#// with a nod towards dawn too :3

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[rhysazriel]

Kinktober Day 3: Toys

A/N: I was considering making it a Modern AU but I had an idea for this one and just went with it hehe. 18+ only!! Includes sexual themes and use of sex toys!!

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Strong arms snaked around your middle, disturbing your thoughts as you stirred the soup. A head rested atop you shoulder, a familiar sense of curls tickling the side of your face.

He brought his lips to your ear, soft and gentle as they caressed the skin in a ghost of a kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”

You tried to fight the fluttering of your lashes at the sound of his voice—deep and sultry—the voice he used too often in attempts to sway you to the bedroom.

“Oh?” You swallowed, resuming the stirring. “What’s the occasion?”

Azriel nipped at your earlobe, moving lower to flatten his tongue against the ridge of your jaw. “No occasion, I just have a gift for you...seeing as I’m being sent away on another mission at dawn.”

A discontented sigh slipped your lips at the reminder. It was becoming an issue; how often Rhys was sending your mate away. Az would be sent away for a week, return for a short thirty-six hours, before leaving again for another four to five days.

You understood his job, his duties. But nothing prepared you for these random spurts of hardly seeing your lover. During most of his missions, Azriel would have to close off the bond between you both. You’d be left alone, empty. Missing him and having no way to communicate.

It made you bitter. You wondered how Rhys and Feyre would cope if the roles were reversed for a month.

“So an apology gift?”

Azriel chuckled softly into the nape of your neck. “It’s a gift that benefits the both of us.” He reached a hand toward the stove, shutting off the flame and prying your fingers from the ladle.

He lifted you to sit on the counter, standing between your parted legs. You smiled at his frame still towering over you. He retrieved a slender box from within the shadows, lifting it between your bodies.

Hesitantly, you removed the lid, blue tissue paper now hiding your gift. Azriel held his breath as you moved it out of the way, watching as your eyes widened and pupils dilated.

"Azzy..." You took the toy in, fingers grazing down the feigned veins of the shaft.

Azriel hissed. "I had it magically made," he explained, his hand reaching for your face. "It's a replica of... well, mine. It's enchanted, too. Whatever you do to it... I will feel it."

Your eyes were glued to the toy–the toy that looked exactly like Azriel's cock. It's colouring the same shade, the veins in the same places. The length and width just as delicious as the real thing.

"So...you want me to use this on myself? When you're gone on missions?"

He nodded his head, his thumb stroking against your cheek. "We can talk through the bond... but on those long missions, I'll still be able to feel you and make you feel good."

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "Can we try it?" You look up at him. "Can you use it on me now? Show me what to do."

The darkness in his eyes exploded, his grip on your neck tightening.

Azriel grabbed the cock from the gift box, his eyes closing a the sensation he could feel in his boxers. He lowered it between your thighs, slinking his hand up your dress.

"I can smell how soaked you are, sweetheart. Is this exciting you?"

You nodded pathetically, spreading your thighs wider. The cotton of your underwear clung to you like a second skin, the wetness seeping through the fabric.

One of Azriel's shadows darted to your cunt, tugging your ruined panties to the side to give its master access. Azriel ran the tip of the cock through your folds, a shaky breath leaving his lips as a whimper left yours.

"I can feel how soaked you are." He kept his eyes on you, but you understood. His cock was bloating in his pants, he could feel you there, enticing him in.

"I'm gonna fuck you with this toy and then I'll fuck you with the real thing."

[chaepink]

(re-sent) hello dear! i just found your account and i adore your content, i don't usually bump into writers with preferences for femdom!readers and i'm here for it! keep it up ‹3

could i bother you requesting a drabble/oneshot for fem!softdom!reader x sub!tenya iida? in which reader decides to go to tenya's dorm just to find him enjoying some alone time (since he missed reader so much), he thinks they're going to get intimate, but reader tells him to continue as she watches (ocassionaly kissing his cheeks/earlobe and marking his neck). iida might get a little too desperate for touch so he starts begging for a hand or two for help, he can't do it without her. (reader calls tenya: "baby", "hun", "iida". tenya calls reader "baby", "darling") plus: he's a soft moaner ‹3

i hope this isn't too much! no hurries in writting this, i hope you have a nice day/night! —♡ (i made a few subtle changes, i hope you don't mind!)

Your Own Private Show | sub!iida tenya

wc: 740+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, masturbation, begging, pet names, marking

note : i am SO sorry that this took so long, it got lost in my drafts 😭

"ah!- f-fuck.. [name] please!" You and your hand hovering over the doorknob freezes. Is iida?...

Your heartbeat quickens as the noises keep flooding your ears from iida's room. Whines, sobs, pleas. He adds your name to each and every single one of them. He's begging for you.

With bated breath, you quietly and slowly open the door and holy shit was you not ready for the view on the other side of the door. As if he is posing for a portrait, his head is thrown back, his cheeks are flushed, and his body is exposed as he sits on the bed. His legs are spread almost as if he was used to it. And well, he rather is.

He looks absolutely breathtaking.

And well, the thing that takes your breath away the most is the thing right between his legs.

His cock was red and there was a little pre-cum on the tip. Iida's hand was rapidly stroking it and it looked absolutely sinful.

You can't help but walk in, attracting your boyfriend's attention. He whines as you continue to stare at him, his hand stopping.

"p-please..." You raise an eyebrow.

"Please what? Please help you with your little problem?" He whimpers at you. "Aw," you say with a feign pout, "is my iida all hard and horny?"

Iida shivers at how possessive you sound as you say the word 'my'. He nods as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to help him.

You walk over to him, making sure to take your very time. You stop right in front of him, eyeing him up and him. Iida's breath hitches as you duck down towards his ear. Your hot breath makes him shiver and he lets out another whine.

"How about you put on a little show for me first, baby?"

Iida's freezes and as realization dawns on him that you won't be touching him anytime soon, he pouts at you. He reaches to try to grab your hand but you manage to dodge his grasp. He lets out a yearning whine.

You shush him with a finger to his mouth, silencing him. He stares at you with pleading eyes, his hand still wrapped around his dick.

You lean towards his neck, slowly biting and sucking on it. Iida lets out a soft moan when you bite down rather harshly, making sure it'll bruise for a few days.

His body trembles as you continue to suck and lick his neck, leaving a trail of marks.

With a hand placed on his hips, you begin touching his body all over but making sure to avoid his dick and other sensitive parts.

"Go on, Iida. Touch yourself." Iida hesitates a little but starts to slowly touch his dick. Even though he's embarrassed to do this in front of you, the pleasure pushes away that thought and he begins to shamelessly bucking his hips into his hand.

Little 'ah's and 'please's fill the room along with his whines and pleas for you to touch him.

"T-Touch me, darling. P-Please!" You chuckle a little.

"But i'm already touching you, darling. Or is it here you want me to touch?" You raise an eyebrow at him as you point towards his aching dick. He nods frantically at you and you coo at him. He continues fucking into his fist but you start to see tears well up in his eyes.

One of your hands goes to touch his dick and Iida lets out a whine. It doesn't take long until iida is begging you to cum with moans and whines that follow after. Your hand replaces his hand on his dick as Iida's hips begin to jerk into your hand, desperate to chase after his release.

After a while without you, he feels as if his orgasm is coming quicker than usual and before he could warn you, he cums all over his chest and your hand.

Eyes wide and chest heaving, iida flushes red at how quick he came but when you continue to pump his dick, he gasps.

"Baby w-wait." His shaky hands try to push your hand off his dick but it doesn't budge. Rather, you just speed up your movements.

"You wanted me to touch you, right?" You give him a grin that makes Iida's dick twitch and a whimper to leave him. "Well be a good boy and sit still for me, I'm not done yet."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[adascore]

One For The Money, Two For The Show

pairings: lionesses x captain!reader

warnings: swearing. england’s captain gets a red card for the very first time, and it doesn’t go down well with the team.

author’s note: first time writing for the woso community lol :) anyway, hope you guys like it !!

•••••••

''I went for the ball! You have eyes, right?''

The referee gave her a look, the same one a disappointed parent would give their child after letting out a swear word. ''Keep it clean, you know better.''

The England captain had raised an eyebrow at that last bit of the sentence, the officials usually not keeping her experience as a player in mind. Y/N just gave her a mindless nod, the yellow card was given- no need to fight it anymore.

''Clearly not a foul.'' Georgia said to her teammate, sticking out her hand for a subtle high-five.

Y/N chuckled at the midfielder’s words. ''Don’t worry about it, G.'' She slapped her hand, jogging back to her position.

The game continued, more yellow cards having been handed out to both the English and Scottish players. The referee’s patience seemed to have run out by some weird, unknown reason that none of the players had worked out.

Despite this, Y/N wasn’t too worried about her own yellow card. She’s had them plenty of times in the past, for the right and wrong reasons, so she was practically chilling on the pitch as her team led the match 3-0.

However, this changed as Hempo received her first card of the night.

She and the Manchester City player had a great friendship. Lauren joined the squad at a young age, and Y/N knew how hard it could be as the youngest of the team, so she took her under her wing. The younger one had been immensely grateful for the striker’s support, finding a role-model and older sister figure in her.

The captain hadn’t seen what had caused the referee to lift up the yellow card towards the winger, so she separated from the players as they were waiting on a corner, and walked over to the official.

''Why did you give her a yellow card?''

For some reason, the question was too much for the woman in the neon clothing, and without any words, she pulled the same card she had given out seconds ago and held it up high.

Realization dawned on her, the outcome of two yellow cards was one of the easiest rules in football.

Y/N didn’t even see the red card being brought out, her heart dropping to her stomach working as a distraction to her surroundings.

''No, no, no- what did I even do?'' As soon as the gears in her head started going again, her mouth started speaking.

The referee didn’t answer her question, simply letting out a deep breath as she could see the sea of Lionesses running up to her. ''Fucking hell, she didn’t even do anything!'' Rachel yelled, a big frown on her face as she fought her way to the front.

While a large number of her teammates argued back-and-forth with the referee, Millie and Alex brought their younger captain into their arms.

''It’s okay, don’t worry~'' They chorused, repeating the words over and over again, seeing the distress on their teammate’s face.

''I just asked her a question! I swear, it was just a question!'' Y/N defended herself, rambling almost.

''We know, we believe you, don’t worry about it.'' Alex assured her, feeling sad as she watched the captain’s distress unfold.

The referee tried getting closer, urging Y/N to get off the pitch. ''You have to get off now, Y/L!''

''Why are you giving me a fucking red card? I just asked you why Hempo got a yellow! What, we can’t ask questions now?'' She was going through all the stages, anger taking over as she pulled herself out of Millie and Alex’s embrace, stomping over to the referee.

''It was the tone, Y/N.'' She answered, although she didn’t seem too sure herself.

The striker’s eyes widened. ''What tone?! I asked you a simple question!'' She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

''You’re going to give red cards for questions now?!'' Ella spoke up, her voice booming above those of the others.

''Y/N, get off the pitch now, you’ve wasted enough time now.''

The captain had an uncharacteristic, defeated look on her face. She was about to take off her captain band, but a hand stopped her. ''No, you’re not going anywhere.'' Millie grabbed her arm, and gently dragged her behind herself, so the Chelsea player worked as a human shield between the referee and her teammate.

Y/N was touched by her team’s protectiveness. As the captain, she was often the one to stick up for others or argue with the officials a little longer than necessary if it pertained members of her squad. The fact that the center forward had never received a red card in her professional career, must have been an extra factor. She wasn’t a clean player, per say, but she knew how to toy with the boundaries of the game, and her great argumentative skills greatly helped in avoiding being booked.

