed until lunch time, which is far longer than you've ever personally stayed.

Arryk, who had been stationed outside your door for a while now, is concerned by this. He raps at the entrance to your room and calls your name. When he receives no response, he peaks inside and inspects the stillness of it all. Unnerved by the idea you were sleeping in, he thinks the worse and walks in, calling your name again. His breath is forced down his throat when he sees the flash of white hair on the bed. He sees a hand rub down a toned back and he immediately reels back, quiet and as quick as he possibly can.

You wake the second time because of the growling of your stomach. It is loud and painful, so much so, it wakes your husband.

He groans, brushing his nose against you, "hungry?"

You huff, craning your neck to look at him, finding his closed eyes, "clearly, I'm starving."

A rich chuckle rumbles from his chest. He opens his eyes and they twinkle with mischief, "I could feed you something meaty."

Your face contorts, "I do not think you'd want me to bite your cock, my prince."

Daemon laughs, hard enough to fully awaken him. He wheezes, and rolls of your chest, "I did-" sigh, "not say it was-" wheeze, "my cock."

You hum, "oh, of course not. Apologies."

Your sarcasm only maddens him further into amusement.

You take this as a chance to wriggle away from him, and so you do. The semen still on your skin is tepid and pasty as it smears against your chests. Your robe is completely lose as you come to a stand. You decide not to dirty your garment with Daemon's seed by covering yourself, so you head for the bathroom with your robe open.

You gasp at the swiftness of how your are grabbed and pulled back. Your body collides into Daemon's chest. Your care for your satin robe if for naught, because it sticks on his come anyway. Daemon's is hypnotized by your scent. He is quick to brush your hair over shoulder and mumble against your nape, "you wound me with your eagerness to flee me, wife."

His hands come to squeeze your breasts and you whimper as you turn to him. You knit your brows and pout, "that is not true."

"No?" he says a little louder than he ought as his emotions slightly get ahead of him, "are you not running from me this moment?"

You frown and fully face him, having to peel your robe off his chest as you do, "I'm simply going to bathe." You stare at his chest, "you've made a mess of me."

Daemon tilts his head, "not nearly enough, in my opinion."

You find the self-satisfied grin on his face, "you should too bathe with me."

"Mmm, well then," he takes your hand, "bathe we shall."

The water that your servants had brought was now cold, but you both made do with what you had. Daemon is simultaneously unsurprised and taken aback by how you tend to him first, he does not know why. You've bathed him once before, and yet it somehow feels different. You scrub his chest with cloth and inspire him to do the same for you. You lean into his touch as he washes you off, and it makes his stomach roll.

He takes a good look at you, your skin, the marks he left on it, your nose, your knees, your hair, everything, and he cannot believe something so... so immaculate, so resplendent could be borne from a man so detestable.

"You are not your father's daughter," he says so casually.

You look up at him, freezing because of his random sentiment.

"You are the gods promise to me. A woman made to sate my fire."

Your brows knit at his words. You tilt your head and it makes him nearly goes mad. How darling you ask, "I sate your fire?"

He hums and pulls you into him, kissing your arm as he did, "stoke, perhaps, is truer."

Your breath hitches when he brings you to his lap. He sighs as he feels your flesh against his, it wont be long until he's hard all over again. He licks a stripe up your left breast, "I am, in fact, insatiable."

Your heart races and he peppers kisses up your neck. You lean your forehead against his after kissing your lips. You whisper in earnest, "I will try."

Daemon pulls back, hands coming to your neck as he looks at you.

"I will try to sate you."

Fuck. The thought should have made him laugh, but it doesn't. It makes him burn. He cannot say anything, for his mouth seeks yours. He kisses your lips and you two sequentially spend another hour or so turning the water warm as it splashes all over the floor.

You're antsy and eager to feast by the end of it all.

You help each other get dressed, and Daemon finds the way you hastily button his doublet ever-so-endearing. When it's his turn to help, he shushes you and rubs your shoulders before securing your corset from behind, "your food will not fly off the window."

You rub your aching stomach, "I pray it flies into my mouth soon."

He snickers as he finishes tying your laces.

You quickly run towards the vanity and hastily begin to brush your still damp hair.

He watches you bounce your leg and the faintest of smiles graces his lips. He watches your chest begin to rise and fall rather quickly, and soon his brows furrow. He walks up behind you, "aeritta run." Restless thing.

He takes your hand and your jaw, but it is unlike most times he does so. His touch is gentle. He does not force you to hand your brush or look forward, but you do. You look at each other from the mirror; your chest continues to heave.

"Paez ilagon," Daemon enunciates, "say it for me, won't you?"

Your brows furrow in slight confusion. You release a breath, "pez ilegon."

"Paez," he corrects.

"Paez."

"Good," he nods, "ilagon."

"Il... Ilagon."

"Rōvēgrior," Daemon leans in and mumbles against your temple, "excellent. Now..." he kisses your temple, "once more: paez ilagon."

You take a breath, doing your best to mimic his accent, "pa...ez i- ... lagon."

"Arlī," again, he motions with his pointer, "speak confidently."

"Daemon."

"You can do it," he tilts his head at your reflection, "paez ilagon."

You sigh and nod your head, "paez ilagon."

His violet eyes twinkle, "rōvēgrior," excellent, he claps his hands, "spoken like a true Valyrian."

You turn to him, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, "wha-"

Daemon takes your face and makes you turn forward.

You look at his reflection and grip your skirt, fearing you'd upset him. But then he begins to style your hair and butterflies overcome your belly. You try to ignore the thump of your heart by clearing your throat, "what d-does it mean?"

"Paez ilagon is slow down."

"Ahhh," your jaw drops in slight embarrassment, "I see."

Daemon points, "hand me your pin."

You get the hair pin on the vanity and hand it over, "and the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"Ro... roz- rovevegregor."

Daemon tilts his head as he chuckles through his nostrils, a soft smile remaining on his face as he finishes securing your hair in a similar manner he does himself.

You witness all of this and your heart skips a beat.

"Rōvēgrior," he repeats, "try to roll your tongue."

"..."

"Go on."

"RRRRozeofoieve-"

He laughs and takes a hair tie from the table. He quickly does his own hair then takes you by the hand. He ushers you to the door as he continues to chuckle, "we should get you something to eat. You sound ill."

You are hypnotized by his melodic laugh. You don't dare interrupt it, so you whisper under your breath, mostly to yourself, "but what does it mean?"

"Excellent," he says, hearing your whisper. He opens the door for you, "it means excellent, gevie."

You do not notice Arryk as you exit your chambers, "but what about that?"

Daemon does not notice him either, "what?"

"Ge- gevie?"

"Gevie?" he repeats.

You nod.

Arryk bows and greets you, "princess."

You turn to him as he bows again, "my prince."

Daemon does not spare him a glance. Beautiful, it meant, but he instead tells you, "it is a secret."

You do not respond to Daemon, but he does not mind. He is fully content to stare at you. You smile at your ward, taking a second to guess who it is, "good morn, ser. Are you... Erryk?"

Arryk examines you, finally breathing a sigh of relief to know you are unharmed. He is also glad to see you are not dressed in attire that... exposes the good works of your husband. In the same second, he notices your said husband, and how keenly is gaze is set upon your beaming form. He clenches his jaw, "nay, your grace. Neither am I my brother, nor is it morning."

"Oh," you purse your lips, "my apologies, dear Arryk."

Daemon quickly pulled out of his haze, raising a brow at dear Arryk, "you may go."

Arryk turns to him.

"I will keep my wife company today," he says, wasting no more time in idle chatter, taking you by the hand.

You both walk off and you offer Arryk a smile and nod in regard.

Arryk clenches his jaw but forces himself to smile back at you. He is uneasy by the prospect, knowing how fickle and volatile Daemon can become regarding you. He stares at your joined hands as you walk away, deciding to trust the prince for your sake.

[callsign-rogueone]

an unexpected visitor

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader words: 1.6k 🏷: sfw (taking a break from the overdue kinktober stuff!), canon-typical injury, why do rider cadets always try to kill each other at 3am, you get stabbed, sorry, but Bren mends you up, no pronouns used for reader but you wear feminine pj's and smell like flowers <3, bren just met you but he's already down bad, naolin cameo, marbh is sassy, i just love writing lil cadet bren.

“Find Brennan Sorrengail.”

It takes you a second to place the name -- the boy in your year with the mending signet. The general’s son. He’s not in your squad, or even in your wing, so he has every right to put you out of your misery — but something is screaming at you that you can trust him, that he’ll help you. He wouldn’t have become a mender if he didn’t have a good heart, right? Surely he wouldn’t leave you to die, or finish you off himself to thin the herd.

You’ll die without his help anyway, so it’s worth a shot.

“You are not dying today. I will not allow it.”

“How exactly are you going to—”

The door swings open, and you thank the gods that you remembered which room was his. 

He’s visibly confused, probably because he doesn’t even know your name, and you’re knocking on his door at three in the morning in negligeé. He blinks at you once, twice, about to ask why you’re here — and then he spots the knife currently sticking out of your ribcage.

“Please,” you rasp, clinging to the doorway with a bloodied hand. “Wasn’t gonna make it to the healers…” 

He doesn’t hesitate, tossing his own blade aside, yanking a towel down from the hook by the door and throwing it over the bedspread, guiding you to lay down with a gentle hand on your elbow. 

You cry softly as the movement shifts the knife, and he murmurs an apology as you lay back, helping lower you down. Your eyes lock with his, and for a moment you’re entranced by the flickers of emotion in them, the minute movements of his pupils as he takes you in… you've never seen anyone with irises that color, such a warm, rich amber.

He pulls away first, focusing back on the issue at hand. “Can I tear this? I’ll fix it later.”

It takes a second for you to realize that he’s talking about your shirt. “Sure,” you wheeze. 

He hooks his fingers into the split from the knife and pulls, the fabric ripping easily. He’s quick to drape another towel over your chest, letting you keep some decency. 

You really should have chosen better clothing — you’re a little embarrassed to be laying on his bed in a now-shredded pink satin teddy and a tiny pair of shorts, but in your defense, when you got out of bed to relieve yourself, you didn’t think you’d be getting into a knife fight, and then knocking on a near-stranger’s door to ask him to save your life. 

He doesn’t seem to care at all, more worried about the wound than anything else. He’s not telling you anything, but the crease between his eyebrows and the tone of his voice as he mutters a few colorful words gives it all away. 

“Is it bad?” you rasp.

“The blood is bubbling. That means the knife went through your lung.”

“Oh,” you say hollowly. Talking is agonizing, but you feel the need to fill the silence, to make this interaction any less awkward. “This is my first time being stabbed, so…”

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re doing great. It’s serrated, so it’s going to do more damage coming out than it did going in, but I should be able to fix it. It might scar, though. I’m not that good yet.”

“I’ll take those odds.”

“I need two hands for this, so I can’t block the pain.”

“Just do it,” you beg, tears already flowing down your cheeks. “Please.”

He settles a warm hand on your side, wrapping the other around the hilt. “Ready?” 

“Yes, please just get it over with—” you try to muffle your scream with your hand, but it still slips out into the air as he starts to ease the knife back out, the jagged edges ripping your skin further.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he soothes, his thumb stroking over your rib as he continues to pull slowly, slowly… then there’s a clatter of metal hitting the floor. “It’s out.”

You almost regret asking him to remove it. The cold air of the room hitting the inside of the wound feels like your skin has been lit on fire, and somehow breathing is even more difficult than it was before; the blade was plugging the hole in your lung, and now it feels like you’d just accidentally inhaled half a glass of water. You bring an elbow up to cough into, your eyes widening as you realize that the metallic taste in your mouth is blood — and the warmth pouring down your side, too.

“Fuck, okay… I’m gonna try to fix it now. Just hold on for me. Try to relax.”

You sob in relief as the pain dulls, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on anything other than the burning feeling in your lungs, and not being able to breathe. 

Layer by layer, the wound joins itself back together, leaving only a pink scar behind. Your breaths even out, your eyes fluttering shut and your posture relaxing.  “That’s it,” he soothes. “I’m almost done.”

You don’t respond, and he realizes you’re unconscious. Not an abnormal reaction to having such a serious wound, but a slightly inconvenient one: he can’t ask you what happened, or if you have any other serious injuries. 

The fabric slowly stitches itself back together, the bloodied patches disappearing along with the dried blood coating your skin. The stained towel and the red under his fingernails are the only evidence that anything had happened. That, and the bruise on your arm — though that looks to be a few days old. 

Whoever attacked you must have snuck up on you, thinking one quick stab would finish the job. If they were coward enough to take such a cheap shot at someone in the middle of the night, they’re probably dumb enough to think that would kill you. He wonders if they met their demise, and they’re currently laying dead in the hallway, or if they made an escape. You probably didn’t let them get away with this. You don’t seem like the type to run away from a fight, especially when the other person struck first, and when you’d shown up at his door it didn’t look like you were being chased, either. 

He fades away the bruise and a papercut on your finger, admiring the softness of your skin against his. You’re warm, which is a good sign that you didn't lose too much blood. 

You look quite comfortable laid out on the side of his bed, your head resting on your arm and your legs tucked up toward your chest. You probably aren’t going to wake up any time soon. It’s nearly four in the morning, anyway, and you need as much sleep as you can get after tonight’s events. 

He carefully climbs in on the other side, giving you plenty of room, and pulls the blankets over the pair of you. You stir, burrowing down into the warmth with a soft, content sound. 

He watches you for a moment, comforted by the steadiness of your breathing. Might as well get some sleep, he decides — formation is in less than three hours.

———————————————————-

Thankfully you’re an early riser. The only thing that could make this any more awkward would be if he had to wake you up. 

You yawn and stretch, cracking an eye open to see that his face is only a foot away from yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, a light blush covering his cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, I don’t have a knife sticking out of me anymore, so pretty good.”

He exhales in relief. “I was worried that you wouldn’t remember, and then this would be super awkward.”

You laugh, sitting up. “Thank you for saving my life and letting me crash — and I’m sorry. It was pretty dumb of me to walk down the hall without a knife or anything. I thought we were safe now that we’re bonded, but I guess not.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, it’s theirs.” He pauses. “Did you…”

“No,” you answer. “I didn’t kill him. Just knocked him out.”

Him? Brennan’s jaw clenches. “Was it that prick from third wing?”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. He seems like the type to go after someone unarmed and unaware. Especially someone half his size.”

You snort. “Seeing the look on his face at formation is going to be so fun.”

He blinks at you, questioning how calm you’re being about this. You take advantage of his stunned silence, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. I owe you one. Two, really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he manages. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, making a graceful drop to the floor and bending down to pick up your slippers -- he’d straightened them up for you. How sweet. You spot the knife on his desk, nodding toward it. “Do you want this, or can I keep it as a souvenir?”

“You can keep it. You earned it, after all.”

“Good point. Thanks.”

He keeps his eyes on the wall as you slip out the door, trying to look at anything except the amount of skin that shows in that little pajama set you’re wearing.

As the door closes behind you, he can hear you greeting someone -- not embarrassed at all to be walking down the hall in your pajamas, your slippers in one hand and the dagger in the other.

He flops back down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the interaction in his head, analyzing every word for any hint of deeper meaning. 

“Good morning.”