''You alright?'' Lucy asked, pulling her further away from the chaos.

''I got a fucking red card, Luce! No! I am not okay!'' She let out, the older woman instinctively caressing her back at the visible frustration. ''You’re good, it’s alright.''

''It’s not- oh, fuck sake.'' Y/N swore, glancing away from Lucy to her teammates still fighting her red card with the referee.

LJ joined them, watching the chaos unfold. ''I turn around for one second, and suddenly everyone is running towards the ref.'' Lauren said, her indifferent tone making Lucy chuckle.

''The boss got a red.'' The Barcelona defender explained.

The youngest James sibling's eyes widened. "What? You?" She pointed at the captain, who nodded, unamused.

Y/N could see the official signaling for her to come closer, ignoring the arguments the Lionesses were giving her. ''You have to get off now, this is becoming a hazard. I’m not going to change my decision.'' She said, matter-of-fact.

It was evident that whatever the captain would tell her, would fall on deaf ears. ''Whatever, you’re fucking miserable.'' She looked her in the eyes as the insult was spoken, not an ounce in her mind or body caring about the consequences of it.

The truth was that she was the miserable one. It might have been naive of her to think she could go her entire career without receiving a red card, but she didn’t expect today to be the day.

She walked over to Millie, taking the captain's band off and handing it over, without saying anything further.

The rest of the English squad watched with sad eyes, and disheartened feelings as their captain, and arguably most important player, walked off the pitch with still double digits in game time left.

Sarina had jumped out of her seat the minute the referee pulled the second yellow card out of her pocket, infuriated over one of her key (and personal favorite) players being expelled from the game over something silly as asking why her teammate was being booked.

As Y/N passed her to go inside the tunnel, the Dutchwoman grabbed her hand, her eyes still on the game. ''We’ll talk, okay?'' Sarina didn’t expect an answer back, having worked with the player long enough to know she would want to chat with her about it.

It was a despairing sight to see the world-class player stroll all alone to the changing room, her usual confident aura replaced for hung shoulders, and eyes that told the entire world what she thought of herself.

Disappointing.

That was the best word she could come up with to summarize her feelings; disappointed in herself, disappointed in the officials, but above all, she felt like she had disappointed her team and staff- and as the captain, that was something hard to swallow.

She sat alone in the changing room- members of the staff figuring she wanted to be left on her own.

That changed as the door opened.

Keira had been subbed off a few minutes before the incident had happened, Katie taking her place on the midfield. She, along with the entire bench, had a hard time believing what was happening in front of them.

A bad feeling settled in her as Y/N walked off the pitch all by herself, not a single soul following her. Therefore, the Barcelona player excused herself and trailed their captain.

''You mind?'' She already knew the answer, but asking didn’t hurt.

Y/N shook her head, motioning for Keira to take the spot next to her. ''You? Never.''

''How you feeling?''

''Like shit.''

''Yeah, I predicted that.''

The striker chuckled at the monotone voice, feeling some sort of delight after what felt like forever. ''I’m so confused.''

''You’re not the only one. I didn’t hear what you said, but it couldn’t have been that bad for you to get another yellow- and don’t even get me started on the first one, obviously not a foul.'' Keira rambled, yet sounding sophisticated.

''I just- I feel like I let everyone down. I know we’re leading the game, but still- I should be out there playing. I’m the captain for fuck sake.'' Y/N swung her arm towards the door, before letting it fall on her knee with a hard slap.

Keira sighed at her words. ''You’re always so hard on yourself. No one is angry at you or disappointed.''

''I’m not hard on myself, Kei. I just have an important role in this team, so I can’t afford to make mistakes.'' The captain clarified, although it didn’t do much to dispute the midfielder’s words.

''Yeah, that sounds like someone who is not a perfectionist.'' The sarcastic tone didn’t escape Y/N, and she bumped their shoulders. ''No, but, come one. You know what I mean- not only do I have to keep the entire team together, I also have to score goals or make sure that someone else scores them.''

It was the first time she had truly expressed the pressure that was being put on her, she was known in the team for keeping it all to herself. Keira attentively listened, feeling almost honored it was her that the captain was venting to.

''I like the pressure, though. I know I can handle it, I’ve been doing that for years, I know I was only made captain cause Steph got injured, but it’s still a huge deal to me, you know? I know I don’t always say it, but it really does.''

''We know it does. You might not say it, but it shows. You’re the best captain I’ve ever got to work with, you have a way of getting everyone together.'' Keira interjected, complimenting her leadership skills.

Y/N raised her eyebrows at the praise. ''Best captain, huh? So better than Alexia?'' She mentioned the captain at Barcelona.

Keira lightly slapped her arm. ''Yeah, you like that, huh? Don’t tell her that, though.''

''You know I’ll tell her as soon as I get the chance.'' Of course the England captain wouldn’t mention it, but making her friend think that didn’t hurt.

''If that makes you smile, then I’ll take it.''

''You’re flattering me, Kei.'' Y/N muttered, not quite believing the praise that was coming out of her mouth.

The midfielder scoffed. ''Hey! I’m being genuine!'' She exclaimed, almost offended. ''Don’t let this one game affect your confidence. I know you like everything perfect, but these kinds of things are out of our hands,'' she referred to the referee’s decisions, ''you’re still the boss, you know? Or what did they say after the Euro’s… you’re an icon.''

The captain gave Keira a little shake at the mention of the compliment she had been given by a reporter after the final at Wembley, embarrassed by being called iconic. ''Oh, shut it, you!''

''It’s true, though! It stings right now, but you’ll get over it. By the time the next game comes around, no one will be talking about it anymore.'' Keira’s words did give her some comfort, knowing it was the truth.

''Yeah, I know… It was kinda cute, though- the way everyone was defending me.'' A small smile found its way to the player's face.

''You always do it for us, so it was time we all do it for you.'' She simply said, as if it was not a big deal.

Y/N did not answer, unsure of what an appropriate follow-up could be.

''Did you see Tooney’s face? I know she was being serious, but it was too good.'' Keira chuckled, reminding the captain of the way Ella immediately started yelling with a scowl.

The striker laughed a bit louder this time, starting to see the humour in the situation. ''Yeah, what a lovely girl.''

''She was ready to start a revolution for you. Probably still is.'' Keira grinned, enjoying the shift in Y/N's mood.

''And then you had LJ who didn't even know what was happening, she came up to me and Lucy- totally confused.'' Y/N explained. 

The midfielder bursted into laughter at Y/N's revelation. ''Wait, LJ didn't get the memo?''

''No, she just casually walked up to us and was like 'why is everyone running towards the ref?' I guess she thought it was a new halftime tradition or something. Lucy filled her in and her eyes almost bulged out of her head.'' The captain chuckled at the memory. 

''Classic LJ.'' Keira remarked. 

As they chatted, the sound of the crowd outside the changing room echoed, reminding Y/N of the ongoing game. 

''I should apologize to the team later.'' Y/N considered, realizing she hadn't addressed her teammates properly after the incident. 

''No, they know you're not the problem here. Besides, we all know you're not a fan of early showers.'' Keira teased. 

She chuckled at her friend's joke, but couldn't shake off the feeling of dejection. Keira noticed her demeanor was shifting again. 

''Don't worry about it, they know you didn't do anything wrong,'' Keira reassured her. ''Besides, half of them are probably still arguing with the referee about the whole situation.'' 

Y/N snorted at the mental image. ''True, they're a protective bunch.'' 

''Well, we've got a great, certain center forward to look up to,'' the Barcelona player winked, ''you're still our captain, Y/N. Red card or not.'' Keira added, a genuine smile on her face.

''Thanks, Kei,'' Y/N said, appreciating the support. She leaned back against the locker, trying to let go of the frustration that still lingered. 

''You know, you should focus on the positives,'' Keira suggested, her tone thoughtful. ''We're winning 3-0, and I'm sure the girls have got an extra motivation now.'' 

''I guess you're right,'' Y/N sighed, ''I just wanna fucking play.'' 

''I know, but you can still analyze, see things you wouldn't notice on the pitch.'' 

''Always the optimist,'' the captain teased, a small smile breaking through. ''I'll try to channel my inner tactical genius from the sidelines.'' 

As they continued chatting, a sudden knock echoed through the changing room, drawing both Y/N and Keira's attention. The door swung open, and in walked another teammate, a familiar face with a sheepish expression. 

''Are you fucking kidding me, Hempo?'' The striker exclaimed, though there was an amused grin present. 

Lauren shrugged her shoulders, sitting down in her cubby. ''I figured I'd join the exclusive red card club with the captain.'' 

''Seems like it's the trend today.'' Keira added, joining in on the laughter. 

''Y/N always tells me to just follow her lead, so…'' 

''Hempo, this isn't what I meant by that.'' 

The trio shared more laughs as they bantered through their early exits of the game. The tension of the match outside seemed to disappear as they focused on their camaraderie. 

requests are always welcome!

[i-cant-sing]

Salauddin screaming and THROWING UP because Princess reader won't stop picking up stray animals from outside and bringing them into her bedroom because "it's too hot for them outside ;( " "you said my room was the coolest soo..."

on the contrary, Salauddin himself is an animal lover. They're Allah's creations that cannot speak, that cannot ask for help, they're just vulnerable. He cares for his horses very greatly, no expenses are spared for the their stables, their caretakers and the best medicine from around the world. The pain of thirst, its one of the worst ways to dies, so Salauddin makes sure no one in his kingdom ever goes to sleep hungry or thirsty, humans or animals. He's had special water systems and pots designed practically everywhere in Egypt so birds and dogs and other animals get to drink their fill.

BUT as much as Salauddin cares for animals, he doesnt... exactly appreciate his palace turning into a zoo because of all the animals you keep bringing in. Its kinda his fault really. All Salauddin did was get a pretty white kitten that had blue eyes- it was so cute, so he gifted it to you. When you asked him why, he couldnt say that its because the cute kitten reminded him of you. So he said that it was too hot outside for small animals like Fatima (as you had named her) and he saw the realisation dawn in your eyes as you looked out at the pyramids, nodding your head along.

Salauddin sighed in irritation as he felt something furry rubbing against his legs. He looked down under his desk to see a black kitten with green eyes- Bilal. You took him in and said "but Salauddin! Fatima is all alone and she needs a playmate! Besides, Bilal is bullied by the street kids cause he's black and they think that he was a jinn!" You used such excuses to adopt 3 more cats (Mustafa, Haider, Zahra) and now you spend dressing them in cute hijabs- yes even the males.

He picked up the black cat and tickled his chin as he began making his way towards your- or what used to be your room. On his way, he passed by servants chasing after your chickens- Emir, Ahmed and Riyaan.

The doors opened as he entered, the room was in complete chaos. Feathers were falling down as birds flew around the room with the maids hot on their tails. Your cats were resting in one corner with your dogs- Shams and Talia standing guard over them. And you? You were in the center of all this chaos, sitting on the ground with a pet sheep- Mihirmah in your arms as you sheared it carefully. You had found her last night on your way home, not even bothering to ask if you could keep her along with your rest of the petting zoo.

Then again, why would his wife need to ask him? Whats his, is yours.

He walked over and sat down beside you and you finally looked up.

"I found Bilal." He stated, petting the kitten that nuzzled his face against him. You smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you! I was so busy with Mihirmah, I didnt realise he had left. I think he escaped when they took the chicks out for a walk."

He hummed before nodding his head at the sheep. "And how many that makes it now?"

"One." "Y/n." He deadpanned. "Well, one sheep. In total, 52 animals."

"Y/n." He looked at you in disbelief. "How- what- it was 45 last week." You looked at him sheepishly. "Well... its not my fault, really. You see- um, well you know how we thought Shams and Talia were just siblings? I think they were confused and um, Talia just gave birth to 6 pups." You avoided his eyes as he stared at you.

"Y/n-"

"I am not getting rid of them, Salauddin." You warned him, petting the sheep in your arms. "They need us to care for their babies! They're new parents!"

"Y/n-"

"Yes, Yusuf?" You used his name, batting your lashes at him. You know how to get to him.

Ya hayati. (My life)

He sighed, petting Bilal in his hands. "I'm going to put Bilal down for a nap."

"Yeah! Just put him with his siblings-" "No. I'm going to separate him and his brothers. They will not be giving babies to their sisters." Salauddin grumbled as you pouted and muttered about how cute new kittens are.

Maybe he can give you a litter of your own to keep you preoccupied. (Not because he likes you or anything- he just doesnt want you to fill his palace with more animals.)

Despite what Salauddin says, he still remembers each name of all your pets. All of them. He also talks to the cats, especially to Bilal about how he needs to behave for him mama and protect her and stuff.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 3 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 4.0k (i know)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), much cussing, some adult themes (again, no smut y'all), bkg and reader go through one stage of grief: bargaining, the plot thickens!

a/n. wrote all this in one day—i couldn't put the doc down until i finished it. this chapter is jam-packed and has lots going on, but we're only at the beginning. i hope you have as much fun reading it as i did writing it!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

“…Though I trust you’ll understand if we set some—” he pauses, and you’re 99% sure it’s for dramatic effect, “—precautionary measures in place?”

“Waddya have in mind?” asks Bakugou, his rough tone laced with unmistakable skepticism.

“Well, for starters…”

Their leader glances back at the bionic woman. “Sayaka, are they ready?”

Sayaka nods. “Ready for installation, Masaki-san.”

You scramble to take a mental note of their names—as well as try to ignore the fact that the robotic girl sounds like a robot, too—as you watch Masaki gesture to the escort from earlier who’s standing at the sides and in the shadows.

He emerges into the dim lights with a wide stride, but to your surprise, another leg steps forward right beside him. Your eyes trail up until they land on the other person, widening in confusion because they look just like a carbon copy of the intimidating escort—tall, ginger head, pale skin—only it’s a girl.

There’s no mistaking it.

They’re twins.

Twin bodyguards. In a quirk supremacist group.

You fight the urge to let out a dry laugh.

But apparently, neither of the two finds the situation funny, because they’re nothing but serious as they approach Masaki and bow politely, before heading to Sayaka and taking what looks like tiny…metal pieces?

You don’t get the opportunity to wonder about what those were, though, because, in the blink of an eye, the twins are already stalking straight toward you and Bakugou, glaring daggers.

“Those are bugs,” Masaki explains just as the twins arrive right in front of you, with the guy from earlier towering over Bakugou and the female staring you down a few inches away from your face, decidedly a little too close for comfort. You barely manage to stop yourself from gulping and looking away.

“They’ll be tracking your speech and movements 24/7. And don’t worry, they’re waterproof.”

You sense Bakugou’s about to spit some smart-ass comment, judging by the way he puffs up like he tends to do when he’s about to drop a curse-riddled quip, but he doesn’t get the chance to deliver the blow because the twins are on you in an instant.

You accidentally let out a yelp as the woman grabs the hem of your tank top so roughly you think it’s gonna tear, before she stuffs her right hand up. Mortified, you struggle against her hold, but her left has a death grip on you.

“Relax,” she seethes, obviously very much already done with you. “I’m just installing it.”

At her words, you manually will yourself to calm down, and it quickly dawns on you that she’s not touching you violently or inappropriately. You tamp down a shiver as her cold fingers come into contact with the center of your chest, right at the dip of your bra and between your breasts, feeling the surface before sticking something that you promptly identify as the tracker.

And as she retracts her hand and steps away from you, right at the same time as her twin like they’re wired for synchrony, you reflect on how it’s so light that you barely feel an added weight to your body. It’s circular, too, and you debate for a second whether or not to peer down at your chest to see what it really looks like, before ultimately deciding against it.

You can do that later, in the privacy of the (hopefully not downstairs) bathroom.

If such a concept even exists.

“Thanks, you two,” comes Masaki’s gentle voice, before shifting to regard you and Bakugou. “You can get to know your designated guards later on, but for now, let’s continue.”

As if on cue, the twins take a further step back before eventually returning to their dark corner.

“What we just affixed on your chests are special devices, again, designed to monitor any sound you make as well as your specific locations. They’re not your ordinarily engineered trackers—they’re Sayaka’s thanks to her quirk—which also allows her to directly receive the feedback and project it for others to see and hear.”

Ah.

You don’t know how that works exactly, but you bet the expensive ass perfume that you got for your birthday last year—the very one you wear for special occasions like now—that it’s got something to do with her robotic parts.

“Does everyone in your group get one, too?” questions Bakugou, who’s now looking a bit miffed. You’re sure he didn’t enjoy getting felt up by a stranger who he just called someone’s little lackey.

“Only the new members,” Sayaka answers succinctly, her voice sounding like it’s filtered with autotune.

But especially you two, you finish for her in your head. And really, you can’t blame them. Taking in a pro-hero, let alone Japan’s #2, is a huge gamble, and Bakugou quite literally can make or break their whole plan to attack. This level of precaution is not at all uncalled for. You’d even go so far as to say it’s not enough.

Bakugou must be thinking the same thing, too, because he doesn’t offer a follow-up question.

Masaki takes your silence as a sign for him to go on.

“Of course, that’s only the first layer of protection.”

Shit.

You hope you didn’t just think that into existence.

The plain-looking leader puts on that prudent smile of his, before turning to look at the old man. “Kouki-san here has a very handy quirk. Teleportation,” he glances at Bakugou, “A sought-after power in the hero world, isn’t it?”

Bakugou shrugs, although you’re guessing the answer is yes and that he’s just too stubborn to admit it.

Figures.

“Well, he’s gone and mastered his quirk, and has since been indispensable to our organization. Essentially—” Masaki huffs, like he’s preparing for the bomb he’s about to drop, “—the very moment you even hint at betraying us, we’re gone,” he snaps his fingers, “Just like that. And you won’t be able to trace us.”

“Really?” drawls Bakugou. “You’ll abandon this cushy, not at all seedy ass headquarters of yours?”

“This is only one of many, Dynamight,” Masaki responds, seemingly unbothered by Bakugou’s taunt. “And this is actually not our headquarters.”

He picks up his glass of alcohol and lightly twirls it around in his hand. “I also trust that you’re aware of what a distinguished group such as ours entails? Naturally, we need to have somewhere safe where we can conduct all our activities under the radar.”

“As you can imagine, it’s not just us five. We have many, many members who share the same principles, and this club can’t possibly be large enough to host all of us.”

“Where are you going with this?” Bakugou demands.

“What I’m saying is that we have a separate place as our headquarters, a place much bigger than this. And—” he cocks his head toward Kouki, “—we get there via teleportation.”

“Obviously,” sneers Bakugou, “Otherwise that’d be a huge waste of the old man’s quirk, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s only one of the reasons. You see, it’s also so that you won’t know where it is located,” Masaki pauses once again, which you decide in a split second is warranted because of what he’s going to say next.

“And for that to work, we’re also going to have to lock you inside.”

Your breath hitches. Bakugou bristles.

“The fu—”

“We’re going to have to make you stay with us—” the plain-looking man interjects with a slightly louder voice, “—at least until the day of the attack, as we cannot risk you two being seen constantly going in and out of this club every night.”

You’re about to contribute to the conversation for the very first time but Bakugou beats you to it. “Fucking stay in? Isn’t that gonna cause even more suspicion?”

“It wouldn’t if you both come up with a good excuse to disappear,” Kouki retorts with a smidge of attitude. He eyes Bakugou with a raised brow, “Wouldn’t now be a great time to have a top-secret ‘mission’ overseas? And I’m sure your friend here can whip something up.”

You brush off the annoyance that shoots through you at the dismissive mention. Instead, you finally bring yourself to speak up. “I thought you just said we’ll be stuffed in a secret hideout?”

“Ah,” Masaki sounds out, “You are, but this is our gateway, so to speak. You go here to get teleported to the headquarters, and from there, get teleported back here to return to the outside world. We won’t hesitate to teleport away from both places the second we have to, but that doesn’t mean our HQ is easily disposable to us, hence all these measures.”

“All this to say,” he furthers, his timid tone juxtaposing the threatening words you’re sure he’s about to utter, “You two better think twice about betraying us.”

There it is.

He smiles again. “Do either of you have any questions?”

Beside you, Bakugou mutters to himself for a second, before clearing his throat. “You’re yapping on and on about what you’ll do if we betray you and shit. Ain’t that such a warm welcome for your new members?”

—A rhetorical question, because he doesn’t let anyone get a word in. Instead, he presses on.

“But what if we don’t? What’s in it for us?”

“You get to live out your ideals, boy,” comes the old geezer’s snappy reply.

Bakugou snorts, and you’re sure it’s not because he found the guy hilarious.

“That’s a shitty deal on our end, don’t ya think so?” the pro-hero shifts his weight on his other foot. “How ‘bout this, you guarantee protection for my…friend here, and we’re even.”

You hold your breath.

Looking past the way he just so awkwardly referred to you as his friend, that segue just now wasn’t exactly the smoothest.

Still, you have no choice but to roll with it. So, with much conviction, you morph your face into that of shyness—one that you hope is charming enough to win their graces.

“Just her?” asks Masaki, placid as ever.

“I can get by,” comes Bakugou’s confident response.

Once again ignoring the mildly degrading remark, you ready yourself to use your quirk. You closely examine the leader’s features as they transform into an expression of contemplation, even as he turns to the other two and engages them in quiet conversation.

You and Bakugou stand there for a few moments, waiting, before Masaki finally turns again.

And all that preparing to utilize your quirk goes out of the dilapidated windows once you catch a glimpse of his face.

“I guess that’s settled, then.”

Called it.

Masaki then raises an eyebrow at the two of you. “Any more concerns?” he smiles to himself, “Heartwarming requests?”

Neither of you says anything.

“None?” he asks again, before patting his thighs in a gesture of finality. “Well, then, I believe it’s time for you to see your new home! Kouki-san?”

At the mention, the old man slowly gets up from where he made himself very comfortable on the couch, and walks leisurely towards you, planting himself in front of and between you and Bakugou.

“Hang tight,” Kouki smirks, reaching out for both of your hands, and you’re just about registering how eerily cool his are when the ground that was perfectly carpeted and steady just a second ago suddenly collapses from beneath you.

A violent wave of nausea instantly hits you as the room completely vanishes before you, replaced by pitch-black darkness in a second. You scramble for purchase—tightening your grip on the person responsible for whatever the fuck this is—as the noise instantaneously gets sucked in a vacuum, leaving you in full silence. Your legs are jelly as you stumble on your feet, and you’re convinced you’re going to fall to your death down to the abyss below you when—just as fast as the lounge disappeared—a warmly lit hallway materializes in front of you.

But it’s too late, you’re already out of balance and lurching forward—inch by excruciating inch—right until you feel a hand grab your forearm and you’re unceremoniously yanked back into an upright position.

You whip to look at Bakugou as you wobble on your feet, and he’s staring at you with such alarm that makes you feel so…vulnerable. He retracts his left hand a beat later when you eventually steady yourself, his serious and unrelenting gaze fixated on you before shifting to study the place you just got teleported to.