He jolts upright, snapped out of his thoughts. “Gods above, Marbh,” he pants, recovering from the shock. 

“You’re going to be late.”

Is it possible for a dragon to sound smug?

There’s a knock at the door before it opens -- Naolin. “Why aren’t you dressed?” He sniffs once, twice, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “And why does it smell like rose petals in here?”

[theseinfernalangels]

Fragile — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Mender!Reader comes back from RSC worse off than the rest of your squad. Sawyer is heartbroken and takes care of you.

A/N: I pumped this one out surprisingly fast! I may post my OC reference sheet after this for more context, since there are references to characters you haven’t met yet, such as Reader’s dragon, Cridhe, and Eden (Liam’s girl!). We’ll see how it turns out! I might even do a part two for this hehe.

Includes: blood, injuries, insecurities, and anxiety. Oh, yeah; don’t forget the dragon telepathy, fluff, hurt-comfort, slight angst. Takes place during Iron Flame.

Sawyer knew something was up when you didn’t meet him outside the Gathering Hall. 

It wasn’t like you to be late for…Well, anything, much less seeing him. He certainly wasn’t an anxious person, but it made his fingers twitch with nervousness when he didn’t spot your cautious frame lingering close to the sides of the hall. He waited anyway. He’d always wait for you.

At the ten-minute mark, his thoughts began to race. He could understand if you stayed behind for a word with one of your professors – you were a genius, anyway. Perhaps you could have gone off-track to help another cadet in need of extra notes. That was just in your nature (even though Sawyer and Ridoc had tried to convince you to charge a couple coins for it – you’d be swimming in gold by now). Maybe you were in the infirmary with your friend…Eden, was it? Emily? He could barely remember.

But no. Another fifteen minutes slowly ticked by, and his reasonable side began to veer off a little. Maybe you’d been injured somehow. Maybe the other cadets had finally taken advantage of your anxious, gentle nature and were in the middle of ganging up on you. Maybe they’d finally gotten you – the Marked cadets who weren’t too fond of you for what your parents, Navarrian military legends, had done to them.

He heard Sliseag’s chiding voice resound in the back of his mind. Easy there, Ashling, he soothed. Do not worry too much. She is exactly where she is meant to be.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I would beg to differ, he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. If she was in the right place, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

The dragon snorted. Really, now? he mused. Look up.

Sawyer had just turned, his palms sweaty, when he saw a figure moving sluggishly in his peripherals. He squinted, then froze, the sight making his blood run cold.

You finally showed up…But you looked awful.

Damaged was the best word to describe it. Your hair was messy, your bangs falling in your face in a way it only looked after an intense flight. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the rest of your face was battered. Your bottom lip was split and bleeding, the blood oozing out sluggishly and staining your chin crimson. That was only your face; the rest of your body was probably just as bruised and injured.

Go, he heard Sliseag urge. Go to her now. She needs you, Ashling.

He broke out of his trance; he couldn’t run fast enough to get to you, his legs moving on what felt like autopilot. Gods. What did they do to you?

You held up a hand when he neared you. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. “I…It looks worse than it feels.”

Sliseag made a noise of disapproval in his mind. I doubt that.

Sawyer, in that moment, felt almost scared to touch you, as if putting his fingers anywhere would shatter you like glass.

Finally, he found his voice. “What the hell happened to you?” he murmured, wincing at how sick he sounded. His eyes traced your face; you still looked gorgeous as ever, but just looking at your good eye made his heart wrench.

“We,” you began, faltering as you fell forward a bit. Sawyer caught you with ease, splaying a hand on your back as you leaned into him. “We had RSC. I…I didn’t expect for it to be so…awful.”

You looked down, and Sawyer made a soft sound of protest as he lifted your chin back up to face his. Skies above, he thought. He’d seen you injured before, obviously – there was no avoiding that at Basgiath. But this…

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, ghosting a kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry. You…You haven’t been to the infirmary yet?”

You shook your head. “No. I saw a clock and remembered we agreed to meet up. Wanted to see you first.”

Oh, he thought. Damn you, you sweet, sweet girl. Damn you and your loveliness. 

He sighed quietly, glancing at the sky. It was getting close to dusk, which meant that the infirmary was probably winding down for the day. His gaze flitted back down to your trembling form, his heart aching.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound pushy. “I’m sure your friend is still there; she’d be willing–”

His voice trailed off when you vehemently shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “Not now. Can we…Can we just go to yours?”

At that moment, with you looking up at him hopefully, your good eye wide but exhausted, Sawyer would have given you just about anything. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too hard. “Of course, darling. Just hold on to me. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

The pained smile you gave him twists his heart. “I don’t, either.”

It took a little while, but the two of you finally made it to his dorm in relative silence, save for the pained gasps and whimpers that occasionally fell from your swollen lips. The whole time, Sawyer was clenching his teeth. It didn’t matter that RSC was something that happened to everyone – not even his injuries hadn’t looked this rough.

He sat you down gently on his bed. He didn’t want to leave you, not when you looked that beat up, but he pushed that aside to grab the little box of medical supplies you kept in his room for when he was beat up after sparring. If you weren’t huddled beside him looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you, he would have made a joke about it.

You’d already removed your jacket and shirt, leaving your torso bare save for the bindings you always wore. Sawyer relaxed for a moment before he took note of your ribs, black and blue bruising rippling up both sides. Save for that, though, and other bruising and – Gods forbid, handprints – you honestly didn’t look too terrible.

He brushed your bangs away from your face, tilting your chin up so he could assess the damage. “Have you tried mending yourself?”

You sighed, sounding almost disappointed in yourself. “No. I’ve never tried that, but it won’t work, anyway. I tried to mend Anya’s arm after it got dislocated, but it didn’t work. I’m either terrible with my signet, or the injury was too bad, or–”

He cut you off before you could delve deeper into self-doubt. “No,” he assured you, taking a wet rag and wiping the blood on your chin. “They tampered with your water. It’s supposed to dull your signet and cut you off from your dragon to feel more realistic.”

Your lips formed an O in realization. “So that’s why I couldn’t feel Cridhe,” you mumbled, hissing in pain once he actually touched your lip. “I got worried there for a while.”

He nodded, ducking his head lower to check the area around your neck. There was an angry red line around your throat; someone had tried to choke you, he assumed. Bastard.

“I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “When they took me, the serum didn’t wear off for about a day. I thought Sliseag randomly chose to hate me or something.”

The aforementioned scoffed softly. As if, Ashling, he muttered. I didn’t choose you just to leave you behind.

The words warmed Sawyer’s heart long enough that your silence didn’t bother him for the next few minutes while he looked you over.

He only paused when you spoke softly, your voice faint. “I…think I have a concussion,” you mumble. “The light hurts, and I’m dizzy.”

A tight-lipped smile fought its way onto Sawyer’s face. “Trust you to diagnose yourself barely an hour after it happens.”

You don’t respond, prompting Sawyer to lean back up and look into your eyes. Sure enough, your pupils were unfocused and exhausted. Smart girl.

He opened his mouth to make another little quip, only for it to die on his tongue once you leaned into his side.

“Tired?” he prompted you gently. A soft hum from you confirmed his suspicions, and he hesitated for a moment before relenting. He could carry you to Nolan or a healer in the morning, after you slept the night away.

He looked away for a moment, and you had somehow managed to snag a random shirt off his floor and slip it on. His eyes softened, and he reached over to help you out of your pants and under his covers. You looked so…unusually small in his bed, curled in on yourself like a flower without the sun to warm it. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to kick off his boots and leave himself in his undershirt as he settled next to you. You slowly unfurled from your tense position and rested your head on his chest. Pure bliss.

You both lay there in silence for what seemed like hours before Sawyer found his voice again, feeling weirdly sentimental. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Your silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “That’s okay. We don’t have to. Just…I hope you know that I’ll never let that happen to you when the time comes. Whoever it was, they’d have to kill me first to get to you.”

More silence from you. Sawyer thought for a moment that you fell asleep, but his eyes popped back open once he heard your weary voice.

“Sawyer?”

“Yes, darling?”

A beat. Two beats.

“Thank you for this. I didn’t want to be anywhere besides here.”

…You don’t have to thank me, he thinks, a pained smile tugging at his mouth. I’d do anything and more for you, anyway.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi I hope it’s ok if i request this you really don’t have to do it. But a Xaden riorson fluff and angst where the reader gets really hurt but they are trying to help people so she hides it from Xaden and when he finds out he’s really mad at her but he’s really just scared of losing her and hates seeing her hurt with a happy ending. I hope this is ok and there is no pressure to do this I completely understand if you don’t want to.

warning: blood, injuries, death

Dangerous

Falling in love had been off the table for Xaden. Falling in love with a rebel witch, a coven leader hadn’t been on his bingo cards either . But there was something that had pulled him towards you. For months he pined over you, not letting his feelings take the best of him. Until he cracked and that one careless night after a stressful raid had changed his life forever.

“Your heart is beating fast”, you had muttered, kissing his shoulder as you laid wrapped around him still, only Xaden’s leather jacket he had pulled over you both keeping the chilly night away. He sighed deeply, “I’m tariffed”, he admitted, eyes falling onto you. “Of me or this?”, you gestured between you both. “Of losing you now that I found you”, he muttered into the night. You had leaned in kissing all of his thoughts away. But Xaden knew that his fears matched yours too.

Now he felt like he lived two lives. The most important one was left in his old family home. It was tough being so far away but he constantly reassured himself that you were in good hands out there. But his arms grew lonely at night, thoughts swirling like shadows all around him. So he craved the nights he got to fly out to you. It was feeling like no other. Just like tonight as he quickly jumped off Sgaeyl. Just something felt different tonight.

“What is it?”, Garrick asked from behind him. Xaden simply lifted his hand, “Don’t you feel…”, but he didn’t get to finish his sentence as cries echoed from the main hall. The two males shared a quick look before rushing towards the sound. Just the view when they pushed through the door had made them both halt. There were bodies everywhere, littering the mats as healers rushed all around them.

Xaden’s stomach turned as he looked each of the bodies over, praying to not see your face among them. “Brennan”, he sighed as the male with a huge gash on his forehead came into view. “Xaden”, the male acknowledged him with a tight nod. “What happened?”, Xaden grunted, eyes still scanning the room. “She’s not here”, Brennan's voice washed over the storm within him. “she hasn’t…”, the mender coughed into his palm, “She hasn’t returned”. And here it was that deathly ringing in his head. “Was this an attack?”, Garrick asked, clasping a hand onto Xaden’s shoulder. “They came for witches. Killed half of the…”, but Xaden had turned, marching out of the hall. The iron stench in the air made him nauseous.

Stumbling into the courtyard Xaden was heartbeats away from mounting Sgaeyl when his eyes caught a glimpse of the wyvern not far away from the field that stretched across. His legs moved before he could think it all through. That didn’t have to be you but his rational mind was long gone. Stumbling through the long grass he was finally met with the oily black scales. And those familiar black eyes of your wyvern. “Hey, girl”, Xaden breathed, touching her neck before rounding the side of her. “Y/n”, he called out, heart hammering against his chest. He had lost too many of his friends like this. In fields. Right by their dragons. “Y/n”, he called out again. And then Azure turned her wing up, and there you stood. Hand braced against your wyvern. Dead eyes looking up at Xaden. “Love”, he stepped forward, hands reaching out to clasp your upper arm so he could steady you.

“I’m fine”, you grunted through gritted teeth, shaking his hand off. “You’re not and we both know that”, Xaden argued back. You took a shaky step forward before your legs bucked, hissing when Xaden wrapped his arms around your middle to steady you. His skin grew even more ashy when his fingers met the pudgy, warm material on your side. “Let me…”, he started, fear clouding his senses once more. “No”, you pushed against him.

“Yn”, Xaden said in warning, if he had to carry you out of this field he would. “Eight. Eight girls they murdered, Xaden”, you crocked out, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. “Bled into buckets for…”, a choked sob escaped you as you hit his chest. Over and over. But he stood there like a wall. Meeting punch after punch. Because he’s been there too. “I couldn’t save them”, you howled, head pressed into your lover’s chest as you pulled at his leathers.

“You did what you could. Your people need you now”, Xaden said, letting his fingers brush through your hair. “I should have died not them”, you shook your head but Xaden gripped your chin then, “Don’t you speak like that”, he grunted, “Don’t you ever say anything like that”. Your puffy eyes finally looked up at him. “I had been so close to setting that whole place on fire when I couldn’t find you”, Xaden admitted, “so don’t say shit like that because I might just”. You sank against him, finally letting your body sag, knowing that he was here. “I got you”, muttered against your ear, “Let me take care of you now, and then we will find the ones responsible”, he promised.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Rookie (ABC Series) - pg. 1

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

This list contains all fics and sequels posted before 12/25/2024

Page 2 (fics and sequels posted after 12/25/2024)

Page 3 (series and blurbs)

Poisonously Bad Day

4.1k+ words | angst to fluff | Just before your anniversary with Tim, you receive threatening messages. When someone tries to take your life, you and Tim learn the importance of talking to one another. (Or, Tim's crazy ex stalks you and Tim gets really worried about you.)

A Room Away

4.2k+ words | angst/fluff & hurt/comfort | Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

A Room Away (No More) 3.7k+ words | angst/fluff & hurt/comfort | Your abusive ex reaches out, and you hide it from Tim until it's almost too late.

Secret Admirers

1.9k+ words | fluff | You become Tim's secret admirer, and when you get your own in return, you struggle to accept what your feelings toward Tim mean.

Broken Heart Mender

2.4k+ words | angst to fluff | After hearing Tim tell Angela why he's not in a relationship with you, you pull away and make yourself sick with a broken heart. After too long without hearing from you, Tim finds you and promises to make everything better.

Falling Slowly

4.0k+ words | fluff | You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.

Tim Testing

2.5k+ words | angst to fluff | After transferring to the Mid-Wilshire division because of toxic male officers harassing you, you find yourself partnered with Tim Bradford. When you are injured during a Tim Test, you hide the injury so he doesn't think less of you.

The Better, Hidden Half

3.9k+ words | angst to fluff | wife!reader | Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

The Better, Not So Hidden Half 1.9k+ words | fluff | After Tim decided he didn't want to keep you hidden any longer, you meet the rest of his friends (colleagues, as he prefers), but not the way he planned.

Not So Grumpy

1.8k+ words | fluff | pregnant!wife!reader | Tim is grumpier than usual, and when you decide to visit him at the station, the rookies get an idea of why.

Not So Grumpy (Part 2) 1.3k+ words | fluff | Months after being introduced to the rookies, you get a chance to see them again. After your baby is born and Tim's grumpiness continues, you finally have a chance to properly meet them.

Firefighters: Friend or Foe

1.8k+ words | fluff | shy!pregnant!wife!reader | You spend the night at the fire station with your best friend, not realizing how jealous your husband Tim is.

Firefighter Friends (prequel to Friend or Foe) 1.9k+ words | fluff | shy!wife!firefighter!reader | After you become a firefighter, your friends convince you to make a funny video. Tim walks in while you're filming and finds a new reason to tease you.

The First of Many

1.4k+ words | fluff | Tim has to work late on your first Valentine's Day together, and apologizes with a huge teddy bear, takeout, and both kinds of wine.