You follow suit, eyeing the hallway as you place the hand Kouki was holding into your pocket to warm it up.

Similar to the club and the room you were just in, the area is barely illuminated, but it’s bright enough for you to make out the dark wooden doors that line both sides. You’re right in the middle of the hallway, and at one of the ends you think are staircases leading both to a lower and an upper level, while at the other end is another door.

If these lead to what you think they lead…

Then, damn.

They weren’t kidding about lodging.

From the corner of your eye, you see the old man look at you and follow your line of vision, shifting to study the aforementioned door at the end of this hallway.

“That’s your room,” he offers curtly, like this job of chaperoning you to your place of residence for who knows how many days is beneath him.

Room, you parrot in your head.

Room singular.

“Well?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his impatience when neither you nor Bakugou makes a move. “Aren’t you going to check it out?”

You hesitate, glancing at Bakugou to find him frowning at Kouki, before turning to look at you.

“We don’t have all day, you two,” Kouki adds on with a sigh at the same time you raise your eyebrows ever so minutely at the pro-hero, as if asking for confirmation. “Go on, I’ll wait here.”

It only takes a small nod from Bakugou to pull you out of the paralysis, and the minute that he does, you’re already moving to the spot beside him, matching his pace as you trudge towards the door.

As inconspicuously as you can, you check the corners of the room along the wall facing you for cameras, only to find none.

And so you do it.

With your backs turned against the Teleportation master, you finally let your emotions show on your face.

You also chance a peek at Bakugou, only to find him already eyeing you with the very same expression you’re sure is written all over your features.

The one that says you’re fucked.

You don’t get to dwell or comment on the shared sentiment, though, mainly because they’ll hear every word you say, but also because you arrive in front of the door. Bakugou looks at the knob and then at you warily, and you can only nod in encouragement.

That seems to be enough of a push for him, because he reaches for and turns the handle, pushing past the entryway so you can walk in from behind him.

Now, the first thing that registers after you startle at the door closing is the fact that the room is small. Tiny, even. There’s another door at the back, which you think leads to the comfort room.

But that’s pretty much it.

That, and there’s only one bed.

To your credit, though, you’re able to refrain from gasping in horror at the sight of it, which you can chalk up to the next thing that you see—a couch.

It doesn’t seem like it’s foldable or can be converted into a larger bunk, but it’ll have to do. It’s brown and hopefully real leather this time, and is crammed right next to the bed. You remind yourself that they were only expecting Bakugou, and so you can’t really complain and that you’ll have to make do with sleeping on the couch for the next n days.

Aside from all those, though, the room is relatively bare.

Well, apart from the cameras with the blinking red light at the upper, four corners of it.

But you don’t get to wordlessly warn him about it, let alone come to terms with the fact that they’re deadass going to be watching your every single move, because something seizes your wrist, spinning you around, leaving you face to face with Bakugou.

You’re too preoccupied with the sudden motion and the fact that you’re just a breadth’s width away from each other to notice the darkened look in his eyes.

Which, in hindsight, you should’ve noticed.

If you wanted any chance at bracing yourself for what he’s going to do next.

“Wha—”

You yelp—cutting yourself off—when Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki—Japan’s #2 Pro-hero, Vogue Japan’s Hottest Bachelor of the Year, and the dickhead who used to be your biggest, fattest crush—grabs at your neck and smashes his lips against yours.

You involuntarily jerk away from him, but his free hand shoots up to roughly clutch your hip just as his grip on your neck tightens, pinning you in place and right against him.

And you don’t know how the fuck it happens, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t know at this point, and frankly, you don’t want to know, because coupled with his scalding hold on your body, it causes you to do the unthinkable.

You moan.

And again, you don’t even get the opportunity to feel the utter humiliation, because just as quickly as he pounced on you, Bakugou pulls away, but not before scowling at the cameras as if he just noticed them—which you doubt—then taking your hand, dragging you out of the door and into the hallway.

The old man glances at you. “Are you don—”

“Take us the fuck back now,” Bakugou spits as he pulls you right beside him.

At that, Kouki’s eyebrows furrow. “You ought to know better than to speak to an elderly like that.”

But the man who just fucking kissed you apparently can’t give a single flying fuck, because he retorts without missing a beat. “Take us back now.”

That must’ve been the final straw, because Kouki’s face finally morphs into the scowl that you think he’s been trying to suppress this entire time, but to your surprise, he moves closer to the two of you and once again, reaches for your hands.

You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but what you do know is that Bakugou’s onto something here, because he wouldn’t have pulled that stunt just now without any reason, which means the last thing you should do is resist.

And so you take Kouki’s hand, just as Bakugou snags the other, and when you do, the floor gives out from underneath you.

You’re still overcome with a sense of dizziness as your surroundings shift and the noise dissipates around you, but as you find the lounge slowly appearing before your eyes, you find that it’s not as bad the second time.

Bakugou’s still holding your hand when you arrive at the second floor of the club, right back where you stood from a while ago.

Sayaka is the first one to notice you, most likely thanks to her quirk and the goddamn device stuck to your chest, but it’s Masaki who speaks up when he catches wind of your arrival.

He puts down the deck of cards you think he’s just been shuffling before shifting to look at you. “Back so soon?”

Kouki turns around to face him, “Bakugou demanded to—”

“Why the fuck are there cameras in our room?”

Offended, the old man whips around again to glower at Bakugou, seemingly ready to unleash the sermon of the century. “Young man—”

“Turn them the fuck off,” the pro-hero interjects, “And the mics, too.”

Bakugou hesitates, as if unsure of how to properly say the next few words. He glances at you, expression inexplicable, before turning back to face them. “…At least at night.”

Silence.

“Oooh, I see where this is going,” comes Masaki’s reaction a moment later, a knowing smile creeping on his face. You feel yourself flame. “You weren’t being clear with us earlier, Bakugou. You didn’t say you brought your girlfriend.”

“Didn’t think it was necessary to point out,” comes Bakugou’s terse reply.

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid it doesn’t matter either way. The surveillance is for our safety, which comes above everything else, even the privacy of our esteemed members.”

“You promised you’d protect her at all costs,” Bakugou counters. “Protecting her modesty from the perverts you call your surveillance people is part of that.”

Now, you’re not a hundred percent certain, but you’re pretty sure he just shot the cyborg a look at the latter half of the sentence, which you think would’ve been a noble gesture—if it weren’t for the fact that it’s not just her, judging by the sheer number of cameras in this room alone.

Your attention drifts back to Masaki, however, when he heaves a sigh, leaning against the couch with a tired expression on his face. “Tell me, then, Dynamight. How do you propose we make sure you don’t brew something behind our backs off surveillance?”

“I can turn off the bugs,” Sayaka pipes up before Bakugou can answer, her mechanical voice drifting across the room. “They emit a blue light at their circumference that shuts down when I turn the device off.”

“As for the cameras…” she drones on, “The blinking red light should be gone when they’re offline.”

“That shit won’t do,” Bakugou declares decisively, not even letting the suggestion simmer. “There’s no knowing for sure that they’re actually off and aren’t just hacked to seem like they are.”

“The cameras should also face down. And—” he huffs, “—We get to remove the tracker.”

A chorus of protests erupts from the group—particularly from Sayaka and Kouki—but even the twins who are still stationed at the sides. Masaki, in contrast, only sits in silence as he studies the pro-hero, but there’s no missing the uneasiness decorating his features.

“It’s only at night,” Bakugou reasons, voice now a bit louder to be heard amidst the sea of complaints. “You can set up guards around the perimeters of our room. We’ll surrender them at the door before entering, and we can’t go out beyond the doorway until they’re attached again.”

And when no one says anything, Bakugou pushes. “How does that sound?”

You chance a glance at Masaki, who does not seem to be getting anywhere near convinced.

Bakugou must be noticing it, too, because he squeezes your hand so imperceptibly that you almost miss it.

But you don’t, and quite honestly, you could have and be okay with having done so, because you were on it, anyway.

You quickly scan the room.

One, two, three, four, five.

Five.

You can do five.

And so with the most innocent tone you can muster, you speak up.

“That sounds reasonable to me.”

All five whip to look at you, and the second that they do, you pull—swiftly and in succession—eyes jumping from Sayaka to Kouki to Masaki to the male twin and then to the girl.

Your gaze darts back to the leader right after to make sure you got him, but his remarkably serene countenance is enough to tell you that you’ve successfully done it.

You did it.

You just won Bakugou and you the window of time to discuss the mission in the privacy of your own room.

And Bakugou must be seeing the palpable shift in their demeanors because he squeezes your hand once more, only this time you think it’s in gratitude.

You feel a surge of pride swell in your chest.

Let the games begin.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[hanafubukki]

Can be seen as a part 3 to these fics: part 1 and part 2 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.

“My son, is he loved?”

You startled and looked at the knight in front of you.

He had a look in his eyes, a look that you couldn’t decipher. No, it was a look you couldn’t bring yourself to decipher.

The Knight of Dawn had found you a way home, ironically with the help of the three fairies. The same fairies that would end up giving that fated blessing to Silver in the future.

You thought about his question. You thought about all the people who loved Silver.

“Yes, very loved.” You replied confidently. “He is very, very loved.”

The Knight of Dawn smiled; you tried to keep the tears at bay. Time must run its course, you knew that all too well. That didn’t stop the fragments chipping away from your heart.

The wind picked up and you could tell, the portal home would open soon.

"Thank you for telling me. It brings me peace knowing my son is born in a world of harmony."

Unlike my own, was left unsaid.

And then it opened, your way home. A portal made with swirls of colors.

"YN." You turned, facing the Knight of Dawn, drinking him in one last time.

He raised his hand, and you placed yours gently on top of his. He leaned down and kissed your fingertips. The tears you tried so hard to keep away finally fell.

He pulled you into a hug, shushing you gently as a sob broke through. You whispered his name repeatedly. His name, not his title, but his name you learned as time passed. His name that you would only say when you two were alone and no other ears around. His fingers tangled in your hair; his embrace tightened.

Once you calmed down, he wiped at the drops clinging to your lashes.

"You have to go."

You nodded, pulling away.

"Thank you."

"There is nothing to thank me for. I only wish for your happiness, YN."

You bid him farewell and he returned it back as softly.

You squeezed his hand one last time before stepping towards the portal, returning home to your time.

“Goodbye, my first love.”

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 2

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter features mostly soft, domestic fluff as I work out the plot! Next update in ~3 days. Enjoy!

[Ao3 link]

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“Hehehehe!” Is what you awoke to, followed by the heart-stopping blare of cars passing by way too close for comfort.

You jolt, held in place by Mr. Crawling’s firm arms. He laughs again, giving your face a poke. “Not ∎∎∎∎!” He coos rather loudly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, good morning, Mr. Crawling,” you say, despite the sun hardly being up. It’s actually still pretty dark, and as you survey your brand new area, you notice that you’re on a rather steep part of the mountains, adjacent to some dirt roads and the scarce road lights illuminating the area.

“∎∎∎ stops!” Mr. Crawling says, rocking the both of you gently in a soothing back-and-forth motion. Huh, for being dead and rather thin-looking, his lap was actually pretty comfortable. 

You eye the area, trying your best to repeat “∎∎∎?”

Mr. Crawling nods quickly with a smile. “∎∎∎!” He says, pointing at the road.

Oh, road?

But– wait, the road is very obviously continuing off towards somewhere, you muse quietly. Perhaps something more like… the path? If you look from his perspective, the monotonous dirt mounds, roots, and rockers were most definitely cut off by the road.

So, path will probably fit somewhat better.

You nodded, “Mhm, path stops. Go with me.” As you stand up, you groan a bit, stretching stiff limbs held tightly together for an extended period of time. Judging by the sky, he must’ve been dragging the two of you for a good amount of time.

You look right and left, and upon seeing no cars, you hurriedly cross the road, watching with relief as he does the same– in fact, he moves much quicker here, traversing the flat land with glee.

Upon crossing the road, you see the lights and tall buildings of your city, numerous of which you recognize based on the shape, ads, or colors. 

“Oh thank god,” you smiled, looking back once more to check on your ever loyal ghost. Though he most definitely didn’t understand your relief, he seemed to mirror your relaxed and happy demeanor, swaying ever so slightly as he waited patiently for you to continue.

You grinned, then began to carefully trek through the remaining hills and bushes, mostly following the road from a safe distance. After all, you weren’t quite sure whether or not other people could see your new companion, and you’d much rather get back to your tiny apartment without any extra screams or the need to act like Mr. Crawling wasn’t 2 feet behind you. 

Fortunately, Japan is much quieter at dawn than at midnight with most office workers having already gone home after a night of drinking or overtime. The few that remain were early risers much too tired to give their surroundings a second thought or still half drunk and passed out near the station or a random nook in an alley. 

Lucky, lucky, lucky you think to yourself as you made steady progress to your apartment building. Feeling slightly more rested and in a better mood, you allowed Mr. Crawling explore the new setting for a few minutes, laughing at his reaction to window displays or any vending machines you passed by.

You felt far more secure walking around an area you know compared to the mountains.

“∎∎∎∎!” Mr. Crawling says, stopping to inspect a small collection of Gachapon outside a large convenience store.

You let out a small snort, his amusement infectious. You can't remember the last time you were that excited over a capsule machine. Maybe it was elementary school? 

“Want one?” You ask, giving your bag a small shake to confirm that it still had coins in it.

Mr. Crawling brightened even more, “Me can?”

You fish out your coin pouch, digging around for some 100 yen coins. You pull out 2, handing them over to his hand and placing them in his palm.

You grab 2 more coins and demonstrate, picking out one depicting cute foods. You inserted the coins and twisted the lever, watching as a yellow ball rolled out. You picked it up, popping it open, and unfurling the wrap covering your brand new keychain, revealing a piece of cartoony buttered toast.

Mr. Crawling scooted closer, giggling out “cute cute cute!” as he poked and prodded at the small plastic thing.

Without a moment of hesitation, he inserts his coins into the same machine you had picked out, his hand turning the lever making a suspicious creak and clicking that, in your heart, signified something breaking. 

Ah, shit… you thought half-heartedly as he took his yellow capsule, popping it open and tearing off the plastic covering. He let out giggles, staring at his tiny new keychain.

A cute fried piece of mackerel with little x marks over its eyes.

You let out your own laugh, absentmindedly patting his head as he poked and moved his keychain. His head jerks up, grin radiant, as he says “Me like ∎∎∎! Thank you!” 

You felt your heart melt as you gave his head a rougher pat. “Of course. Me happy…uh– me happy you happy.”

Mr. Crawling gushed, lunging up to give you a tight hug that nearly brought you to the ground again. Your far more controlled yelp was cut off by your own laughs paired with his giggles as you combed your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as neat as before, slightly ruffled up and tangled around small pieces of dirt, leaves, and rocks.

Yikes, he needed a bath. Do ghosts need baths? Well, regardless, you probably weren’t that far off, and the remains of dried blood would probably stop looking like the dried mud you knew other people assumed it was when the sun fully rises. 

And so, the moment was rather brief, interrupted by some cars passing by, but it was more warmth than you’ve ever really experienced since childhood, and you truly cherished it.

“Alright, c’mon,” You grinned, taking a half a step back to indicate you wanted to move. “We go.”

Mr. Crawling, as sweet as can be, followed after, keeping his new keychain as… safe as can be tucked between his razor sharp teeth, the little mackerel swaying against his chin and jaw.

You tried your best not to laugh at the sight.

The journey to your apartment afterwards was as tedious as you recalled, the same streets looking hardly any different despite the fact that you were basically kidnapped into a new world and nearly died quite a few times. And, while the rush of laughter was nice, you could feel the remaining exhaustion built up from the past 24 hours weighing heavier on your shoulders with every few steps, your hour-or-so long nap hardly the rest you actually needed.

But, you can’t deny, having Mr. Crawling by your side was the motivation you needed as you hiked up roads and through narrow roads as you began to walk away from the most busting parts of the city, entering a residential area that was fairly secluded from the main streets. 

Your building was more run down than most, cheap with some decent space for one person and some nice, elderly neighbors (that you really don’t want to traumatize). So, you opened the creaky entrance as quietly as you could, feeling confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t make much of a peep of noise until you reached your room.

You were 3 floors up, and you stopped yourself from letting out another huff of laughter at how at-home Mr. Crawling appeared to be on familiar concrete floors and stairs. That was too bad, honestly, as your house had wooden floors and some tatami mats, but a part of your mind, despite knowing how sturdy his limbs were, felt better that he wouldn’t be constantly kneeling and crawling on cold concrete floors like before.

And, really, it would be best for the both of you to leave that place as far behind as possible. In fact, you’d like to convince yourself that everything was a dream, and you simply found a ghost in the mountains like all the ghost stories had warned you about. No blood, no torture room, and no man in red.

All normal. Regular life. No deaths or blood or a creepy face peering at you from every dark crevice. 

You pull out your keys, giving your doorknob a soft rattle as it opens, and you breathe in a lungful of air you didn’t realize you could miss so much.

The air was slightly stale, but it was nothing an hour or so of airing out could fix. 

You walk in, kicking off ruined shoes by the doorway and hesitating for a moment when you see Mr. Crawling’s… attire.

It wasn’t bad. For crawling in a damp mountain, it was actually very clean, but you were still on the edge of letting dirt and grime inside.

But when Mr. Crawling tilts his head, mackerel clicking against his cheek, you felt yourself give in with a small sigh, and nod with a smile that you simply couldn’t help.

You walked in, waving him in, and once settled upon the hardwood floor, you shut the door tight, ensuring everything was locked.

“∎∎∎?” Mr. Crawling asked, mouth free of a charm. It was now back in his hands.

You hummed, giving him a blank look that you knew he knew meant you didn’t understand.

Mr. Crawling, hardly deterred, points at your home. “∎∎∎? You ∎∎∎?”

Hmm… You contemplate, looking at your room. Was he trying to say home?

“Home,” you say patiently in your language, watching as Mr. Crawling had a turn of looking confused. “...H..” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Home,” you pointed all around your home. “Home. Me home.”

Mr. Crawling followed where your finger was pointing rather comedically, head craning backwards and torso twisting around to see everything you were showing him. “You ∎∎∎. You… home?”

Your smile was instantly matched by his as you nodded quickly in affirmation. “Yes! Me home! Me language. Home.”

Mr. Crawling giggles, then crawls further into the house, exploring. You take the time to get settled, placing your bag on the hanger and plugging your nearly dead phone into the nearest outlet. Stretching your tensed, spent muscles, you finally took the time to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight.

Firstly, your hair was an utter mess, grime and browned blood crusting up in it, on your face, and on a good amount of the rest of your body. Your clothes were frankly ruined, and you’ll have to burn them or something. There’s no way you’ll be able to explain why that much blood from a presumably missing person is all over you.

You give a glance at Mr. Crawling who paused his cabinet-inspection to, in turn, look at you. 

… surely… you contemplate, not even registering the way he’s shuffling a bit under your gaze. Surely I can leave him alone for… 20 minutes? I need to shower at least… scratch the bath. I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay there. 

Mr. Crawling hurriedly began shoving stuff back in, the clacking and banging drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You question, eloquently, as Mr. Crawling asks, holding a dustpan, “You mad?”

… Oh? “No, no.” You quickly reassure, crossing the room to bend down a bit and pet his head. “Me happy you happy. You… uh..” You pause, eyes scrunching shut as you begin digging in your mind for a word.

“You… can.” You eventually settle with, feeling assured that he understood when he smiled. You watched for another few seconds as he re-emptied the now-messy floor cabinet, digging out items that you’ve frankly forgotten about, before turning away with a small laugh and walking off to the bathroom.

You pulled out a spare set of clothes, dumping your current ones into a pile, and watched as grime and crust poured into the drain.

________________________________

When you step out, feeling refreshed and relaxed, you spotted a mini pile of mess surrounding your brand new roommate who seemed eager, mackerel keychain in mouth, to explore.

You hummed, observing his dirty appearance, before making a decision.

After all, you can’t have someone that dirty resting on a clean, white futon– or even the tatami mats he thankfully hasn’t walked over yet. He needed a bath earnestly. 

“Mr. Crawling,” You say, watching him turn in excitement.

“Hello!” He greeted, crawling towards you.

A brief half-second thought ensures that you truly had no word associated with water, wash, or anything along those lines, so you simply pointed into the bathroom, motioning towards yourself and your clean body.

“Uhm, wash. Bath,” You said, heading inside the still steamy room as you rinsed the tub and began filling it with water.

Mr. Crawling inspected it, peering at the warm water. “You,” you said, pointing inside the filling bathtub, followed by the motion of you washing your hair.

He tilts his head, jaw gently chewing at the keychain in his mouth. Then, when he sunk his arm in, you nodded fervently. “Yes yes,” You encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

When he sinks in, clothes bubbling to the surface, you contemplate asking him to take it off, but…

Yeahh, maybe not. You weren’t ready to see… whatever male ghosts had down there.

You pushed the fabric into the water, letting it soak up water until it sunk on its own and grimaced at the small wave of dirt that rose to the surface.

Yikes.

_____________________

Giggles erupted from the bathroom followed by small shouts of laughter periodically for the next 30 minutes as Mr. Crawling enjoyed the bath, splashing water out the tub and nearly melting when you firmly scrubbed his scalp and feet-long locks of hair.

You had drained and refilled the tub about 3 times now, the water finally a consistent clear color, that allowed you to wash and rinse the poor guy with some peace of mind.

“Good good! Happy!” Mr. Crawling cheered as he pushed his head up against your palms and fingers pressed against his head. “Thank you! Thank you!”

You laughed yourself, rinsing out the shampoo by scooping up buckets of water and pouring it over his head. “You really needed this,” you mused, gently layering a thin amount of conditioner onto his hair and letting it sit out on the side of the tub.

You can already see your bank account taking a foreseeable hit once your hair products run out.

Mr. Crawling giggled, taking out his now-warm arms to pet your (thankfully still wet) hair as you briefly scrubbed his legs and arms and attempted to wash his torso through his clothes. They seemed to be thin enough, after all, and it doubles as washing the fabric.

You snorted as hair fell into your face, large damp fingers clumsily pushing them away before you could really react. “You safe!” Mr. Crawling chirped, using his warm hands to cup your face and keep anything else from falling onto your eyes.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks began to warm themselves up, a soft smile firmly planted on your face. “And you’re very sweet,” you hum good naturedly, finishing up with a last rinse, drain of the tub, and wash down with the nearby showerhead.

You squeezed out as much water as you possibly could from your brand new sentient, crawling mop before helping him out of the tub and onto a towel. You gave him a small warning, motioning him to cover his ears as you plugged in the hairdryer, doing your best to dry him off.