Don't Leave Me for Her

2.0k+ words | angst to fluff | pregnant!wife!reader | You see Tim laughing with Isabel and begin worrying that he will leave you and your unborn child for her.

Is It My Turn to Panic?

2.0k+ words | fluff | shy!pregnant!wife!reader | You go into labor while visiting Tim at the station, and you both panic before getting to the hospital.

A Family at Your Side

2.6k+ words | angst to fluff | shy!paramedic!fem!Buckley!reader | You, Evan Buckley's sister, are a paramedic with the 118. When you're called to a fire, it quickly becomes a crime scene when someone opens fire on you. Your boyfriend Tim Bradford and your fire station family have to work together to save you.

Anything Can (And Will) Happen

2.1k+ words | fluff | Chen!reader (Lucy's sister) | When Lucy tells you about Tim's eventful Halloween a few years ago, you use it to tease him. When he gets annoyed, the truth comes out.

Kojo Bradford, Wingman

1.4k+ words | fluff | Tim is (still) a bachelor, until Kojo decides to change that.

Mini Me

1.3k+ words | shy!mom!reader | fluff | After giving birth to your twin boys, Tim is upset that they look just like you. He's momentarily distracted by a visit from the godparents, Angela Lopez and one of your best friends, who Tim only refers to as soldier.

Mini Me and Dogs 1.3k+ words | fluff | The godfather of your twins (soldier) brings his friends and some dogs to visit you in the hospital. While everyone tries to make you shy, the dogs and your new friend help you out.

Mini Me and Battlefields 1.8k+ words | fluff | When you drop by the station to surprise Tim, you accidentally start a battle for who gets to hold your twins next.

Flirting with Cops

1.8k+ words | fiancée!rookie!reader | fluff | On plain clothes day, you pull over your fiancé, Tim Bradford. Your TO, Nyla Harper, grows very interested in your personal life.

Yelling at Cops 1.7k+ words | angst/fluff | After you are injured, your fiancé Tim yells at you and treats you like a boot. When Wade and Nyla find out, they tell him what really happened.

Popstar Protection Program

2.8k+ words | singer!reader | angst to fluff | As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Just a Dog Walker

3.5k+ words | grad student!dog walker!reader | angst to fluff | As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Hold My Hand

1.4k+ words | angst to fluff | When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Doggitude

2.8k+ words | angst to fluff | After Tim takes his bad day out on you, you leave. Kojo misses you and does everything he can to see you again.

Chase You Down

2.5k+ words | angst to fluff | Hiding after being robbed, you find comfort in a dog and his handsome owner. In the days following the crime, they protect you and care for you.

It's Commander, Sergeant

2.7k+ words | Army-FBI!reader | fluff | After years of thinking about Tim Bradford, you meet him again during a riot in Los Angeles. When he learns you outrank him, he falls... hard.

Keep Living with Me

4.6k+ words | angst | You fell in love with Tim Bradford quickly, and he receives your mother's blessing to propose. After you watch your mother's murder, his plans are thrown off and he gives you a place to heal.

Keep Living with Us 1.8k+ words | fluff | After the death of your mother and getting engaged to Tim Bradford, you take another step in life.

We're Getting Married Now?

4.3k+ words | fluff | When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.

Quit for a Reason

2.1k+ words | wife!reader | angst to fluff | When a suspect begins looking for you while you perform a surgery, Tim finds out why you quit your job in law enforcement.

We've Got a Problem

1.1k+ words | fluff | When you get arrested on Tim's day off, you have to call someone to get you out of jail. Tim doesn't answer when you call, but when he finds out what happened, he makes it a bigger problem.

It's Not About You

2.1k+ words | fluff | When Tim overhears his fellow police officers and your other neighbors flirting with you, he gets jealous, and takes it out on you.

Finally Home

1.6k+ words | shy!military doctor! reader | fluff | You enlist your boyfriend Tim to help you surprise your (adoptive) sister Lucy after being deployed for several months.

Pictures of You

1.3k+ words | wife!artist!reader | fluff | While patrolling the fairgrounds, Lucy convinces Tim to have their picture drawn. She doesn't expect you, Tim's wife, to be the artist.

Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

3.0k+ words | angst to fluff | You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Rook Book

2.4k+ words | fluff | When you return to the Mid-Wilshire station for a Metro inspection, you don't expect to run into your former TO, Tim Bradford.

Rook Book to Remember Me By 3.6k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim's delay in transferring to Metro may have cost him everything, and as he and Lucy search Los Angeles for a killer, he only has his memories and a fake rook book to remember you by.

Carry Us

1.2k+ words | fluff | Tim carrying your son out of the hospital is the cutest thing you've ever seen, and you make sure you'll never forget it.

My Wife

2.2k+ words | angst to fluff | While you're out running errands, a man takes a special interest in you. When he grabs you and thanks a police officer for finding you, his wife, he doesn't expect it to be your husband.

Constant Faith

1.4k+ words | worship pastor!reader | angst to fluff | When your church is robbed during worship practice, you try to remember as many details as you can to tell the police. Tim is the responding officer, and despite his worry about you, he's impressed by what you remember.

Constant Faith and the Life it Brings 1.8k+ words | fluff/comfort | After your church is robbed, Tim learns how you got into faith and helps you learn to share your story.

Why Don't You Flirt with Me?

3.7k+ words | angst to fluff | 5 times you're jealous of someone flirting with Tim Bradford, and the 1 time you tell him why.

I Don't Want Easy

2.0k+ words | angst to fluff | wife!r | When Tim leaves in the middle of the night, you don't know what happened. After you find out you're pregnant a few weeks later, you must decide whether you want to wait for the man who abandoned you or move on.

Cop Meet Cop

2.6k+ words | fluff | + platonic Deacon Kay x r | When your best friend, Deacon Kay, finds out that you're dating a cop, he wants to know everything. Introducing him to Tim Bradford is easier said than done.

Speed Limit 2525

11.7k+ words | angst to fluff | Speed (1994) AU | When Tim Bradford goes head-to-head with a bomber, he finds himself on a bus carrying a bomb and you.

With You, Even When I'm Not

5.5k+ words | angst to fluff ; hurt/comfort | When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.

Devastation

3.4k+ words | angst (w/ brief fluff) | cop!reader | You leave Tim because he takes out his frustration about a long day on you. The next day, everyone in the station can tell you're both miserable. A surprise calls sends Tim into a devastated spiral as he wonders if what he said was worth it.

Walk Dates

2.8k+ words | fluff | You and your service dog meet Tim and Kojo during a walk. The dogs force you and Tim to keep meeting, but neither of you mind. When you're late for a walk because of an emergency, Tim decides he would like to be more than walk-buddies.

California Dreams

2.8k+ words | fluff | You move to California to be closer to your brother John after your mom dies. There, you meet Tim Bradford and begin dating. When your boyfriend and brother meet each other, you're surprised to learn it isn't their first interaction.

Confident in Us

2.8k+ words | fluff | confident!reader | You're confident, you keep Tim on his toes, but he realizes that it's not enough. He learns that you have a son from a previous relationship while Angela is pressuring him to ask you out, but you beat him to it.

Call a Truce

3.6k+ words | angst to fluff | You and Tim have a rivalry that began when you were rookies. Years later, you continue competing in everything you do, even when you're helping Tim get out of a dangerous situation.

Better Care

3.1k+ words | angst to fluff | teacher!reader | One of your students is absent, and you worry about her until you return home and see her with your husband, Tim Bradford. He's taking care of her following the death of her parents, but neither of you want it to be a temporary arrangement.

Talk To Me, Baby

1.0k+ words | fluff | shy!wife!reader | Your son loves to talk to you. Unlike his dad, Tim, he doesn't try to make you shy.

No Party Like a Costco Party

1.9k+ words | fluff | shy!reader | You enjoy going to Costco, so Tim decides to take you shopping on your birthday. With a little help from your best friend, it turns into a party.

What I Didn't Know I Had

1.7k+ words | angst to fluff | pregnant!wife!reader | You get shot, and Tim nearly loses something he didn't know he had.

Skepticism

2.1k+ words | fluff | fem!NFL!reader | Tim is skeptical about the first female NFL player. When he shares his opinion with you, he doesn't realize that you are the woman he's talking about.

Lonely in Misery

2.0k+ words | fluff | paramedic!reader | Bailey notices that you're lonely and miserable while Nolan notices the same about Tim. They decide to set you up on a blind date, but it only ends with more sadness.

Lonelier in Misery 1.7k+ words | fluff | After you first date with Tim, you decide to keep your relationship from Nolan and Bailey for as long as possible.

Truth Serum

2.6k+ words | fluff | cop!reader | While searching for an abducted child, you and Tim are abducted and injected with truth serum.

Defend Myself

1.9k+ words | fluff | During a hockey game, you get into a fight with the drunk man sitting beside you. When Tim Bradford arrives to break up the fight, he decides he'd like to see you again.

Stay in the Car

2.3k+ words | fluff/comfort | cop!wife!reader | Tim disappears from the station, and you and Aaron have to find him. After a heroic leap of faith, you save him in more ways than one.

No Bad Days When You're in Them

2.3k+ words | angst to fluff/comfort | Tim has a bad day, but he forgets about it when he sees you get hurt.

All The Reasons We Can't

2.6k+ words | fluff/comfort | When you move in with Lucy Chen, you don't expect to fall for her ex-boyfriend.

Dodgers Date

1.5k+ words | fluff | shy!wife!reader | For your weekly date night, Tim takes you to a Dodgers game.

Celebrity Crush

1.1k+ words | fluff | You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is.

Celebrity Crush, Table for Two 1.2k+ words | fluff | You go on a date with your celebrity crush after meeting him in uniform.

More Than Meets the Eye

3.4k+ words | documentary-style | You and Tim go undercover as your criminal doppelgängers. When the case is turned into a documentary, the interviewer and viewers learn that there's often more than meets the eye.

With You and For You

2.2k+ words | angst to fluff | When you're involved in your first shooting, Tim tries to give you the comfort you need. You push him away until you realize why he's there.

Girls' Trip (Plus Tim)

1.3k+ words | fluff | You and Lucy go on a road trip together, but Tim crashes your girls' weekend when the car breaks down.

Creepy, But Special

2.5k+ words | fluff | goth!ME!reader | Tim sees a woman in a cemetery after dark and can't stop thinking about you. When he calls for the M.E. and you arrive, he gets a chance to find out more about you.

Friends from Here

1.7k+ words | fluff | Chen!MP!reader | When you return to the States, Tim Bradford confuses you for your sister Lucy. That night, you realize why he seemed so familiar and gain a new friend.

A Manly Guard Dog

1.2k+ words | fluff | You've been asking your husband for a dachshund, but he tells you that you need a manly dog. When the K9 unit gets a new recruit, Tim reevaluates his view of dachshunds.

A Very Handsome Boy

1.6k+ words | fluff | While you're at a party, your friends mistake a cop for a stripper. He has a way you can make it up to him.

Divorcing Dad

1.5k+ words | fluff/comfort | When your daughter asks Tim if he's getting a divorce, he doesn't know what to say. In the aftermath of the question, you have to comfort both Bradfords.

The Slayers

2.5k+ words | angst to fluff? | Vampires begin attacking people in Los Angeles, and as the chosen one, it's up to you and your partner to stop them.

Home to My Family

1.7k+ words | angst to fluff | After you give birth to twins, they're taken by a nurse for checkups. You soon realize that she's not a nurse, so Tim calls in reinforcements to save your children and catch their abductor.

Party Favors, Bribes, and Sharks

2.0k+ words | fluff | When Tim finally invites you to meet his friends, it takes more than party favors and promises to convince you to go.

Good Luck Charm

1.4k+ words | fluff | At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Only Choice

2.4k+ words | fluff | You and Tim go undercover to catch a serial killer because you're the only choice.

We've Got Time

1.6k+ words | fluff | French/American!reader | You return to Los Angeles from France to visit your childhood friend Lucy Chen and find everything your heart has needed.

A Home to Thrive In

3.5k+ words | angst to fluff/comfort | You still live next door to Tim Bradford's mother, and when he visits for the first time in years, you have to decide if you're willing to let go of the idea of him you fell in love with.

Who Trained Who?

1.4k+ words | fluff | shy!reader | You take Kojo to visit your boyfriend Tim at the station and learn that Tim doesn't like how much time you spend with Kojo.

Next Year

2.0k+ words | fluff | r with retinoblastoma | Tim accompanies you to your yearly ophthalmologist appointment for the first time.

Tastes of Home and Cake

2.0k+ words | fluff | baker!reader | You own a popular bakery frequented by celebrities, but when the Mid-Wilshire police station hires you for a luncheon, you go out of your way to make cakes, cupcakes, and favourites to make the day special.

Brighter, Sweeter Days

2.4k+ words | fluff | shy!baker!reader | Tim comes to your bakery daily, and you try to brighten his day to get him to notice you. When he finally shows you he has noticed you, there's a lot you have to tell him.

I'm Closer

1.8k+ words | comfort | wife!reader | During a string of break-ins in your neighborhood, you have to stay home alone while Tim works a night shift. When the intruder gets close to you, you remember Tim is always closer.

The Cat Gets It

1.2k+ words | fluff | Tim finally meets your cat, Maverick, and it does not go as planned. Maverick hates Tim until he sees something special.

Bradford Has a Princess ( + Bradford Has a Valentine's Day Princess)

1.6k+ words | fluff | younger!reader | Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

All By Myself, Drowning in My Fears

2.4k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim hides his nightmares from everyone, even you, until he realizes that holding you while he sleeps keeps the dreams away.

[angstywaifu]

Not Meant To Care - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Prompt - “Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever!” from anonymous. A/N: I definitely didn't forget to schedule this weeks posts. Not at all.... Anyway, enjoy some Xaden! Masterlist

Every part of my body screamed at me as I hobbled down the stairs from the flight field. The pain reminding me of the first few times I flew on my dragon last year. It had been a while since I had felt like this. Today an opposing squad from another wing had been paired with ours for the class. And it had gone bad fast.

The other squad were on us in seconds despite it being a class to learn new manoeuvres. I had fallen victim to two other riders sandwiching me and my dragon between theirs. With them having larger dragons they had easily manoeuvred us into a flip, and I hadn’t had a chance to grip onto my dragon properly before I was thrown from their back. Luckily another squad member had seen it and flew over to catch me. But the impact had shook my entire body. Everything now aching and hurting because of it. Each step causing another ripple of pain to shoot you my body. The pain getting worse with every step. I had been dumb enough to brush off my squad mates when we got back and was now alone for my decent back to the quadrant. It was going to be a long and painful hobble over to the healers.

After what feels like hours I finally descend into the rotunda. A few people turn and whisper as I hobble in and start to make my way towards the healers. I hear rushed footsteps and look up to see Bodhi and Imogen rushing over to me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bodhi asks urgently as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side, taking the brunt of my weight.

I wince in pain, but without bearing all of my weight I can’t help the sigh of relief as I lean into Bodhi.

“Just a little mishap in flight training.” I get out between gritted teeth.

“A little mishap that’s left your hobbling across the court yard like you’re in your ninety’s?” Imogen questions as she falls into step as Bodhi slowly walks me towards the healers quadrant.

I wince in pain as Bodhi walks us up some stairs, causing them both to share a concerned look.

“It’s fine. Nothing a healer can’t fix.” I tell them sternly.

“Y/N, you are the best flier in your year and probably one of the best in the quadrant right now. This isn’t little.” Bodhi’s voice pleading me to tell them what had happened.

As we turn the corner to the healers quadrant I wince in pain, my eyes screwing shut. I don’t even register the sound of Imogen’s rushed footsteps leading away from us as Bodhi hurries me towards the healers quadrant.

Bodhi barges through the door, fully taking my weight as he is guided towards the back area of the room where the menders reside. I groan in pain as he lowers me on the bed. I barely register the nurse and Bodhi talking as I focus on my breathing. Clearly the impact of the fall had caused more damage than I had thought.

Something cold on my head startles me and I look up to see Bodhi pressing a damp cloth to my head. I sigh in relief, the coolness taking the edge off the pain. He offers a small smile as I feel something wash over me. I look over to see a mender grasping my hand in theirs. I feel my body slowly release the pain. As if they are drawing it into themselves through our connected hands. My body sags in relief as the tension is released. My eyes start to flutter close. A side effect of mending was the toll it took on the mended and the patient. As I fall into a peaceful slumber I vaguely hear a loud gruff voice yelling my name in the distance.

When I open my eyes I immediately know I’m not in the healers quadrant. Instead I lie in a much softer bed, tucked into a blanket. As I breathe, I note the smells of mint, leather and something that reminds me of a flower or citrus. I’d smelt it before, but where? My answer quickly comes to me as the sound of a chair creaking draws my eyes over to the last person I expected to see. Xaden. I was in Xaden’s room. Xaden who I’d always had a stupid crush on, despite how much we despised each other. We had never gotten along. Always bickering and pestering each other. Pushing each others buttons whenever we could. And yet here I was. In his bed as he watched over me. His Onyx eyes scan over me, assessing me for any pain. As I stretch and sit up I am relieved to feel none of the pain I had felt earlier. Even in the lower light of the room I note Xaden’s shoulders sag in relief, as if relieved to see I am no longer in pain. But the expression on his face remains almost neutral, except for the twitch of his jaw.

”Care to explain?” He asks, anger evident in his tone.

”I don’t need to explain anything.” I snap at him as I shove the blanket off me and stand.

I go to shove past him but his hands grasps my wrist tightly, turning me back to him.

”Yes you do. Now how the hell did you go from being perfectly fine after lunch, to being in excruciating pain to the point Bodhi had to drag you to the healers.” He demands, his onyx eyes piercing into mine.

I nearly cave under his gaze. Tell him what he wants. But I do what I always do. Push his buttons and push him away. Just like the stupid feelings I have for him.

”Like I said. I don't need to explain anything to you. Just a flight manoeuvre that went wrong.” I snap again as I pull my wrist from his hand. “Why are you acting like you care? Since when did you ever care about me?”

”Since fucking forever!” He snaps, his words echoing around his room as silence falls over us.

Xaden’s eyes go wide as he realises what he’s said. The panic clearly evident in them as he looks into mine. As if his emotions had taken over and he hadn’t meant to reveal what he had.

“Y-you hate me. You don’t care about me.” I say, my voice shaking slightly as I slightly shake my head at him.

No, there’s no way Xaden feels the same way I do. No way does he have the same feelings I shouldn’t have for him. The feelings I try to dampen every single day. He can’t.

”But I do. I do fucking care as much as I might not show it. I fucking care about you.” He takes a step towards me, my neck craning back to look up at him as his body becomes flush with mine. He’s so close I swear he could hear how loudly my heart is beating. “And I know you do to. As much as we might try to prove we hate each other every day. We haven’t for a while.”

I shake my head. ”No, we haven’t” I admit.

As my words leave my mouth, the smirk I tried to convince myself I hated on a daily basis but secretly loved graced his lips. The lips I had wanted on mine since we came to this god damn death college. As if we share the same thoughts, Xaden grasps my face between his hands and pulls me into a kiss, before guiding us over to the bed.

[pvrkacciosan]

Kicks and Kisses

Summary: After the readers run-in with Xaden's training methods, Bodhi isn't in any rush to let her back on them defenseless so takes it upon himself to teach her a few things.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Bodhi Durran X Marked Fem! Reader

Word Count: uncounted

Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, fighting training, Mature language content

☽⋆❈⋆☾

With the valiant help from a group of young healers you were released from the prescribed rest, and were able to get yourself back up and moving within a week.

You were still tender but your breathing wouldn't cut out on you and the blinding pain was no longer erupting behind your eyes rendering you useless in ever sense.

But still Bodhi had refused to let you return back to your own dorm in that time. Even when you had a perfectly good bed there.

Those beds are un-comfy and you know it.

You rolled your eyes at Asra, whether she could sense your attitude, you were hopeful she couldn't,

I don't understand why he won't let me go back to my own bed. That chair can't be very comfortable. You stared at the chair positioned on the far side of the room, the one Bodhi had been sleeping in whilst you took his bed. You didn't understand why you were entertaining such topics of conversation with her. Talking with Asra had always come naturally, like a sister you could confine in, and the subject of Bodhi Durran left your chest feeling warm in a rather pleasant way.

So Invite him into the bed with you.

It wasn't difficult for you to sense every dripping pulse of Asra's amusement, you gawked at her words in your head.

I can't do that. Won't it be awkward You couldn't help but contemplate the outcome.

Don't be foolish girl. You're a dragon rider, start acting like it. If you want something you might just start acting like that Riorson boy, heys taken the silver one to bed.

You didn't want to know where she had got that piece of information. But the notion of what she was speaking... There was a difference between asking Bodhi to share his bed and committing to taking him in his bed.

When Asra laughed in your head, you clamped your knees together, trying to ignore the heat that was building there. As you ripped the covers of Bodhi's bed from atop your body, you could't stop the swirling of those blood igniting thoughts. Couldn't decide what you would want more, to have him sleeping in the bed with you, or having him take you in the bed you had come to love.

The quilt scented of him. A deep smell that you hadn't noticed the first night you slept, it lingered on everything in this room.

His scent has been all over you. Asra's voice in your head, you only assumed she was referring to when you had gone flying yesterday, trying to ease yourself back into training once you got the all clear from the healers.

Bodhi and Cuir had flown with you both yesterday, positioning himself slightly below you, to catch you should you fall off Asra's back.

I would have caught you. Asra's voice was dripping with some tone you couldn't place, Laughing lightly in your own head you shot it down the bond. She didn't respond beyond that of a gentle huff.

Closing up the wall between you. Moving to begin gathering ouself from the room. Bodhi was supposed to meet you down at the mats for an initial round of training, trying to strengthen the muscles and reconditioning them to get back to what they had once been.

And as usual, you were running late. At least you could use the excuse of your lingering injuries. They weren't as painful, just uncomfotable. Especially your shoulder, a mender had reattached many of the tendsons and ligaments in your shoulder, but you still have only light movement in the joint.

Moving down through the halls, you rounded into the training room. The mats laid out as per usual, there were a couple cadets scattered around each pair training away from one another in private lessons.

Strolling in softly you glanced around and spotted two famiar bodies. Sauntering closer you watched them, matching hit for powerful hit on one another.

Bodhi and Xaden often never sparred with each other. Garrick was the usual go-to. The third boy was on the side of the mat, arms folded as he watched the cousins spar. You moved to stand beside the giant.

"Hey Y/n" He offered you a small smile.

At the sound of your names, Bodhi glanced up, un-focusing the fight at hand. It landed him a stiff jaw from the next punch Xaden landed. Blinking to look you over once, Bodhi dodged out the way of his cousins next hit.

You watched from the side returning Garrick's smile with one of your own before turning back unaware of the excited glances Garrick was switching between you and Bodhi.

"Garrick.," Bodhi warned as he dodged a swing from Xaden before getting a punch in at the Wingleader's ribs.

You glance questioningly up at the boy beside you, Garrick coughed, covering his smirk with a hand.

"They are sparring to burn off...Pent up...emotions"

You frowned at him, that definitely was not what Garrick was entertaining in his thoughts. You squinted at him before glancing to watch Bodhi swing hard and fast for Xaden. What Bodi lacked in size against his cousin and Garrick he surely made up for in speed. His exposed muscles rippling with each movement. Your gaze zones in on the sweat gleaming, coating every inch of his skin.

What it would be like to have his body pressed against you own on that bed, having him above or below you, At each others mercy.

You're drooling

You went to snip back at Asra but she hid behind your mental shield straight after her own words.

Paranoia took hold, Twisting away from Garrick slightly you wiped at your lower lip and chin with the back of your hand. You weren't but you still sense Asra's lingering amusement at your sudden panic.

Turning back to watch, Xaden and Bodhi panting hard as they finally parted from one another on the mat. Bodhi gave Xaden's shoulder a rough shoves but they were both smiling as they stepped back.

Xaden initially avoided your gaze. You hadn't seen the Wingleader since the day of your injury. Besides once when he had tried to come see you. Bodhi had refused to let him in then and you could still recall the sound of them arguing outside the bedroom door.

He tried now to get out of the way, Slipping from the room. Bodhi folded his arms across his chest clearing his throat, Xaden froze. Pivoting to meet your stare.

"Y/n I'm sorry for putting you on that mat" His tone was so awkward even you didn't know what exactly to say. Bodhi rose his eyebrows when Xaden cast him a sidelong glance.

The Wingleader sighed, "It was clear you didn't want to fight, I shouldn't have made you and it won't happen again"

Bodhi was grinning like an idiot in your direction when Xaden finally rose back to his full height. Bodhi watching you intently, waiting for you to acknowledge his efforts in making his cousin apologize. Something about the way he smiled at you made the strings in your heart cinch. Asra slide into your mind, her presence alone snapping you from watching Bodhi.

Glancing to Xaden, "I'm fine Xaden. I'm alive am I not?" The Wingleader waited. Attention flicking to Bodhi, You warily followed his stare. A muscle beneath Bodhi's eyes twitched, Garrick caught it after seeing the expression on your own face. Spinning himself into the middle of the two and clasped Xaden roughly on one shoulder.

"Right we're off to find your opponent from that day. Try and make sure Imogen hasn't gutted the girl for her slander against you" Garrick's usually stoic face was set in a grin, you had a feeling he might sooner set Imogen on the girl first before saving her hide.

Garrick and Xaden stalked from the mats, leaving the room entirely within a few long strides,

When you turned back to obverse Bodhi, heat bloomed in your cheeks to find him already watching you.

"Right" He shook his head, these dark curls shaking to cover his brow bone. "Let's get started."

After running through a quick warm up with him your skin had already formed up quite a sweat. Many of the other cadets had vacated the training room, probably to attend to other daily duties.

Bodhi had been wary of your shoulder joint and coached you through each movement, sometimes he would place a hand against your body to steady the off balance the injuries had given you and It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus.

Moving off the mat to grab a quick drink of water you tried to organise the shambling thoughts which flushed your flesh to the core.

"We will move onto some evasion techniques and manoeuvrers to get yourself out of someone's grip."

You nodded, taking a quick final gulp of the water, evasion and defensive practise that would be fine. You had done this before.

You turned to move back onto the mat when your thoughts finally processed what you were getting yourself into. There was only a few ways to actively practise these sorts of manoeuvrers . Ones that involved lots of bodily contact.

You blinked as Bodhi shook his muscles, rolling each of his joints, The silence prompted him to look up

"I won't bite" there was a boyish smirk gracing his lips, it was an expression you had seen on him for years since knowing each other, often when causing mischief. The only form of consistency it offered you now was that it caused your heart to hammer harder against your ribs.

Pull yourself together. You were reducing yourself to no better than a teenage boy seeing a women naked for the first time in his life. Sighing deeply you moved onto the mat.

Bodhi stilled hands clasping together, allowing you to come closer, he watched carefully, assessing you.

"How is your shoulder feeling?"

Prompted by his question you rolled the ball and socket joint, easing deeper into the muscle there. They ached slightly but nothing more beyond overexerting the shoulder.

"All good" smiling softly you ignored the joint focusing now as Bodhi began to prepare himself.

"We are going to start with something simple. If someone tries to grab you from the front."

He waited for you to nod before continuing, "I'm going to grab for you and all you have to do is get me off you. We will critique everything once we've gone through every scenario "

He didn't wait for your acknowledgement now, unprepared you stepped back when both of Bodhi's hands came up towards you. As his body followed through your own muscle memory kicked in, grabbing his right wrist you jammed a thumb into the pulse point there and twisted— hard.

Bodhi let loose a grunt as he moved with the twisting limb, following so you wouldn't break his arm entirely. You only let go once his limb was flush unnaturally against his back.

"Good." He turned shaking his wrist lightly "That was perfect. Could be a little quicker with your reaction time, but we will work on that in our next session"

You nodded, worriedly glancing at his wrist perhaps you had been too forceful.

"This time we are going to run with the scenario that I actually got a hold on you"

Bodhi closed the gap separating you both, slowly raises his hands, hesitating with them hovering your body, noting their destined locations you gave Bodhi the go ahead. He rests his hand on your left shoulder the other at the base of your neck.

"Right.." Bodhi cleared his throat, "I'm going to pretend to be trying to push you back as if to get you.. against a wall. Get out of my grip."

Nervous, you glance at him, he offers an encouraging smile, nodding softly you tried desperately to ignore as his grip squeezes lightly against you body, try to ignore the pander of heartbeats that flutter in you.

When Bodhi began to push back you resisted, planting a foot behind to stabilise the weight of you. The muscles in the back of the leg stretching with the pressure. The result of Bodhi pushing you however; his hand pushing into your windpipe, slowing the flow of air to you with dizzying affect and not from the lack of oxygen.

Relaxing the breaths you took, You made quick work of trying to lessen his grip. Pressing your finger into his wrist's pulse point.

"Find somethinng new. That's not going to work a second time"

Frustration grew like a building short circuit. You knew strength wasn't your biggest fighting factor, it was instinct at this point born and bred as a female to go for a man's weakest point and it was taking everything within your resolve to not kick between his legs.

Pressure point began quizzing through your mind. Bodhi watches as your eyes flicked across his body ravaging at the sight of your attention on him. Felt the heat of it across every inch of his aching skin, tensioned for the need of touch, your touch. You were simply looking for his weaknesses, ones you could reach from the position you were currently in.

Shifting your weight into the side he held a hand to your throat, you rammed your thumb under his arm, nail digging into the soft flesh there.

Bodhi loosens his grip enough for you to duck under the other arm and release yourself. Bouncing back on the balls of your feet, you teetered towards the edges of the mat.

Bodhi rounded with a smirk, shooting a quick wink your way, "Atta Girl." The genuine pride and excitement in his tone made your cheeks flush.

Any focus you had fought to obtain since the beginning of this session slipped entirely away from you in that second. Shallow breathing, you shook yourself off the rising tension with it.

"Again." Bodhi gestured you back for the middle of the mat, "This time I'm coming at you from behind"

The air hauled in your throat, gulping quickly and moving back to the centre. Bodhi stepped up behind you.

He gave you even less warning. Albeit you could have used one this time unexpecting of his arms to latch themselves around your torso.

You needed to focus, focus on getting yourself out of his hold, but the only thing swirling in your mind was how close his body now was to yours, you could feel the rippling warm muscles on his chest against your back.