He giggled, pulling his hands off his ears after a few moments and observing the hairdryer, reaching out to touch it a few times. “Cool! Noise ∎∎∎.” He said, watching his hair fly all around the room.

By the end, your arms were sore and your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep, but he was dry and clean– very, very clean, skin no longer various shades of gray and clothes a step lighter than they used to be.

Before you could stand up and begin your voyage to your bed, he gently tugged you down, pulling you to sit on the towel.

“Huh?” You ask, watching as he fiddled with your hairdryer. He giggled when it roared to life, pointing the heated air at your head and clothes.

Oh… You relaxed, smiling as he tried his best to dry off whatever remaining moisture was in it. It was only slightly damp anyways, the air having done its job, but the tenderness of his fingers trying to run through your scalp and the warmth of not only the hairdryer but also the comfort of returning to some sort of semblance of a normal, soft, and loving life was enough to give rise to brand emotions that surged up from your chest and into your eyes. 

You did your best to choke out anything threatening to escape your throat, but there was no hiding the tears burning in your eyes or the way your body tensed up against the knees pressed against your back. 

Suddenly, the hairdryer shuts off, and a head smelling like your favorite shampoo pops in your vision, followed by “You sad? Hurt? Sad, you sad, me ∎∎∎.”

You sniffled, giving yourself that at least, and shook your head, quickly wiping off any tears. “No. No, me happy. You… nice. You nice… much. Me happy. Thank you.” 

Still, Mr. Crawling looked concerned, giving your body a quick check over and closely inspecting your head to ensure he really didn’t hurt you. When he finds nothing, he leans back, crawling to your side.

“You rest?” He says, and you give a jerky nod.

“Yeah, me… rest. Need rest.” You mutter, standing up and kicking the towels off to the side as well. You could clean that up later.

You lead Mr. Crawling out the room and into the small alcove covered in a tatami mat, opening a cabinet and pulling out 2 futons, unrolling them onto the floor. You then grabbed your pillows, blanket, and hurried to make yourself as comfortable as possible, handing him his set so that he could do the same.

But, instead of setting up his bed like you, he just sat right beside you intently, merely laying down the futon and pressing his pillow against your side.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, voice slightly nasally and eyes a bit puffy. You simply laid down, too tired and half-embarrassed to remain sitting up, but let out a small noise as his body laid on top of yours.

“What are you–”

“You rest,” Mr. Crawling says with a smile, face pressed against your abdomen and his blanket resting against his legs. “You rest. Me ∎∎∎∎ you safe.”

And, honestly, you don’t bother with trying to refute anything anymore. You sighed, letting your overworked muscles relax and gently resting your hand on his head. You were home, you were safe, and you… you weren’t alone. You had someone there with you now. Someone who protected you and could keep you safe in your sleep.

You blink open your eyes briefly when you felt something cold and foreign press into the other hand resting at your side, but upon seeing the small mackerel and toast keychains resting in your palm, you let out a small snort and let your eyes fall shut once again, mumbling a small “goodnight..” as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

.

.

.

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“...g…goood…niight…”

That's all! Gave you guys a bit of a longer chapter (~3.2k words) as an extra thanks! Hope you enjoyed ^^

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His Shadow: Chp 3

masterlist part 1 part 2

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The first rays of dawn had barely brushed the horizon when Azriel slipped out of bed, careful not to wake YN or Knox. The apartment was still cloaked in the quiet calm of early morning, and Azriel took a moment to watch them both, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective love. YN was curled up under the blankets, her breathing soft and even, while Knox lay peacefully in his bassinet, his tiny fists curled beside his face.

Azriel felt a pang of guilt as he prepared to leave them behind, but he knew it was necessary. The inner circle had already been questioning his absences, his lateness, and as much as he wanted to stay, he had to keep up appearances. No one could know about Knox or YN. Not yet. It was too dangerous—too many uncertainties that he couldn’t risk.

He dressed quietly, pulling on his usual dark leathers, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. Before he left, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to YN’s forehead, then one to Knox’s tiny brow. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, though neither of them stirred.

With a final, lingering glance, he slipped out of the apartment and took to the skies, his wings carrying him swiftly toward the townhouse. The cold morning air helped clear the last remnants of sleep from his mind, and he felt more refreshed than he had in days, thanks to the night of rest YN had insisted he take. For once, he wasn’t late, and it felt like a small victory.

As he landed gracefully in the courtyard of the townhouse, Azriel was immediately greeted by the sound of laughter—high-pitched and full of mischief. He barely had time to fold his wings before a blur of movement came barrelling toward him.

“Uncle Az!”

Azriel braced himself just in time as his nine-year-old nephew, Nyx, tackled him, wrapping his small arms around Azriel’s waist with surprising strength for his age. Not a moment later, another figure joined the fray—Agnar, the seven-year-old son of Cassian and Nesta, who was no less enthusiastic in his greeting.

“Gotcha!” Agnar declared, his eyes bright with triumph as he latched onto Azriel’s leg.

Azriel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he looked down at the two boys, their faces beaming up at him. “Looks like you two have been practicing your sneak attacks,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he ruffled Nyx’s hair.

Nyx grinned up at him, his violet eyes—the same as his father’s—glinting with pride. “We’ve been waiting for you! Mom said you might be late again, but you’re on time!”

Agnar nodded vigorously, his dark hair a wild mess that mirrored Cassian’s own unruly locks. “Yeah! Dad said he was gonna make you run laps if you were late!”

Azriel chuckled, though he could easily imagine Cassian issuing such a threat. He knelt down to their level, pulling them both into a tight hug. “Well, I’m here now. And it looks like you two have gotten stronger since the last time I saw you.”

The boys beamed at the praise, and Nyx puffed out his chest with pride. “Daddy’s been training us! He says we’ll be warriors one day, just like you and Uncle Cassian.”

Azriel’s heart warmed at the thought, though it was tinged with the bittersweet realization that Knox, too, might one day want to follow in their footsteps. But that was a future he wasn’t ready to think about just yet.

As the boys finally released him, their excitement still palpable, Azriel straightened up, his eyes scanning the courtyard. The rest of the inner circle was gathered near the entrance to the townhouse, watching the scene with smiles and knowing looks.

Rhysand stood with his arms crossed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he observed his son’s interaction with Azriel. Feyre was beside him, her eyes soft with affection as she watched Nyx practically bounce around Azriel’s feet. Cassian and Nesta were also there, Cassian’s arm slung casually around Nesta’s shoulders, though there was a distinct glint of amusement in his hazel eyes.

“Well, well,” Cassian called out as Azriel approached, Nyx and Agnar still clinging to him like shadows. “Look who finally decided to show up on time. I was starting to think you’d forgotten what the sun looked like.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of making me run laps,” he shot back, his tone light.

Cassian barked out a laugh, clapping Azriel on the back as he joined the group. “Smart move, Shadowsinger. I’m not sure Nyx and Agnar would’ve let you get away without a proper wrestling match, though.”

“Uncle Azriel could win!” Nyx piped up, looking up at Cassian with a determined expression. “He’s the best fighter!”

Cassian grinned down at his nephew, his hazel eyes sparkling with pride. “He sure is, kiddo. But even the best need their rest.”

Nesta, who had been watching the exchange with a slight smile, narrowed her eyes playfully at Azriel. “You do look like you finally got some sleep,” she observed, though there was a hint of a question in her voice. “It’s about time.”

Azriel shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “Had a quiet night for once,” he replied smoothly, though the truth of where he had spent his night—who he had spent it with—remained locked away behind his usual stoic demeanour.

Rhysand, ever the observant one, raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t press further. Instead, he glanced at Cassian with a smirk. “Looks like we might not need to stage that intervention after all.”

Feyre elbowed him lightly, her own smile softening as she looked at Azriel. “We were starting to worry, you know,” she said gently. “But I’m glad you’re here. On time, no less.”

Azriel nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for the concern he had caused, though he masked it well. “I’m here,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m ready to work.”

As the group turned to head inside, Nyx and Agnar finally released their grips on Azriel, though they remained close by, chattering excitedly about their latest training sessions. Azriel listened with half an ear, his mind already shifting to the tasks ahead, though part of him remained anchored to the quiet apartment he had left behind.

No one knew about Knox. No one knew about YN. And as much as it pained him to keep that part of his life a secret, he knew it was necessary. The inner circle might have noticed that he looked better, more rested, but they didn’t—couldn’t—know the real reason why.

---

The streets of the Hewn City were as dark and foreboding as ever, their twisted architecture casting long, jagged shadows across the cobblestones. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the faint, acrid tang of smoke from the forges deep within the city’s belly.

YN walked with purposeful steps, her heart heavy as she navigated the maze of narrow alleys and crowded marketplaces. The city’s bustling energy had always made her uneasy, but today it felt especially suffocating.

Knox lay nestled in his buggy, a small, sturdy contraption that allowed YN to keep him close while still moving through the crowded streets. The buggy's wheels bumped over uneven cobblestones, but Knox remained calm, his tiny form swaddled in a soft blanket, his dark eyes peeking out as he watched the world pass by. YN glanced down at him every few moments, reassured by the sight of his peaceful expression.

But despite the calm her son exuded, YN couldn’t shake the discomfort gnawing at her. The Hewn City wasn’t a place she ever wanted to bring her child, but she had little choice. She needed new clothes for work, and as much as she loathed the task, it was unavoidable.

Passing by gaudy displays of shops filled with shimmering silks, lace, and jewels, YN felt a pang of discomfort. The garments on display were designed to entice and seduce, and she knew all too well their purpose. They were a far cry from the simple, comfortable clothing she preferred—clothing that allowed her to disappear into the background, unnoticed and unbothered. But here, in the heart of the Hewn City, blending in meant conforming to the expectations of the lords and ladies who ruled this shadowed realm.

As she approached one of the more discreet boutiques, the door creaked ominously behind her, announcing her arrival. The shopkeeper, a tall, willowy female with sharp features and a calculating gaze, glanced up from her counter. Her eyes flicked over YN with a cold, assessing look before they landed on Knox in the buggy. A flicker of disdain passed over the shopkeeper’s face before she smoothed it away, her expression becoming a mask of polite indifference.

“May I help you?” the shopkeeper asked, her tone clipped, though she kept her voice level.

YN lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by the woman’s unspoken disapproval. “I need a few outfits,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Something for tonight, and for the rest of the week.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes lingered on Knox for a moment longer, her gaze sharp with barely concealed judgment, before she nodded and gestured for YN to follow. YN pushed the buggy forward, the wheels rolling quietly over the polished stone floor as she trailed behind the woman to the back of the shop where the more provocative garments were kept.

Each piece on display was a reminder of the life YN had chosen—or rather, the life she had been forced into by circumstance. A life where her worth was measured not by her skills or her kindness, but by how well she could please those who held power over her. It was a bitter reality, one she had long since learned to endure, but it stung all the more now that Knox was in her life.

As the shopkeeper began to pull out various garments—delicate lace, rich velvets, and silks that shimmered like liquid night—YN forced herself to focus. She needed to choose quickly, to get this over with and return to the relative safety of her mother’s home. But as she sorted through the options, the weight of the stares from other patrons in the shop bore down on her.

They whispered behind their hands, their gazes flitting between her and Knox with thinly veiled judgment. To them, she was a curiosity—a young female, barely 137 years old, already burdened with a child and working in one of the most notorious pleasure houses in the Hewn City. They probably thought she had wasted her youth, thrown away her beauty for a life of servitude.