His arms tightened and you gasped lightly when you felt the sensation of his palm brush up the side of your breast, the material of your clothing ruffling as he righted his grip

A pulse of fresh warmth coursed through you, blooming from your core. It was almost painful as the material brushed the peak of your nipple.

If this was how your body reacted to his unintentional intimate touches you could only imagine what he might do to you intentionally.

"You seem distracted." the heat of his breath fanned your neck when he whispered the words against the shell of your ear, close enough you swore on your life that was his lips brush the curve.

Nerves rippled against him. You needed to get your shit together, but. . .

There was a smugness in his tone. That bastard, was he potentially... teasing on purpose to distract you? You swallowed a scoff. Two could definitely play at this game.

Grabbing his elbow you made an attempt to lift his arm up over your head, the well tones limb didn't move, but you couldn't resist the smile, for it was a cover up.

Rolling your hips and pushing you ass back against him. With the shared closeness he had created you heard his breath stuttered behind your ear and felt his pulse skyrocket.

Who was the distracted one now, driving the heel of your foot into the top of his, you heard the oxygen whoosh into his lungs as he hissed. Elevating the foot ever so slightly.

You wouldn't have the strength to throw him over your shoulder but if he was off balance as he was now. Gripping both hands as far up his arm as you could reach you twisted sharply into his unbalanced side.

Feeling his weight falling against you own you planted both legs to limit the chance of you falling too.

When Bodhi hit the ground you were diligent, moving quickly while he stunned to recall his senses.

Swinging one leg you planted yourself above him to pin him below you.

There was a second were you hadn't thought, just did. Hadn't realised what you were doing until you did it. Hadn't realised you now straddled his waist, hadn't realised you might have miscalculated the extent of your teasing until you felt the growth hardening beneath your ass.

Bodhi blinked at you in wild surprise as though he too now realised what had been done.

Had he not been thinking just as you hadn't? Simply following movements and feelings that felt so inheritable right until there was an irreversible shift between you both. Bodies welded together from where you sat atop him.

Every nerve in you was jackhammering in your heart, blood thrumming against your hearing. An unmistakable ache was growing between your legs, one which could and would lead to decisions you knew were irreversible.

Perhaps Bodhi had been teasing you simply to district, there was nothing attached to that. No emotion or feeling.

Foolish girl. You hadn't realised Asra had been listening into your thoughts, Had failed to notice she had lowered her shield. Is that how distracted Bodhi had made you?

You went to move from his lap, but Bodhi groaned, the sound low and guttural from deep at the back of his throat, head falling back with his eyes squeezing shut. Without looking his hand found your thigh, squeezing to hold you in place,

"Don't move." The guttural throaty sound in his voice blinded your every sense, glancing to his veined hand you couldn't rip your attention away until Bodhi blinked at you startled, a muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened.

Within the next second you attempted to lift yourself back off him, in one swift movement, Bodhi pushed himself up with a hand behind him. Using the grip on your leg to keep you on top of him, the positions now pushing you to sit further onto his growing erection.

It wasn't until he rightened himself that Bodhi released his grip only to move it across your body, you felt it clasp the back of your neck as he leaned closer pulling you with him and wasted no more time of colliding his lips with yours.

You stilled, stunned as his lips moved against your own, Asra's presence stroking against your mind prompting you from the stupor, her rebuilding her shield was enough of a hint and approval.

Softening your tense muscles you wrapped both arms to encircle around his shoulders, pulling your chest closer to his. Letting one hand slip to cup the back of his head. Fingers threading his dark curls.

Bodhi continued denying himself breath as he smiled, feeling you finally give in. Letting yourself match him. Giving and receiving the hot kisses, fast and swift.

They continued, hungry for more. Starved for the touch of one another. It was a sensation you didn't know you wanted — needed.

The heat encased between your bodies made your heart hammer into overdrive, Lifting your weight and then lowering it with a roll of your hips, causing friction against the now obvious erection beneath you.

Bodhi exhaled sharp and hot against your mouth, pulling from your lips. Once more his eyes squinted shut, brow furrowed.

You couldn't pry your attention away. The expression on his face alone set you emotions spiralling. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure rolled into one.

Wiggling your ass down, Bodhi groaned louder this time. His eyes snapped open to level with your own, within that hungry fire that was beginning to demand more of you: a desire you would happily indulge.

Even within that burning, there was still a softness to Bodhi, he was still the same man you grew up with, a comfort you had come to depend on.

He grinned as he watched you, eyes flicking to scan every inch of your face. You shivered as Bodhi dragged a hand across you collar bone, up your neck to cup the line of your jaw. Thumb rubbing into your now swollen lower lip.

He leaned so close once more that you now shared a combined airspace.

"We shouldn't continue" the smirk growing on his lips said more. The growing heat within you was answer enough, rubbing a hand into his jaw, for the thrill of it you shook you head leaning closer still. "We shouldn't"

Tightening your grip at the back of his head, fingers twisting into a strand of hair, Bodhi dipped his head to yours, lips a whisper apart.

"Kiss me again" His voice turned throaty, the blood in you warming at his touch, "Please" the shift in his tone was astonishing.

Giving yourself over, leaning to rejoin him, a coil of tension grew in the core of your chest. You kissed him fully, Pulling Bodhi into you.

Bodhi broke the connection after a second, "Atta girl" he was already smirking by the time he kissed you again.

That coil continued to tighten. This was an irreversible decision, this pairing. It could easily cleave you in two.

But this moment as Bodhi began to lower his kisses flowing down the column of your throat, you couldn't bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

[xxchumanixx]

tim bradford x reader

tim knows the reader has a crush on him and so he likes to play around with her about it (flirt, etc) maybe a confession at the end after the reader has finally had enough

Stop talking

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: hurt, angst, fluff Word count: 2.508 Authors note: Hello love, I hope you'll like how I wrote it! I'm not a hundred percent happy with it, but that could just be me being tired of studying. Anyways, let's get going!

Enjoy!

Tim and you had been best friends for years now.

You two had went through thick and thin.

He was there with you, whenever you needed him, being your shoulder to cry on or being your support.

You were there for him, when things with Isabel went downhill, her addiction breaking him apart piece by piece, until she had left him in the middle of the night, shattering him completely.

You remember him calling, frantically asking where she went. But you didn't know, being as clueless as him - even more so, not knowing that she was doing drugs in the first place.

When he then confessed her addiction, you nearly lost it. He had went through all of this suffering, carrying this burden for months, all alone.

He should have told you, even if you might would have ratted her out - she couldn't have been going on carrying a weapon whilst being high.

A responsibility she wasn't able to hold anymore.

You've been there for Tim, never letting him down. But as you were taking care of him, supporting him, something inside you slowly shifted.

Or maybe it had been there all along, but you never would have dared to dig further.

You fell in love with him, as wrong as it was. You couldn't love him, not like that, he was your best friend. But as time carried on, your feelings only grew stronger.

It didn't help that he dated a few women over time, breaking your heart again and again.

Somehow along the way of you being his heart mender, he became your heart breaker.

One night, when you were drunk as hell, having gone out to a party, you might have let it slip - or at least hinted at it. You didn't remember everything, but you were quite sure that he knew about your feelings.

Still you hoped for the contrary.

He occasionally would flirt with you - nothing he never did before, no matter with who. But it made your heart flutter, nonetheless.

Especially since he did it more frequently. You weren't able to tell a joke and an earnest flirt from him apart anymore.

It went from him brushing your hand, hugging you on a night out with a few friends to him kissing your cheek, whispering things into your ear.

Nothing seemed too serious, but it confused you, fueling your feelings for him even further. He wasn't like this before.

"Come on, don't be a party pooper!" Tim complained, pointing at the shot of tequila in front of you. Rolling your eyes, you downed it, before slamming it back on the table, after you had refused to drink it at first.

"Happy now?" you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him, even though you weren't really angry with him.

You were at the bar with a few friends, including Tim. He had brought a round of tequila shots to your table, causing you to grimace.

The last time you had tequila, you almost confessed your feelings to him.

He nodded proudly, grinning at you, the action making you swallow, as your heart beat a tad faster.

He would be the death of you.

"What do you say we dance a little?" he asked, already standing up, not giving you any chance to protest. Rolling your eyes playfully, you grabbed the hand he was offering you, following him onto the dance floor, to where most of your friends had already went off to.

Your fingers tingled as they came in contact with his, sending pleasant shivers up your bare arms.

He normally isn't one to dance, you noted. But he seemed a little different the past few weeks, anyway. Maybe it's nothing.

He chuckled, as you clumsily followed his movements.

Yeah, you really weren't one to dance, either.

He approached you, hands on your hips as he started to guide you. "I'm not that bad." you complained, causing one of his brows to rise. "Tell that to my feet." he retorted, grinning.

You blushed, looking away for a split second, as his hands sent a certain warmth through you.

"Are you okay?" he wanted to know, sounding worried. You nodded, sending him a smile that was meant to reassure him.

Even if he wasn't yours, he was at least for this moment.

His fingers dug into your waist, his thumbs brushing circles on your skin, were your shirt had cutouts.

Maybe you shouldn't have listened to Angela when she told you to buy it. It seemed a little flimsy, nothing you would have typically picked.

It just was too exposing.

Now, you were pretty sure every being on planet earth was able to see the goosebumps forming on your skin.

Tim tugged you a little closer, his breath fanning over your face. He did that often lately, you noted again. He more frequently would seek your proximity, even if it was just a brush of his hand against yours, or something as simple as a hug.

He did it on purpose, you were sure of it by now.

He had to bite his tongue, when you entered the bar earlier. Angela really had it coming for him, your shirt with the cutouts surely her doing.

She knew that it was complicated - at least for him it was. He had refrained from thinking about you in a different way more than once, knowing it would lead to no good.

At least not for him.

He wasn't blind, and he wasn't dumb either. When he had picked you up from a party a few weeks ago, you said something that wouldn't leave his mind.

"I'm never the one."

He had asked what you meant, his gaze briefly wandering towards you, as he drove on the still crowded streets of LA.

"I try so hard but I'm never the one." you had just mumbled, looking out of the window. "I'm so dumb. I'm in love with my -" your words were drowned out by someone honking, clearly unhappy with Tim stopping at a red light.

Dumbass.

He could only assume what you were talking about, or rather who, having to bite his lip as the possibilities of how your sentence would have ended pointed at him - your best friend - as well.

It wasn't like he didn't harbor some feelings for you, too. No, in fact they kept him up at night, plaguing his thoughts even when he was dating someone.

But they weren't you.

When you cared for him when Isabel left, he truly learned to value you. He got to know you in a different way, not the best friend one, but the passionate woman you were.

And he couldn't help but keep thinking about it. About you.

"You look good tonight." Tim noted, causing you to blush again, as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. A smile lightly graced your lips, as your eyes met his, the intensity of his stare stealing your breath.

"Thank you." you returned. "You look pretty good as well." He chuckled, smirking. "I know, baby." he agreed playfully, causing you to huff out a laugh, shaking your head at him.

The endearment made your heart flutter, the sound of it still ringing in your head.

Baby...

You liked it.

It added to the list of names he had called you during the past few weeks: darling, sunshine, sweetheart and now baby.

But, over the time he acted different towards you now, it came to bother you a little bit. Did he nowadays call everyone of his friends baby? Did his hands brush those of others like they did yours?

You knew it was silly - to even interpret something into it, was silly as hell.

But you couldn't help it.

Sometimes, like right now, as one of his hands slid a little more downwards, his face inches from yours, you were unsure, not knowing why he did it.

Did he even know himself?

His cologne clouded your senses, the room slightly spinning, and you finally had enough.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, slipping out of his grasp, before hastily making your way towards the front door, pushing it open.

You needed fresh air, otherwise you couldn't think straight.

Fighting against the tears in your eyes, you let out a silent, frustrated cry, hands balling into fists, after you stopped a few feet away.

Something you realized a while back, came to your mind again.

Either you had to quit your friendship, or you had to get rid of these feelings for him.

Both options were heartbreaking.

The door pushed open behind you, steps echoing through the night, before he stood before you. Of course his protective instinct had to kick in.

"What happened?" he wanted to know, confusion and worry etched into his features. "I'm good, just needed some fresh air." you lied, trying to reassure him, not looking at him though.

He shook his head, not believing you. "Y/N, you know you can tell me everything." he tried to get you to open up, but you just snorted.

You didn't mean to, really, it just slipped out.

He leaned down, his eyes searching yours. "Y/N." he pressed, even more worried by your reaction.

"Are you having fun?" you snapped at him, finally looking up. He leaned back a little, brows furrowing. "What do you mean?" he asked, knowing that you didn't mean hanging out at the bar.

You huffed, barely being able to contain a frustrated laugh.

"Do you like making a fool out of me?" you asked a bit louder, arms crossed over your chest. "Because I don't. Whatever it is you are currently going through, don't let it out on me."

His mouth was agape, as he tried to process what you said. "What do you mean?" he wanted to know, though it seemed to dawn on him. He really should have kept more to himself.

"I mean your-" you searched for the right words, getting frustrated again. "Your constant over the top flirtatious behavior, the touches! Maybe I'm just misinterpreting things, but something's been different for the last couple weeks!"

He huffed, brows raised. He was right with his assumption, he had to admit that he went overboard with it. But he wanted to test his theory - and he had desperately hoped he was right.

"Do you remember the night I picked you up, after that party you went to?´" he inquired, biting his cheek.

Of course you did - how could you not if you almost spilled the truth in your drunken state?

"What about it?" you gave back, not sure if you really wanted to hear it. "Do you remember what you said?" he asked, eyes fixed on yours. Inhaling shakily, you licked your lip.

"I don't know what you mean."

His eyes rolled, as he shook his head, getting worked up. His patience was running thin, you playing dumb not helping the case.

"You know exactly what I mean." he deadpanned, arms crossing over his chest. Trying to hold back the tears that welled up, you looked down at the ground. "And?"

He sighed, taking a small step closer.

"I know what you feel."

He risked it, he had to. He didn't have the patience to play around. He needed to know if he was right.

"I know that you have feelings for me."

Your heart stopped, before it doubled its speed, as your cheeks grew unbearably hot.

"You don't know what I feel." you tried to deflect, shaking your head as a tear managed to spill. "You don't know how it feels to love someone you can't have, to watch the person you have feelings for go out on dates. To watch said person delve into a relationship, breaking your heart over and over again."

He sucked in a breath, finally having his confirmation.

"But I-" he wanted to interject, but you didn't let him.

"You don't know, how hard it is to have to choose." you continued, briefly looking up at him. His face was contorted, like he was in pain, as he opened his mouth to speak - but you didn't let him, again.

"Either I get rid of these feelings as quick as possible or I distance myself. It both fucking hurts to think about."

He grew impatient, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, as he waited for you to shut up. But you were rambling on, eventually causing him to snap.

"You-" He didn't let you talk this time, as he grabbed your face, pulling you closer, not giving you any time to process, as his lips met yours. They moved demandingly against yours, his hands tilting your head to get better access.

When your mind finally processed what was happening, you returned the kiss, leaning towards him.

Why was he kissing you?

Not that you complained, though. It felt heavenly, his lips being soft and warm. They moved in synch with yours, his tongue licking into your mouth.