But YN had stopped caring about their judgment a long time ago. She had learned to build walls around her heart, to shut out the whispers and the stares. They didn’t know her, didn’t know the reasons behind her choices or the sacrifices she had made. They saw only what they wanted to see—a pretty face, a young mother struggling in a harsh world—and they passed their silent verdicts accordingly.

Knox let out a soft coo, and YN instinctively reached down to brush a finger against his cheek, soothing him with a gentle touch. She made her selections quickly—three outfits that would suffice for the next week, each one designed to catch the eye and hold it. The shopkeeper wrapped them in crisp black paper and handed them over with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you,” YN murmured as she paid, her tone polite but detached. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place, to escape the oppressive atmosphere that clung to every surface.

With the bundle of clothing tucked under one arm and Knox safely secured in his buggy, YN stepped back out onto the street. The air was thick and humid, a faint mist curling up from the damp stones underfoot. The stares followed her as she walked, the whispers fading into the background as she focused on her next destination—her mother’s house.

Her mother lived in one of the quieter quarters of the Hewn City, a modest home nestled between two larger, more opulent residences. It wasn’t much, but it was a refuge for YN and Knox, a place where she could leave her son without fear. Her mother had always been her anchor, the one person who had supported her through every trial, and YN knew that Knox was safe in her care.

The door creaked open as YN approached, her mother’s familiar face appearing in the dim light of the entryway. There was a warmth in her eyes as she took in the sight of YN and Knox, though there was also a shadow of concern that hadn’t been there before.

“You made it,” her mother said softly, stepping aside to let YN inside. She reached out to take Knox, her hands gentle as she lifted him from the buggy and cradled him against her chest. “How is my little warrior today?”

YN managed a small smile as she watched her mother coo over Knox, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. “He’s doing well,” she replied, her voice softer now that she was in the safety of her mother’s home. “He’s a little restless, but nothing too bad.”

Her mother nodded, her gaze lingering on YN’s face as if searching for signs of strain. “And you? How are you holding up?”

YN hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She didn’t want to burden her mother with her worries, but the concern in her eyes was too much to ignore. “I’m managing,” she said, though it was clear that it took effort to keep her voice steady. “It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

Her mother sighed, the sound filled with a deep understanding that only years of experience could bring. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she said gently. “I’m here for you, and so is that boy of yours.”

At the mention of him, YN’s heart twisted with a mixture of longing and guilt. She knew Azriel would do anything for her and Knox, but the secrets they kept weighed heavily on her soul. She had chosen this life, and she would bear the consequences, but sometimes she wished things could be different—wished that she could walk through the streets without fear, without the burden of judgment and expectation.

But those were just wishes, fleeting and impossible. What mattered now was Knox, and keeping him safe. As long as she could do that, she would endure anything.

“Thank you,” YN said softly, her eyes meeting her mother’s with gratitude. “For everything.”

Her mother smiled, though it was tinged with a sadness that mirrored YN’s own. “You’re stronger than you know, my darling,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Knox’s brow before turning back to YN. “Now, go get some rest before your shift tonight. I’ll take care of him.”

YN nodded, her heart heavy with love and sorrow as she watched her mother carry Knox into the cozy living room, the firelight casting a warm glow over them both. Knox settled quickly in her arms, his tiny face relaxed and content.

It was a bittersweet sight, one that filled YN with both relief and an aching sense of loss. She didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to spend another night in the pleasure house, but she had no choice. This was the life she had to lead, the sacrifices she had to make.

With one last lingering glance, YN turned and headed upstairs to the small bedroom that had once been hers. The bed was simple, the blankets neatly folded at the foot, but it was enough. She would rest, gather her strength, and then face the night ahead.

---

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the city of Velaris. It was a beautiful evening, the kind that often filled Azriel with a rare sense of peace. But tonight, as he made his way to the River House for a meeting with Rhysand and Cassian, a heavy weight pressed on his chest. He hadn’t seen YN since the night before, and the lingering exhaustion from sleepless nights with Knox gnawed at him. The secrecy, the distance—it was all starting to take its toll.

Azriel landed softly on the balcony of Rhysand’s office, his wings folding neatly behind him as he stepped inside. The familiar scent of leather-bound books and parchment greeted him, along with the rich, heady aroma of Rhysand’s preferred tea. Cassian was already there, leaning casually against the edge of Rhys’s desk, a half-empty glass of whiskey in hand. Rhysand sat behind his desk, his violet eyes sharp and assessing as they met Azriel’s.

“Az,” Rhys greeted, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Glad you could finally join us.”

Azriel gave a curt nod, ignoring the playful jab about his tardiness. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up with some… business.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his gaze lingering on Azriel for a moment before he shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “No worries. We were just getting started.”

Azriel took a seat in one of the plush chairs by the fireplace, trying to push aside his exhaustion and focus on the discussion at hand. Rhysand began outlining the latest updates on trade routes, security measures, and potential threats from the borders. Azriel listened intently, his mind absorbing the details as he always did, but there was a part of him that remained distracted.

He couldn’t stop thinking about YN. The way she had looked last night, trying to soothe Knox while surrounded by the evidence of her return to work, haunted him. He hated that she had to go back to that place so soon after giving birth, hated that he couldn’t do more to ease her burden. But the reality of their situation left him with few choices. The secrecy of their relationship was paramount—not just for her safety, but for Knox’s as well.

As the conversation in Rhysand’s office shifted to more mundane matters, Azriel’s mind began to drift. He thought of YN’s smile, of the way her eyes lit up whenever she looked at their son. He thought of the nights they spent together, hidden away from the world, and how desperately he missed those moments of peace.

“…we could use a night out,” Rhysand said suddenly, his voice pulling Azriel back to the present. “It’s been too long since we’ve all just… relaxed. Had some fun. What do you say?”

Cassian grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m in. There’s not much to do around here after dark, though. Any ideas?”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his gaze sliding over to Azriel, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet. “Az? You’ve got that brooding look on your face. Any suggestions?”

Azriel hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind racing. He knew exactly where he wanted to go—where he needed to go—but the thought of bringing Rhysand and Cassian there, of risking them seeing YN, made his heart pound with anxiety. But he also knew that if he didn’t see her tonight, it would eat at him. He needed to make sure she was all right, needed to remind her that he was there for her, even if it had to be in secret.

“There’s a place in the Hewn City,” Azriel said slowly, his voice carefully measured. “It’s not exactly like the taverns here in Velaris, but it’s… interesting. Plenty of drinks, good music. A little different from what we’re used to.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The Hewn City? You’re serious?”

Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable. “Why not? It’s been a while since we’ve been down there, and it could be… fun.”

Cassian let out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d hear you suggest a night out in the Hewn City. But I’m not opposed to it. We could use a change of scenery.”

Rhysand studied Azriel for a moment, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to discern the reason behind the sudden suggestion. But Azriel’s face remained impassive, his shadows swirling lazily around him in a way that offered no clues.

“Alright,” Rhysand finally said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Let’s do it. A night in the Hewn City it is. Maybe we’ll stir up some trouble.”

Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread swirling within him. He knew it was risky, knew that being in the same room as YN while hiding their relationship would be agonizing. But he needed to see her, even if it was from a distance.

As they wrapped up their meeting and prepared to leave, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a knot of tension tightening in his gut. He had to be careful—had to make sure that neither Rhysand nor Cassian caught on to the true reason behind his suggestion. The thought of them finding out about YN and Knox, of the potential danger it could bring, was enough to make his blood run cold.

But for tonight, he would have to play his part. He would go to the Hewn City with his brothers, keep up the façade, and somehow find a way to check on YN without raising suspicion. It was a delicate balancing act, one that left him feeling more on edge than ever.

The Hewn City had never looked so alien and yet so oddly comforting. The architecture, with its dark, angular lines and oppressive shadows, felt both oppressive and familiar. Azriel led the way as he, Rhysand, and Cassian navigated through the labyrinthine streets, the trio cutting through the evening fog that clung to the air like a shroud.

The pleasure house, with its lavish façade and inviting yet illicit allure, stood in stark contrast to the grimy alleyways surrounding it. It was a place of excess and secrets, and Azriel was acutely aware of the mask he had to wear tonight. He was here to keep up appearances, to ensure that his personal life remained hidden while still satisfying his need to see YN.

As they entered the pleasure house, the atmosphere was immediately different—louder, more vibrant. The interior was opulent, with rich fabrics draped across the walls, low lighting casting a sultry glow, and the murmurs of patrons mingling with the strains of live music. Azriel’s heart quickened as he scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of YN.

Rhysand and Cassian were distracted by the surroundings, their eyes taking in the provocative displays and the carefully orchestrated sensuality of the environment. Azriel, however, remained focused, his gaze fixed on the server who moved gracefully through the room. It took a moment for him to catch sight of her, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat.

YN was dressed in the attire of the pleasure house—an outfit that accentuated her features while still remaining tantalizingly understated. The black satin cowl neck crop top, dark navy jewel-encrusted pants, and black heel sock boots all combined to create an appearance that was both alluring and vulnerable. She was carrying a tray of drinks, her movements fluid and practiced, her eyes scanning the room with a practiced detachment.

Azriel’s pulse quickened as he approached her, forcing himself to remain calm. He was here on official business, after all. The act he would need to maintain was a delicate one. Rhysand and Cassian followed closely behind, their curiosity piqued by the unusual location.

When YN finally approached their booth, her gaze flicked briefly over Azriel before she began her routine of serving the drinks. It was only when she neared their table that her eyes finally locked with his. Her expression didn’t change immediately; it remained a practiced mask of professionalism. But there was a brief, flickering moment of recognition that passed between them—a silent exchange of emotions that spoke volumes in an instant.

“Good evening,” YN said, her voice smooth and polite as she set down the drinks. “Can I get you anything else?”

Azriel cleared his throat, forcing himself into the role he had chosen. “This is YN,” he said, gesturing to her with a casual air. “When I’m here for business, she usually serves me.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Well, it’s certainly a different experience than what we’re used to. Do you have any recommendations, YN?”

YN offered a polite smile, her eyes never lingering too long on Azriel. “It depends on what you’re in the mood for. The house special is always a good choice. It’s popular for a reason.”

Cassian leaned back in his seat, his gaze wandering over the surroundings. “Sounds intriguing. I think we’ll take you up on that.”

As YN moved away to fulfill their order, Azriel watched her closely, noting how effortlessly she slipped back into her role. The act she was playing was flawless—she was all business, her demeanour cool and detached, just as it needed to be. But he could see the strain in her eyes, the subtle tension in her posture. It was a reminder of the sacrifices they both had to make to keep their relationship hidden.

When she returned with the drinks, Azriel allowed himself a moment of indulgence. “So, YN,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “I haven’t seen you around much lately. Where have you been?”

YN’s smile didn’t waver as she set the drinks on the table. “I’ve been here, just covering different shifts. We all rotate through different times, so you might have missed me.”

Azriel nodded, maintaining the pretence of casual curiosity. “Ah, I see. Well, it’s good to see you again.”

YN inclined her head slightly, her gaze flicking over to him with a fleeting softness before she turned her attention back to Rhysand and Cassian. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Rhysand shook his head, his attention momentarily diverted by the lively atmosphere around them. “No, we’re good for now, thanks.”

As YN moved away to attend to other patrons, Azriel felt a pang of longing. The way she carried herself, the way she interacted with him while keeping her professional mask firmly in place—it was a testament to the life they had to lead. It was a life of secrecy and sacrifice, one that left him both aching for her and filled with a deep, unspoken pride.

The evening wore on, and the pleasure house buzzed with activity. The soft music mingled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian continued their evening, each conversation and interaction designed to blend in seamlessly with the environment. But as the night progressed, Azriel found himself increasingly distracted by YN’s presence.