When he let go of you after a while, you gasped for air, eyes wide as you looked at him.

"Stop talking." he muttered, breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide. "I wasn't sure if I heard you right. But I had to try - I had to know it. Yes, I fooled around by flirting with you, but that was to find out how you'd react."

One of his hands brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, before it stilled on your cheek.

"I have feelings for you, Y/N." he admitted and the butterflies in your stomach exploded. "I know that it's wrong, but fuck it. After what happened with Isabel, I didn't want to fall in love with someone like you again - someone that knows me like the back of her hand, someone that knows all my weak spots. But I was wrong. I never should have dated someone just to get rid of these feelings for you - instead I should have asked you out on a date."

Mouth agape, you stared at him, pure happiness and warmth pulsing through you.

"And that's what I'm gonna do now." he continued, eyes locked onto yours. "Do you want to go out for dinner with me?"

A tear managed to escape your eye, but he was quick to wipe it away.

"Yes, Tim, I'd love to." you spoke shakily, smiling at him through the tears in your eyes. "And yes, you are right - I do have feelings for you. I just never thought you would even consider me."

He rolled his eyes, muttering a bullshit.

"Let's go out and we'll see if my flirting is appreciated now." he offered, smirking a little. Huffing, you swatted at his arm. "It was appreciated, thank you very much."

He laughed, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders, as he guided you back to the bar.

"Let's go, or we'll be arrested for not paying our bills."

"Our first date being in a cell at the police station - how romantic!"

[writinginatree]

Caught

Relationship(s): Brennan Sorrengail/female!Riorson!reader, Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Garrick Tavis & sister!reader

Summary: Your older brother and closest friends get overprotective when they find out you've started dating your mentor Brennan behind their backs.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 20, Brennan is... however old he canonically is. 29? 30? Idk), being caught making out, threats and teasing. First time I'm writing for Brennan, so pls don't judge too harshly.

Anonymous requested: Heyy can you make a platonic fic where Xaden is y/ns brother and she gets her signet which is kind of similar to brennan's so y/n and brennan start hanging out and they start liking each other so they start secretly dating. But one day Xaden, Bhodi and Garrick catch them (the three can be protective)

Afterwards, you can't even say which of them caught you first, because your eyes were closed when they walked in. Had they been open, you probably still wouldn't have noticed, busy sticking your tongue down Brennan's throat as you were. It wasn't until you heard the noise of disgust from the doorway that the two of you realized someone had walked in. You immediately sprang apart, but it was too late.

The secret is out, and now you have to deal with the consequences of not locking the door in form of the three overprotective guys standing in the door to Brennan's office.

"What the hell," Xaden growls, and for maybe the first time in your life, you understand why people are afraid of him. That is murder shining in his dark eyes, directed straight at your secret boyfriend.

For a tense few seconds, everyone is silent. You find yourself wishing you had a signet like Imogen's to simply erase what they just saw from their memories, but of course you would have never gotten so close with Brennan in the first place if you weren't a mender.

"Could we just pretend you guys didn't see that?" you try to diffuse the tension.

Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi answer as one without even looking at you. "No."

Their furious expressions are so similar that if you squint, it almost seems like your brother has multiplied. As if one angry Xaden wouldn't be trouble enough.

"Thought so..." you sigh, and exchange a look with Brennan, who gives you a tight-lipped smile that you assume is meant to be reassuring. You're too nervous to be reassured, though. This situation has a huge potential to get very ugly.

"Care to enlighten us on what exactly it is that we just saw?" Garrick challenges, cocking his head at you.

"It's called kissing," you retort. Maybe being snippy isn't the best idea, considering how pissed they are, but you can't help how annoyed you are by the interruption. "If you're not familiar with the term, we have a library where I'm sure you'll find a dictionary to look it up."

"Really," Xaden growls. "You sure about that? Because it looked like a lot more than kissing, considering where he had his hands."

Damn it. You were hoping none of them had noticed Brennan's hands under your shirt, or the way you'd been perched on the edge of his desk with your legs on either side of his hips, but of course you couldn't be so lucky.

Thank gods things hadn't gone far enough for any clothing to come off yet.

Even as it is, you're not sure how the fuck you're going to keep your brother from murdering Brennan. There can be no doubt he wants to, not with that look on his face. It's a testament to Xaden's self-restraint that he isn't at his throat already.

You take a step to the side, positioning yourself in front of your boyfriend, just in case the situation escalates, but Xaden isn't having it. His shadows wrap around your arms and pull you away from Brennan, not releasing you until you're right in between Bodhi and Garrick with Xaden in front of you.

"Hey! What the fuck, Xay!" you yell, only to be ignored. When you try to walk back over to Brennan's side, a waist high wall of shadows blocks your path.

Brennan asks, a lot more calmly than you, "Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

In your opinion, Xaden is overreacting a lot. This is ridiculous. The three of them have always been very protective of you, but this is a whole new level of overprotectiveness, even for them. Maybe it's because they've never had the chance to give someone the shovel talk before, since both of the two relationships you've had so far — if you can even call them that, considering they consisted of no more than a handful of dates each — had taken place while the boys were already away at Basgiath. Or maybe it's the suddenness of unsuspectingly opening a door only to be met with the sight of you and Brennan making out.

If you'd just told them you're dating, it might have gone better. You had meant to tell them — eventually.

You had known all along you wouldn't be able to keep your relationship hidden forever. Xaden has a talent for sniffing out people's secrets — probably a side effect of having so many of them himself. You didn't want to keep it secret forever, only as long as the relationship was still fresh, until you figured things out a little more. The problem was the question of how to tell people without them making a big deal of it. Both of you knew right from the start people would judge you once they found out — because of the age difference between you, because he is a Lieutenant Colonel and you're just a first-year cadet, because he is the one instructing you as a mender.

Of all the ways your brother — or rather brothers, since Bodhi and Garrick are just as close to you as Xaden — could have found out, this is just about the worst.

"Overreacting?" Xaden asks in that deceptively soft tone that usually promises a painful death. "I catch you being all over my fucking baby sister, and you think I'm overreacting for putting some distance between you and her until I know what the fuck is going on here?"

Brennan rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "No. I get that. But it's not what it might have looked like."

"Isn't it? Then please, do tell me what the fucking hell you think you were doing with my baby sister."

Before Brennan can do so, you snap, "I am not a baby! I'm twenty!"

Xaden only spares you the barest glance, but that's enough for you to realize he's not just angry with Brennan, but with you, too. His curt answer confirms that. "You're grounded is what you are."

You gape at him, not sure you heard him right. "You can't ground me!"

"Watch me."

Just like that, he dismisses you, turning back to Brennan and demanding he explain himself. As if nothing you have to say about this even matters.

"You're being ridiculous, Xaden! What I'm doing with my boyfriend is none of your fucking business!"

Damn, it feels good to actually call Brennan that out loud.

Your brother looks momentarily put off by your giving Brennan that title, but ultimately ignores the statement. He doesn't even turn to look at you again. "I'd like to talk to Brennan alone for a moment, Y/N," he says. His voice is calm, but you can hear the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Absolutely not!"

"I promise I won't kill him... for now."

"How reassuring." You hesitate, knowing this is a fight you can't win. "Promise you won't punch or otherwise hurt him, either?"

"That depends on him."

"Go. I'll be fine," Brennan says.

You wish Xaden would let you near him. If you were in reach, he would doubtlessly be giving your hand a reassuring squeeze like he's taken to doing lately when he notices you're nervous, and right now, nervous doesn't even begin to describe how anxious you are. It's impressive how Brennan manages to stay so calm with Xaden trying to glare holes into him. Maybe his near death experience during the rebellion has made him immune to fearing for his life. Or maybe he's just good at hiding his nerves. He certainly isn't so stupid to think your brother is not a threat just because he's younger than Brennan.

"Alright." You point a threatening finger at Xaden. "But I want him back in one piece."

"Yeah, I gathered as much," he says, which isn't exactly agreement, but better than nothing.

Bodhi and Garrick lead you from the room, taking you in the middle. It simultaneously makes you feel like a child and like you're a criminal being escorted to prison. They lead you to the kitchen, the silence between you heavy like it's never been before.

"Guys—"

"Save the excuses for when Xaden is done with Brennan," Bodhi advises. He doesn't really sound angry, but when you risk a glance at his face, he's still wearing that scowl that looks like it belongs on Xaden's face instead of Bodhi's.

"I don't know why you guys are making such a big deal of this," you mutter as you take a seat at the kitchen table. "I'm more than old enough to have a boyfriend."

"That's not the point," Bodhi says. "The point is that he's too old to be your boyfriend."

"Bullshit. You're making it sound like he's ninety. Or like I'm ten."

Bodhi and Garrick shake their heads and refuse to say any more for now. You should probably be glad for the relative peace while it lasts. Once Xaden joins you, you'll be getting an earful, no doubt.

The waiting is bad. The not knowing what Xaden and Brennan are talking about, exactly, is worse. And the worst of it all is your own imagination running wild with all the horrible things that could be happening inside Brennan's office while you sit here, thinking they're just talking. Logically, you know Xaden won't attack Brennan, no matter how much he might want to. By now, he probably already realized Brennan holds no bad intentions toward you, and has calmed down. Even if he were to get violent, your boyfriend is perfectly capable of defending himself. None of these facts stop you from worrying, though.

After what feels like an eternity, Xaden walks into the kitchen. To your relief, you don't see any blood on him. That doesn't necessarily mean anything — you know he's perfectly capable of slaughtering someone without getting any of the mess on himself — but it's a good sign nonetheless. He doesn't look quite as furious anymore, either.

But not furious anymore doesn't mean his anger has evaporated. He's still far from happy, that much is evident by the look he gives you when he takes a seat across from you, folding his arms on the table. You know that look very well; it always means you're about to get lectured.

But before he can start, you can't stop yourself from asking, "You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"No," Xaden says, drumming his fingers on the table. He exchanges a look with Bodhi and Garrick, and adds, "Apparently, they're in love, so I decided to let him live."

Garrick snorts. "Well, clearly having a thing for Sorrengails runs in the family."

You ignore Garrick and glare at your brother. "If you'd just asked me, I could have told you that too. You didn't need to make such a scene."

"Watch it, or I really will ground you."

Rolling your eyes, you ask, "Why are you so mad about this, anyway? Aren't you and Brennan, like, friends?"

"That doesn't mean I want him dating my sister. He's too fucking old for you, not to mention he's supposed to be your mentor."

"I know it's not ideal. But you're not in the position to talk, considering you were Violet's wingleader when you two got together. And Brennan never gave you shit for that."

At least not as far as you know.

"Xaden and Violet are almost the same age, though," Bodhi points out. "Brennan is like, a decade older than you."

It does sound kind of bad when he phrases it like that, which is probably why he did it. Still, it's not the world-ending issue they're making it out to be.

"I'm aware. And I know that kind of age difference is a bit... unusual—"

"It's fucking weird is what it is," Garrick interjects.

"Fine, whatever. But I'm an adult, in case you haven't noticed, so—"

"A very young adult," Xaden corrects.

"Stop interrupting me! What I'm trying to say is, just because Brennan is a few years older than me doesn't mean he's taking advantage of me or anything like that. I'm not a little kid."

"No, but you're young and inexperienced. Even if he doesn't mean to take advantage of you, it's a fact that he's in a position of power over you, and you've never even had a proper relationship before."

"Just because my previous relationships ended before they really started doesn't mean they don't count. Besides, there's a first time for everything."

"Sure, but—"

"No but! Stop treating me like a godsdamned child, Xaden! I'm only three years younger than you. And I understand why you're... concerned... about the age difference between Brennan and me, okay. But—"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Xaden interrupts. "Tell us?"

"Because I knew you'd freak out!"

"We're freaking out because you kept it from us so long! How are we supposed to look out for you if we don't know about the shit you're getting yourself into?! If you really understood why we're concerned, you would have told us."

"I was going to tell you! Just... not yet."

"You should have told us the moment this started," Garrick says.

You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, glaring from one of them to the other. "Why? So you could have meddled and stopped us from getting together?"

"So we could have made sure you're safe," Bodhi insists. "We're just trying to look out for you!"

You soften a little at that. It sucks having to justify your relationship like this, but you know they're not arguing with you just to make you feel bad. They only want your best, even when they're being unreasonable and overbearing.

"I know. And I appreciate it. But there really isn't anything to worry about. Brennan is very gentlemanly, you know."

"Well, that's good."

You think maybe they'll leave it at that, but then Garrick asks, "How long has this been going on for, anyway?"

"A few weeks."

It had started innocent enough. When your signet manifested, Brennan was the obvious choice to mentor you. Before that, you'd only known him fleetingly, from Battle Brief and through Xaden. But once you started spending time with him honing your signet, your admiration for his strategic brilliance quickly grew more personal and turned into a full-blown crush.

After months of unsuccessfully trying to fight your feelings, you'd been baffled to find that Brennan returned them.

In your mind, your chances with him had seemed practically non-existent. After all, he is a revered strategist, a war hero and member of the Assembly, while you're just a cadet, constantly overlooked in comparison to your brother. You're nothing special — a good fighter, but not exceptional, bonded to a dragon that is big but not huge nor legendary. Your signet, while useful and not overly common, is nothing out of the ordinary, either. Not even your appearance is anything special — you wouldn't go so far as to call yourself ugly, but you don't have the kind of striking beauty that turns heads wherever you go, either. It's always your brother who draws everyone's eyes, while you fade into the background. Xaden is the powerful one, the brave and selfless one, the pretty and charismatic one, the leader. Meanwhile you're absolutely average in every possible way.

And yet somehow, you'd been lucky enough to earn Brennan's affections; Brennan's, who is way out of your league! You'll be damned if you let these overprotective assholes ruin that for you.

"Weeks?! You've kept this from us for multiple fucking weeks?"

"Yes, Bodhi, I did. Because I don't fucking owe you guys a report about my love life."

He winces. "Of course not. But usually a new relationship is something you tell your friends about, don't you think? Like Xaden said, we can't keep you safe if we don't know what's going on."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay?" You sigh. "I just wanted to avoid this very argument we're having, but I should have known that wouldn't be possible."

Bodhi smiles, and it feels like a peace offer. "Well, it kind of is our job to worry about you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. And you don't have to like that I'm with Brennan, but you do have to accept it."

The three share a look, and then Xaden nods. "Okay. But we'll be keeping an eye on him."

That was to be expected. You can live with that. Unnecessary as their concern seems to you, it's kind of nice to know they're watching over you.

"Okay. Then if you don't mind, I'm going to go talk to my boyfriend now." You love calling him that. You're going to do it every chance you get for the foreseeable future.

"Talk to him, yeah?" Garrick teases. "Let me guess, you mean the same kind of talking you were doing earlier?"

You ignore the gagging noises Bodhi and Xaden make at the idea, flipping the three of them off as you walk away.

Brennan is in his office where you left him, and true to Xaden's word, he's unharmed. Closing the door behind you, you let out a deep breath and slump your posture.

"Well, that was..."

"Stressful?" Brennan suggests, crossing the distance from his desk to where you stand with three long steps.

"Yeah. That sums it up." You smile. "Definitely not how I meant to spend the afternoon, but at least that matter is out of the way now."

"Did they give you a very hard time about it?"

You shake your head, fidgeting with Brennan's fingers. "They're overprotective to an unhealthy degree, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. If it wasn't so annoying, it would almost be sweet how worried they were. What about you? How many death threats did Xay make once I was out of the room?"

Brennan chuckles. "Oh, a bunch. But they'll only take effect should I mistreat you in any way, shape, or form. Nothing to worry about. It wasn't easy to placate him, but we talked for a while about what I see in you, and I guess in the end I convinced him that this is serious."

"Good." You place your hands on his chest and give him a playful grin. "Now, where were we when those idiots interrupted us?"

Brennan pulls you against him, both hands on the small of your back. You slide yours to the back of his neck, and he presses his lips to yours.

"Right here," he mutters into the kiss. "And this time" — you feel his hand shift, followed by the sound of the lock clicking as he uses lesser magic to lock it — "no one will walk in."

[bimb0fy]

— 02; bonfire

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

warnings; smoking, SMUT, slight bondage, slight degrading, public sex, loss of virginity, raw sex (wrap your willy silly!!), rough sex, dom!luke, corruption kink if you squint, maybe, idfk atp, wrote this b4 my English speaking exam so it's shit.

summary; the weekly bonfire, a tradition for councillors like yourself, like luke, but this one, this one had a certain twist to it.

wordcount; 1.4k

masterlist!! | navigation!!

-> You walked down to the bonfire. You're brother Alex made you dress up for Luke. He could sniff something happening and usually, Alex was always correct about that.

You raised the low rise pants, the star imprints were different. Yet he wasn't overboard with the outfit, allowing you to wear white shirt instead of a tank like he originally planned.

You smiled as you found your way to the councillors bonfire, each week, you'd throw one and get wasted and high.

You plopped down beside the Apollo Councillor, smiling at her as you talked.

"Hey mender, wanna get outta here?" Luke said as he raised his hand for you to take, which you gladly accepted.

You walked to the lake, hand in hand as you walked down the path. "Wanna play a game? Like 20 questions?" Luke asked you as you gave him a confused glance.

"Why?" You asked the boy who shrugged.

"I don't know anything about you." Luke answered. You smiled and nodded as he smiled back. "Let's see, uh, what's you're favorite color?"

"Basic much." You joked as he laughed. You sat down on the dock, taking off your slippers as you dipped your legs into the water, Luke sat crossing his legs beside you as you looked at the stars. "Green."

"Green?" Luke asked as you nodded. He smiled before turning back to the sky. "Mine is red."

"Okay uh, have you ever left camp?" You asked the boy who shook his head. "Wait really?"

"I don't have a place to go back to." Luke looked at the planks, tracing the outlines as you looked away, placing a hand on his in an attempt of comfort.

"I go to my aunts sometimes, my mom she uh, she died from an illness." You muttered as Luke looked at you. You gave him a sad smile as he pulled out a cigarette box from his cargos. "Really Castellan?"

"Shut up, don't act like you don't smoke." Luke laughed as he placed the cigarette in his mouth, taking out his lighter but groaning when it doesn't light.

"Here. Let me." You said as you removed your legs from the water, shivering from the cold as you leaned in.

You snaped your fingers, a little flame exiting from your hand as you lit up the cigarette for him.

Your face close to his. His gaze steady onto your eyes. You felt butterflies in your stomach as his breath hitched.

Once the cigarette lit up, you moved back to your original position. Luke exhaled the smoke, handing you the cigarette as you placed it into your mouth.

"Shit that's a nice one." You exhaled before handing it back, only for him to shake his head, taking out another one.

He took out his lighter, lighting up the cigarette before looking out to the stars, but your thoughts were confusing you.

He didn't correct you with his sword, his lighter is clearly working. It was almost as if he knew you'd light the cigarette for him, why was he acting this way.

"Hey Luke?" You called out as the boy turned to face you, a smile on his face as he inhaled the smoke, taking out the cigarette before answering.

"Yeah mender." He smiled as you crossed your legs, facing him as he did the same. "Whats up?"

"You're lighters working." You pointed out as Luke held onto it. He glanced at it, then back at you, clearly still confused.

"And what's the issue mender?" He asked before putting the cigarette back into his mouth, you put out yours, causing him to do the same as he stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

"You didn't correct me when I was making your sword, and you knew I'd light up your cigarette if your lighter randomly stopped working, didn't you?" You asked him as Luke bit the inside of his cheek.

Luke didn't even know how to respond. He knew what you were thinking. He leaned in, taking a second to watch your reaction.

You leaned in, intchung closer as you placed you hand onto his cheek. You're noses touching as his hands snakes around your waist.

Without warning, he pushed you onto the dock, knees on both sides of your thigh as he kissed you.

You let out a groan as he grabbed your arms, clutching onto your wrists as his lips hatched to your neck.

"Luke!" You breathed out as his hands found their way under your shirt.

"Mhm." He mumbled into your neck, kissing and biting the area. You let out a groan as you pushed him off, he had a hurt expression on his face as you sat up. "Sorry."

"No no it's just. I've never been with anyone, ever." You confessed as Luke raises his eyebrows at you, seemingly shocked by your confession.

"Really? Huh I gotta say I wasn't expecting that." Luke muttered as he stared at you, smiling, yet it wasn't a smile. It was a lustful grin at most.

You'd be lying if you didn't like Luke, everyone did.

Yet, he liked you. He chose you.

"Do you wanna?" Luke asked you, a grin plastered onto his face. You were nervous obviously, and all you could think about was someone finding you out here with him.

Luke would be lying if he said that didn't turn him on. He needed you, from the moment he saw you in your pony tail, working on a random Apollo kid's arrows and god, you were breathtaking.

"Okay." You whispered as he smirked. He gave you a grin, a grin that you interpreted as a 'I'm not gonna go soft on you' grin.

He pushed you onto your stomach, rasing up your hips as he smirked. His hand traced against the burn scars along your back, raising up your shirt as he kissed your back.

He slowly slid your pants down, you underwear falling along as he groaned at the sight.

You were pure, he could tell.

"God, mender you ready?" He asked you as he palmed through his cargos. You nodded your head, he kissed your back before unbuttoning his pants.

He pulled out his cock, precum spilling onto his fist as he gave himself a few jerks before lining up with you.

One swift movement, that was all it took for his to enter.

You let out moans and mewls at the unfamiliar feeling. You could hear Luke's groans as you clenched around him.

His hips started thrusting into you, not giving you time to adjust to his side as you let out moans, the sounds of his balls hitting your ass and completely obliterating you was too loud for you're liking.

But Luke was making you feel too good.

"Luke. Oh. Oh Luke right there." You moaned as you're eyes rolled to the back of your head. Tongue out as you couldn't think anymore, simply panting at the way he was completely destroying your insides.

"Oh god you're so tight, just my personal little cocksleeve huh." He whispered as he pounded into you. You moaned as he slapped your pussy, pulling put and flipping you over.

Your arousal dripped everywhere as he changed positions, entering you once more as he watched your tits bounce at his pace.

"Fuck you're perfect babe, made for me." Luke muttered as he drilled your sobbing cunt, fully disappearing in you.

Without a second thought, your back arched as you came. He groaned as he helped you through your high, pulling put and finishing onto your stomach as you let out loud moans.

He plopped down beside you, grinning as he looked at you. "Not bad for a virgin mender."

"Shut up Castellan." You laughed as you sat up with a strained moan. Biting your lip to forget your aching cunt as you slowly put your pants back on.

"Want me to kiss it better?" Luke joked as you widened your eyes at him. "No worries. I'll do it next time."

You smiled at his sentence. Next time. He wanted to see you again.

"It's getting late, cmon, I'll walk you to your cabin." He stood up, raising his hand for you to take it, which you gladly did as he wrapped his arm around you. "So tell me, what's your dream date huh."

"So now you're gonna take me out to dinner huh? What happened to doing that first."

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruin | 2 |

Part Two [Previous part] [series masterlist]

Summary: you're a mender in the dawn court, tasked with fixing cursed and broken relics. Azriel x dawn court reader 2,546words

Two days of staring at the truth-teller and it kept repeating the same word. Lies.

The dagger rattled on the table, your older sister pacing the free space in front of you. If you didn't know any better you'd think the relic wasn't fond of her hurried speech or tone either.

"Mother above," she snapped, her hand steadying the truth-teller. "You can't even talk about it, yet you're going down there with those people."

"I think they're more than capable to go there," you said swatting her away from the table.

Truth truth, the murmurs somehow reassuring your fears. You wondered what other energy surrounded the dagger, the thought pulling you to pick it up. The hilt warm against your skin, surprisingly light and it moulded to the curve of your palm as if it were meant to be.

Your sisters words were muffled, the sharp blade drawing your attention. The hold it had on you, intense. A dull twinge pierced your chest and you recognised the aching tug of longing. You'd felt it under the mountain, the burning desire to feel the sun upon your face and breeze washing over you.

A gloved hand circled your wrist and you gasped, truth-teller clinking to the table. Blinking back the blurry vision, shadows swarmed around you, the wind tracing your cheek. The hold on your wrist acted like an anchor, firm but light as you calmed your racing heart.

"Hello," a low, smooth voice spoke beside you. If there wasn't a weight clutching you, you'd think it was the shadows speaking.

Just like the truth-teller, it's owner seemed to tug and draw you in. His touch oddly welcome and familiar, it had been years since you'd allowed someone so close. You stared up at him, hazel eyes focused on your sister.

You slipped out of his grasp and stepped back, your hand shooing the wisps of darkness. Of course he'd look at your sister, so much light and love.

Lies, lies.

The difference was startling as Lena, your sister stood in the golden light of the sun. Her bronzed skin held a warmth you denied yourself, keeping yourself in your studio. Hair that reminded you of rising sun, long and swishing halfway down her back. You on the other hand had chopped your hair off as soon as you were free from under the mountain.

As Lena spoke to the Illyrian, you took the opportunity to study him. He's quiet, but his gaze focused on Lena's as he listened to her rambling on. His gloved hands tucked behind him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he knows you are admiring him.

He didn't say a word to your sister, but she's leaning closer and smiling up at him as if he's inviting her. Maybe that's why you feel a pull towards him, he's magnetic and drawing anyone in.

Lies, Lies.

Lena placed her palm on his arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." She'd been weaving through the court, denying her hand in marriage until she either met her mate or someone with high nobility.

You couldn't help but feel the burn, brows furrowing at your sister and the smooth action, something you'd never dare to do.

"Azriel," he said, stepping back and bowing his head slightly.

His gaze met yours and you looked away, finger following the woods grain of the table. The relics hoarding your studio were quiet, truth-teller the only one seeking your energy. The silence all too consuming, your thoughts flowing freely. Multiple energies were dulled since the dagger had been left in your possession, commanding you to face your mind or maybe your own truths.

Bidding your goodbyes to your sister, eyes trailing after her to make sure she left. As you turned back to your desk, you flinched away from the shadows. You hadn't realised how close he was, didn't hear him approach your workstation.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, regretting the harsh tone of your voice.

Azriel picked up his dagger, turning the blade over and inspecting it. His shadows snaked around his gloved hand and to the scripture on the hilt as if reading it aloud. "Just wanted to see if you'd familiarised yourself with the energy."

Lies,lies.

He tensed, wings twitching briefly, but you caught it. Could the truth-teller speak to him too? Truth, truth

"You lie." The words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

His brow arched, "so you have familiarised yourself. Truth-teller rarely calls or speaks to others, you must be special." You didn't say how his energy matched, how you felt the same tug to him. A reason you couldn't hold his gaze, didn't want to get lost in the possibilities of your emotions.

You shrugged, "I'm not, just merely open to an objects energy and have a well trained ear to seek them out." The one advantage of rotting under the mountain meant you could hone your mending abilities, not that you had any choice. Fifty years tethered to cursed objects and magical relics, haunted by touch alone.

"And what do the other relics tell you right now?" Azriel asked, once again distracting you from your thoughts and memories.

The energy you used to seek comfort in was nothing but a withering buzz. Even the cursed relics usual shrieking, underwhelming. “Truth-teller calls above them all, draws me in as if it’s the only thing that matters.”

Two sides of the same blade.

The boundary of the dawn court and the beginning of the middle was somewhere you vowed never to step over again. You glanced over your shoulder at the rising sun, as if you’d never see it again for another fifty years.

Your body moved on memory alone, legs carrying you through the large stones entrance hidden beneath the weaving branches of trees. All source of natural light vanished as you stepped over the threshold. Your boots squelched in the trickling water that ran down the caves wall.

A small ball of light floated in front of you, but you were the one guiding them through the maze of passageways. Your head tilted to the side, pointed ears straining to hear of anything beyond your path.

Under the mountain was a place no one had mapped out completely. This entrance however led to the least desirable section. Not intricately carved out like the main area or the throne room. Granted, you’d never been out of this quarter, only three times had you walked the narrow passageways. You’d always remember though, your memory being something you trained as well as your mending skills.

No one had uttered a single word, afraid to hear your voice echoing back to you or summoning something from the depths of the darkness.

As you rounded the corner, your steps faltered. The familiar dingy hallway, doors lining each side. It felt just like before, the deep rooted knot in your stomach twisting. You expected to be shoved forward, but a light touch pressed against your lower back and you leant into the warmth.

“Rhys will go in if you cannot face it.” Azriels whispered breath fanned against the shell of your ear. You’d gone over the plan with them over a hundred times, each time Azriel had reassured you that you were not alone. That you did not have to do anything you were not comfortable with.

You shook your head, retreating from his touch and away from the warmth. Seven doors down, you stopped outside and glanced to the one opposite, the one that still haunted you at night.

“This is the relic room, I will check the other.” Your hand hovered over the broken chain, the ward spelled over the wooden panel zapping your fingertip. Thesan had warded the room so that no one could steal the relics, Rhys learnt how to break and remake it from entering his mind.

Rhys nodded, “we’ll meet back out here, try to keep it quiet. Don’t want to wake anything lurking,” he said, his magic making easy work of dropping the ward. The energy of the spell fell like a sheet of liquid gold, particles disappearing into the gravel.

Halfway through the door opposite you paused, “oh, stick to the shadows and if you hear screaming do not follow the light. Stay in the darkness and do nothing.”

The floating light whizzed past you into the room, it followed your gaze and lit up the areas you searched. You took the gloves from your pocket and shoved them on, the one thing they never allowed you under the mountain.

Touch meant more to menders than any other fae. It being both creation and destruction. Normal fae were more inclined to destroy something they did not understand, whereas you studied and mended. Just couldn’t mend all the destruction they’d done to you.

You tried not to remember this room, the contents still exactly how it had been when you’d last been there. The bed unmade, desk strewn with papers and his messy cursive writing. He’d always have ink staining the side of his fingers, sometimes it’d transfer to your jaw or cheek.

“This was your room?” Azriel asked, sifting through the papers on the desk. His hazel eyes glistening in the dull light as he glanced to you.

Those eyes, you couldn’t quite hold for longer than second. “No, this is someone else’s.” You dropped to your knees and pressed your cheek to the ground, arm sweeping underneath the bed. A small silver box scraped towards you, lock sealed shut.

You didn’t miss the scrunch of Azriel’s brow or the burning gaze that trailed your movements. It’s like he’s in a trance, that or he’s trying to figure you out in a room that isn’t, wasn’t yours. You removed your gloves, the leather too stiff, the constant squeak unbearable in the silence.

He sidestepped you as soon as your hands traced the side of the desk and opened the drawer. Vials of ink rolled to the front, a set of keys jingling on a metal ring. You took the keys, knowing what each one was for.

“I have what I need, let’s go to the relic room,” you said, glancing over your shoulder one last time before you leave the room for good.

Azriel’s hand hovered behind you, but you can feel the warmth and energy alone without his touch. It calms your racing heart and gives you the strength to the meet the relics again.

Cassian’s gaze flicked from the box in your grasp and to Azriel who remained close to you. Rhys staring at the hoards of relics, eyes glazed as he tried to listen for the murmurs of the desired object.

Dark wisps tumbled over your shoulder and twisted around one another as they travelled towards a glimmering spec of light. You would have missed it, if it wasn't for the pesky shadows whirling around the hilt.

The moment your gaze latched onto the relic, a high screech tore through the room and you dropped the box, silver slipping through your fingers. You heard the echo of voices, they merged with the swords energy as if they were connected.

"We've got company."

Azriel spoke, but as you turned to look at him you were met with nothing but shadows. Rhys vanished in a blink of an eye, Cassian crossing the space between you. He balanced a small dagger, blade between his fingers waiting for you to take it. You shook your head and picked the small silver box from the floor.

You grabbed his wrist, "stay in the shadows, don't go to the light." The lock clicked open with the turn of the key, you hesitated with the clasp, steadying your breath for what was to come.

Before you could open the box, Azriel's heavy hand slammed into yours keeping the lid closed. "Together," he said, giving you a slight nod, keeping his promise of not doing anything alone. His shadows swarmed around the two of you, those Illyrian wings curling in as you opened the lid.

You did not know, nor did you ask what spirit lived within the box. Only knew that when you closed it again, you would summon it back to its dwelling it was contained to.

A grey mist snaked out of the top and dove towards the remaining light through the gap between Azriel's wings. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps rippling your bare arms. An icy cool breeze hung in the spirits wake, but it seemed to drag Azriel's shadows with it.

The darkness cloaking Azriel and you faded, his grasp on your hand loosening. "Go, help your friends," you whispered. You don't know what possessed you, but your finger smoothed the line of tension settled on his forehead. Blue ink stained his forehead, your fingertips painted the same colour.

"Autumn guards are here, the darkness devours them," he said, more to himself than you. The screams in the passageway filtered through to the relics room, high pitched shrieks tugging at Azriel like his shadows were trying to draw him out to the destruction.

He moved as quick as the shadows, the floating ball of light flaring in front of you. You saw the darkness shift, felt the breeze knock you back a few steps.

Stumbling back, you crashed into a firm chest. Scorching heat enveloped around you, burning touch forcing your hands to close the lid before the spirit devoured your light. You leant into the embrace, eye's closing as you savoured the thousand sparks of energy spreading like wildfire through your body.

"Do not touch her," Cassian spat.

You opened your eyes, the three Illyrian's scowling at the one behind you. The one you knew so well, the one that knew you too well. He let go and you turned to face him.

"Vanserra," you whispered. Eris Vanserra smirked down at you, his hand picking yours up. Ink smudging his fingers, he glanced between your stained hands and the blue smeared across Azriel's forehead.

"It's good to see you," Eris crooned, lifting your chin with his ink splotched hand. "My little mender."

You hated the way your body betrayed you, the mark on your chest burning at his silent command. The tethered bond coaxing you to lean into his touch, despite the stinging burn. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the shadow-singer or his friends, but you knew from his silence that whatever he thought of you before, was nothing now. Why did it bother you so much though?

Before your lips could touch Eris's, he'd winnowed you away in a blur.

[Part three]

taglist: @rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97

I'm already writing the next part, sorry for the long wait between the first part...I was sick so only just getting back to writing now -Yiiyii

[tearsaura]

Didn’t go as planned // Brennan Sorrengail x reader

A/N: based on this request. Hope you enjoy it! It kind of turned into a blurb

Word count: 693

Warnings: mentions of blood

Picture is from Pinterest: horevapolina2

‘My love, as much as seeing you makes my day better, I don’t want you as a patient’ Y/N sighed as she spotted Brennan sitting up on one of the patient beds, one hand holding a bloodied cloth to his nose, but the glint in his eyes suggested that he was grinning beneath said cloth.

Y/N stopped in front of him and took the cloth from his hand. She felt his nose carefully, her eyebrows furrowed as she wore that look of concentration that Brennan loved so much.

Breaking his nose had its advantages.

'Hmm... it's slightly broken. It would still take a few weeks for it to heal on its own. You can't avoid healing yourself, but you surely knew that before you came to me.’ She said with a teasing smile that he returned.

‘Yeah, Mira’s punch is half as mean as she likes to claim it, but I wanted to see you.’ He replied and Y/N’s grin grew even wider. She sat down next to him and squeezed his hand.

‘You don’t need to break your nose to see me. I can give you something to stop the blood. The family reunion didn’t go as well as you hoped.’ Brennan sighed.

‘I knew she would be mad. She has every right to do so. And the fact that she broke my nose has something familiar about it. Feels like being sixteen again' she burst out laughing, which he joined in.

‘It’s a shock for them. She's certainly happier than she's showing right now.' He nodded and pulled her closer to him by her hand until her face was just a few inches from his.

‘You know what will help me heal? A kiss’ ‘Oh really. I’ve never learned that during my training.’

'Well they probably wanted to keep some things to themselves to create a power imbalance. But I need a lot of energy to heal myself and the best resource for energy is a kiss from you,” he replied. ‘Mmhkay but let me clean your face first and stop your bleeding, you’re covered in blood.’ Brennan picked up the cloth again and wiped his face roughly, hissing when it caught his nose.

'There. Clean. Now I want my kiss.’ Y/N rolled her eyes but obeyed him. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and gently placed her lips on his. Brennan smiled into the kiss and buried his hands in her hair.

Their moment alone got interrupted by the sound of the door, and both turned their heads towards the door.

His sister Mira walked in, closely followed by Violet. The two of them froze when they saw their brother. Mira raised her eyebrows and Violet grinned. Y/N wanted to pull away from Brennan, but he continued to hold her close and sat up straighter.

‘Well, that's not how I imagined I'd introduce you to each other, but it is what it is. Violet, Mira, this is Y/N, my girlfriend’.

‘It’s nice to finally meet you,’ Y/N said with a shy smile, and Brennan could kiss her again because of that.

Violet smiled back, but Mira’s facial expression remained unchanged, her eyes fixed on Brennan.

‘Don’t you want to say something?’ Brennan asked his sister.

‘The Mender goes to the healer? Really?’ she asked, and Y/N busted out laughing.

‘Right?!’ she said amidst her laughter, infecting Violet with it. Even Mira smiled.

‘I wanted to get a professional’s opinion!’ ‘Well, I suspect you just want to see the healer,’ Violet teased, sitting down on the bed next to Y/N.

'I'm not commenting on that,' Brennan countered. Mira strolled over to the other side of his bed and plopped down on it. She turned to Y/N: 'Is this the moment we tell you embarrassing childhood stories?' 'I've been waiting too long for this' his girlfriend said and turned completely to her. Brennan groaned.

He leaned back and even though his sister completely embarrassing him in front of his love, he felt more at home than ever before.

The three most important women in his life were here with him, safe and he will do everything to keep it that way.

[callsign-rogueone]

the twins

Brennan Sorrengail x f!reader (Duchess!) words: 1.7k 🏷: just some little scraps I have of Bren and Duchess before the arrival of their sweet twin mini Brennan’s. set in the happily ever after that we are absolutely going to get in book 5 or beyond. mentions of pregnancy, and the boys being born a little early. it’s implied that there were complications with the birth in the last scene, but it’s not described in detail or shown at all. and Brennan came to the rescue, like always 🧡

“What is up with you guys today? Do I smell like sheep or something?” you ask as another dragon comes up to sniff you, the fourth this morning.

“No,” the green swordtail answers, sounding amused. “Not that.”

“Then what?”

“I believe you humans call it being with child,” another says slyly.

“What?”

This shouldn’t be a surprise to you, given the frequency with which you and Brennan have been… trying, but you definitely weren’t expecting to hear it now, from the riot.

“You’ve been mated for five years now. It was about time, considering how short you humans’ lives are.”

Are they really calling you old right now?

“Congratulations,” Ban says warmly, sounding like she’s known for a while now. “The mender will be pleased.”

He definitely will be, considering that this whole thing had been his idea, that he’d been the one to sweet-talk you into it, to stop taking the tonic and let nature run its course. But how are you going to tell him, and when? What does this mean for your roles in Tyrrendor’s army and in caring for the riot?

“I was wondering where you were.”

You jolt in surprise, your heart jumping, and the tiny shock has one of the dragons stepping forward, ready to defend you. 

“He’s her mate, you imbecile.”

“Oh.”

You laugh, pulling Brennan into an embrace. “Hi, love.”

“They’re in rare form today,” he says, still eyeing some of them with apprehension.

“Rare indeed,” you agree quietly. 

His forehead creases, that cute look of confusion on his face. “Why are you looking like me at that?”

You won’t tell him now, even though you want to — you’ll have the healers confirm it first. Not that you don’t trust the riot, of course, you add down the bond. But they’d be able to better guess how far along you are, and if you’re progressing healthily.

“Can’t a woman admire her husband?” you ask, bringing a hand up to rest over his heart. 

There’s another look you know and love — his eyebrows raise, a sly smile curving his lips. “She can.”

“After the meeting,” you answer before he can ask. “I couldn’t look Xaden in the eye for days after we were late to the last one.”

“After the meeting,” he agrees, putting a hand on top of yours. There’s a barely-audible hum as your rings come into contact, the connection runes in them satisfied with your proximity. 

You don’t plan on leaving his side any time soon — and he likely won’t want you to, either. He’d likely become so much more protective, knowing the news. You're honestly a little excited to see what he'll be like, the extra care he'd take of you...

You’ll see the healers tomorrow, you decide, while he’s busy researching with Violet. Today, you’ll just go about your day, content to keep your secret. 

—————————

Now seems as good a time as ever — it’s the end of the day, your work set aside for the evening in favor of finally resting, taking the time to unwind. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to be done brushing your teeth and doing your skincare, so he can wrap you up in his arms and keep you there all night, where nothing and no one can hurt you. 

You move to stand in front of him, tilting his head up with a gentle hand on his jaw. He nuzzles his cheek into your palm, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes fall closed.

“You’re going to be such an excellent father, my love,” you say softly, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone.

He smiles, but he looks like he doesn’t quite follow, he isn’t sure why you’re bringing this up now — and then his eyes snap open in realization. “Wait, really?”

You can’t keep the grin off your face. “Really.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly, but not too tightly, laying his head over your heart. You bring a hand up, idly working your fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck. "If it's a boy, I hope he looks just like his daddy," you say quietly.

He pulls back, making you giggle at the insulted look on his face. "Are you saying that you chose me for my looks?"

"Not just for your looks," you answer, "but they definitely helped."

You squeak as the hands he's had resting on your back move to your waist, tickling the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. "Not fair!"

He scoops you up with an arm under your knees, settling you into his lap. "All is fair in love and war."

You lean forward, still a little breathless, your nose brushing his. "I suppose so."

"Now," he murmurs, "if you'll let me, I'd like to thank you properly."

—————————

You rub your hands across your face, shaking your head to clear it. “What were you saying?”

He’s still looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. “You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.

You look up at him, still not quite all there.

“I mean it, my love, you’re stunning. Walking around in that uniform, carrying my baby,” he breathes, settling his hands on your hips and pulling you forward ever-so-gently. His thumbs stroke over the material of your flight pants, toward your stomach.

You are quite the sight. The sleek black uniform has your shared name stitched onto it — no longer Aisereigh, but Sorrengail now, since you’d both come out of hiding in Aretia — and you’ve got that glow to you that people always talk about, your skin bright and clear, hair soft and shiny, lose from its usual intricate updo, instead tied back by a scrap of silk ribbon. 

“Smell divine, too,” he adds, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, his beard tickling the skin.

You giggle. “Who’s the hormonal one now?”

“Can’t help it,” he says between kisses. “Gods, I want to keep you like this forever. My gorgeous wife, my Duchess, mother of my children…”

“Children, plural?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” he replies, entirely serious. “Two more to go after this.”

“Two more?” you echo, laughing. “You want three?”

“Or as many as you’ll give me,” he says with a sly smile. “But three would be perfect.”

You raise your eyebrows in challenge. “Oh, yeah? The commander in chief of Tyrrendor’s army is going to be leading assembly meetings with a toddler on each knee?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, and you know he means it. “They’re coming with me everywhere.”

—————

“Bren?” you murmur, reaching across the mattress for him.

“Right here, my love,” he soothes, taking your hand and gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “you’re okay, and so are our boys.”

You blink, processing his words. The last thing you remember was him carrying you down here, and all the blood… how long ago was that? How does he know you’re having boys?

It hurts his heart to see the look on your face, the sleepy confusion he’s seen in so many patients as a consequence of the sedation, combined with the delicate condition you’d been in from the blood loss.

There’s a soft cry from across the room, and that seems to snap you out of your haze— motherly instinct, maybe. You push through the fog to sit up, looking toward the sound.

“Easy,” he soothes, helping prop you up with a pillow behind your back.

The babe settles as soon as he’s held in his father’s arms, not minding the delicate movement of Brennan laying him down on your chest.

You’ve never held anything this carefully in your life, never seen a baby this tiny. That stands to reason — the pair of them had been born nearly a month early.

You can already tell both of them going to look exactly like Brennan, with their slight dustings of auburn hair and the shape of their noses. They probably have his eyes, too, but they’re shut, resting.

“Hi my loves,” you whisper down to them, in awe. “Oh, they’re perfect.”

“They are,” he agrees quietly, settling down on the edge of the bed beside you, the other twin in his arms.

Yours makes a soft sound like a yawn, a tiny hand moving to rest over your heart.

There’s a moment of quiet, guilt starting to seep through the cracks. “How long has it been?” You ask in a whisper.

He glances up at the clock. “About eight hours since I brought you downstairs.”

That makes this close to midnight. When had they been born? How long had it taken you to wake up?

“I don’t remember any of it,” you say quietly. “I should remember my own children being born, but it feels like it was all a dream that I’ve already forgotten.”

You lay a hand on your stomach, realizing you’ve already been mended back to normal, leaving no sign of your body ever having held your children. You feel… hollow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, “I don’t want you to blame yourself for a second. You did everything right. You carried them and helped them grow for eight months, and they’re perfectly healthy. The healers and I chose to do what was safest for the three of you.”

You nod, closing your eyes to fight back the tears and resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “I know.”

There’s another moment of comfortable quiet, the four of you relaxing into each other’s embraces.

You still need to name them, you realize. “Naolin and Asher,” you say quietly, looking up at your husband. “For the two men that gave you life.”

He leans forward, still carefully cradling his twin, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Naolin Liam and Asher Xaden. For your brothers.”

“I like that,” you say softly. “I like that a lot.”

“The question is, which one is which,” he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile. “I have a feeling that’s going to be the question for the rest of our days, my love.”