He had noticed her earlier, her graceful movements now tinged with a weariness that seemed to grow with each passing hour. She was doing her best to maintain her professional demeanour, but the exhaustion was evident in the slight droop of her shoulders and the faint shadow beneath her eyes.

Azriel felt a pang of sympathy as he watched her from across the room. The sight of her working so hard, so tirelessly, while still trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, tugged at his heart. He needed to see her up close, to make sure she was alright.

When YN’s shift brought her back to their booth, Azriel decided it was time to act. He raised a hand, catching her attention with a nod. “YN, can you come over here for a moment?”

YN approached their table, her steps steady but her fatigue evident. She offered a polite smile as she reached their booth. “Yes? Is there something you need?”

Azriel’s eyes softened with genuine concern as he looked at her. “I just wanted to check in. You seem a bit tired. How’s the shift been?”

YN glanced around, making sure there were no eavesdroppers. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s been… eventful. You wouldn’t believe the drama tonight.”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged curious glances, their attention piqued by the conversation. Azriel’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Oh? Do tell. I’m sure we could use some entertainment.”

YN sighed, her expression lightening slightly as she began to recount the day’s events. “Well, apparently there’s been a bit of a scandal with the staff. Some of the girls got caught up with this new money group in the area—supposedly they’re making quite a stir. It’s causing quite a bit of gossip.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A money group? Sounds like there’s more to it than just a bit of gossip.”

YN nodded, her smile a mix of amusement and frustration. “Oh, there is. They’re making a lot of waves, and not in a good way. The staff’s been buzzing about it all week, and it’s starting to affect our business.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and affection. “It sounds like you’ve had your hands full. Maybe you need a break.”

YN’s smile widened, but there was a hint of exhaustion still lingering in her eyes. “Maybe. But we all have to pull our weight, right?”

Rhysand and Cassian watched the exchange with growing interest. The playful banter between Azriel and YN was evident, and it was clear that there was more to their relationship than met the eye. Rhysand’s gaze flicked between them, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, while Cassian’s curiosity was piqued.

Azriel continued, his tone softening. “How have you been otherwise? It’s been a while since I last saw you.”

YN hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of sadness. “I was actually on maternity leave. Just came back tonight. My babe is only two weeks old, so it’s been a bit hectic.”

Azriel’s heart ached at the mention of their son. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew he had to keep up the pretence. “I’m sure it’s been a challenge. How’s everything at home?”

YN’s smile was faint but genuine. “It’s manageable. I’ve been living with my boyfriend, and he’s been helping out a lot. It’s just a lot to juggle right now.”

Rhysand’s curiosity was piqued by the mention of YN’s boyfriend, but he remained polite, offering a nod. “It sounds like you have your hands full. But I’m glad you’re back and that you’re managing.”

Cassian leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “So, you’re telling me you’ve got a little one and a boyfriend? And you still manage to look this good?”

YN’s cheeks flushed slightly, though she kept her composure. “Well, it’s not always easy, but you make do. Besides, a bit of distraction can be helpful.”

Azriel watched her, a mix of pride and longing in his eyes. The way she handled the conversation, the ease with which she maintained the façade—it was both impressive and heart-wrenching. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, to offer her the comfort and support she needed, but the world they lived in demanded otherwise.

As YN prepared to move on to her next table, Azriel reached out, lightly touching her hand. “Take care of yourself, okay? We’ll catch up soon.”

YN’s eyes softened, a brief flicker of something deeper passing between them before she nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

As YN moved away, Azriel forced himself to turn his attention back to Rhysand and Cassian. The playful banter and the hidden exchanges with YN had left him feeling both elated and frustrated. He had managed to keep their relationship under wraps, but the curiosity of his friends was a persistent challenge.

Rhysand, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression, broke the silence. “So, Az. How long have you been gathering information from this place? It seems like you’ve got a regular routine going here.”

Cassian nodded, his gaze sharp and inquisitive. “Yeah, you mentioned that YN usually serves you when you’re here. Is this part of your regular intel-gathering operations, or is there something specific that brought you here tonight?”

Azriel took a sip of his drink, buying himself a moment to carefully construct his response. He had to maintain the guise of a casual informant while keeping the true nature of his visits hidden.

“It’s been a while,” Azriel said, his tone nonchalant. “I’ve been coming here for a few months now, usually just to pick up some intelligence on local movements and activities. The Hewn City is a hub for a lot of different groups, and you never know what you might overhear.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? I didn’t realize it was such a hotspot for information. And you’ve been coming here regularly for several months?”

Azriel nodded, his expression remaining carefully neutral. “Yes, it’s been useful. There are always different factions and rumours circulating in places like this. It’s a good spot for gathering intel on various interests and keeping tabs on potential threats.”

Cassian’s gaze lingered on Azriel, a hint of scepticism in his eyes. “That’s quite the commitment. I would have thought it was more of a hit-and-miss kind of situation.”

Azriel offered a small, practiced smile. “It’s more about building relationships and understanding the dynamics at play. Sometimes you need to spend time in a place to get a real sense of what’s happening.”

Rhysand chuckled softly, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Well, I suppose it makes sense. You’ve always had a knack for finding out the details others might miss.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And you’ve never had any issues with your cover? It seems like you’ve managed to keep a low profile.”

Azriel shrugged, his demeanour relaxed. “It helps to blend in. As long as you know how to keep your ears open and your presence unobtrusive, you can gather quite a bit of information without drawing too much attention.”

Rhysand leaned forward, his gaze steady as he studied Azriel. “You seem quite at ease with the process. But I have to ask—why this place in particular? Is there something specific you’re looking for?”

Azriel took another sip of his drink, choosing his words with care. “Sometimes the most valuable information comes from the most unexpected sources. The Hewn City is a melting pot of various interests and players. It’s a good place to keep an eye on things.”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance, their curiosity clearly still piqued. But Azriel’s calm demeanour and plausible explanations seemed to satisfy their immediate questions. They turned their attention back to the lively environment around them, their focus shifting to the various aspects of the pleasure house’s offerings.

The music had softened to a gentle background hum, and the once bustling crowd had thinned to a few lingering patrons. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel remained seated in their booth, enjoying the last of their drinks while keeping an eye on the winding down process.

Azriel’s gaze frequently drifted to YN, who was busy tidying up the tables and ensuring that everything was in order for the next day. The exhaustion from her shift was evident in her movements, but she continued with a practiced efficiency. Her tiredness was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy she had shown earlier in the evening.

Harvey, the flamboyant bartender who had become something of a fixture in the pleasure house, was the last to join YN in the clean-up effort. His presence was unmistakable—his bright, eclectic attire and his easy-going demeanour made him stand out in any crowd. As he wiped down the bar, he exchanged light-hearted banter with YN, their camaraderie apparent in their interactions.

Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian finished their drinks and prepared to leave. The pleasure house was quieter now, the ambiance shifting from its earlier, more chaotic energy to a more subdued and intimate setting. The staff moved with practiced ease, their movements synchronized as they prepared to close for the night.

As the trio of males rose from their seats, Azriel cast a final glance towards YN and Harvey. The two of them were engaged in a conversation that seemed both relaxed and comforting, a brief respite from the demands of the night. Harvey’s animated gestures and YN’s soft laughter created a small bubble of warmth amidst the fading chaos.

“Looks like YN and Harvey are the last ones here,” Rhysand remarked, his eyes following Azriel’s gaze. “They’re certainly putting in the extra effort.”

Cassian grinned, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I’m surprised they’re still at it. They must be exhausted.”

Azriel nodded, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Yeah, they’ve had a long night. I’ll make sure they’re all right before we leave.”

As Rhysand and Cassian made their way towards the exit, Azriel lingered for a moment, watching YN and Harvey as they finished up. He walked over to where they were working, his presence catching YN’s attention.

“YN,” Azriel called softly, making his way over to the bar area. “Harvey.”

YN looked up, her expression shifting to a tired but genuine smile. “Azriel. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Azriel nodded, glancing around the almost empty room. “I thought I’d check in before we head out. You both look like you’re working hard.”

Harvey, who had been busy restocking the bar, looked up with a mischievous grin. “We’re just wrapping up. You know, keeping things in order for the next night of revelry.”

YN gave Harvey a playful nudge. “And Harvey’s making sure everything is sparkling clean. He has a bit of an obsession with the bar area.”

Harvey rolled his eyes theatrically, his smile never wavering. “Someone has to keep this place from looking like a disaster zone.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his gaze settling back on YN. “I appreciate the hard work. I know it’s been a long night.”

YN’s smile softened, though the fatigue was evident in her eyes. “It’s all part of the job. And besides, Harvey’s great company.”

Harvey gave a theatrical bow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Why, thank you, my dear. I do try to be entertaining.”

Azriel took a moment to watch their interaction, a mixture of affection and concern in his expression. He wanted to ensure that YN knew she had his support, even if it had to be expressed in subtle ways.

“Do you need any help finishing up?” Azriel offered, his tone genuine. “I don’t mind staying a bit longer if it means making things easier.”

YN shook her head, though her smile was grateful. “No need, Azriel. We’ve got it covered. But thank you.”

Harvey glanced at Azriel with a teasing smirk. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your glamorous night out. I’m sure the high lord and lord of bloodshed are waiting.”

Azriel nodded, his expression reflecting a mix of reluctance and understanding. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it then.”

As Azriel turned to leave, he paused, offering one last glance at YN and Harvey. The sight of them working together, the easy camaraderie between them, was a reminder of the world YN inhabited—a world that he could only access in fleeting moments.

“Goodnight, YN. Harvey,” Azriel said, his voice soft but sincere. “Take care.”

YN and Harvey both waved as Azriel headed towards the exit. The night had been a complex mix of professional duties and personal longing, and as he stepped out into the cool night air, he carried with him the weight of the secrets he had to keep and the brief, stolen moments of connection he had managed to share.

As he flew back to Velaris with Rhysand and Cassian, Azriel couldn’t help but reflect on the evening’s events. The pleasure house had provided both a necessary diversion and a poignant reminder of the delicate balance he had to maintain. The night was a testament to the complexities of his life—a life divided between duty and desire, between the public eye and the hidden realms of his heart.

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[hwaslayer]

butterflies (smg) | one shot.

—summary: life with your husband & daughter is always full of butterflies.

—pairing: song mingi x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) established relationship/marriage, parents au | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language (away from the baby!), quick neck/shoulder massage, innocent shower lol, lots of sweet kisses/making out!, unprotected sex, missionary, cowgirl, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sprinkle of breast play, multiple orgasms (two), it's incredibly soft and sweet smut though!!

—a/n: happy birthday to our mingi mangi, but also - happy birthday to my entire soul, my favorite person in the world, my other half @persphonesorchid. i love you more than you can even comprehend!!! 💞 whipped this up as a secret little bday present hehe

—on rotation: butterflies pt. 2 x queen naija

“Daddy!” Harin squeals when Mingi plops the tiny pancake onto her pink princess plate, setting the pan aside so he could place blueberries in a shape of a happy face.

“There, babygirl. All done!” He smiles at her and gives her a kiss on the top of her head. 

“No!” She pouts and points towards the fridge.

“You don’t like it?” It’s Mingi’s turn to pout.

“It's not done.”

“Hm.” Mingi hums as he stands there with his hands on his hips, pondering on what the 3 yr old is trying to tell him. Then, it suddenly dawns on him, snapping his fingers in the sudden revelation. “Ah! You’re right. I’m sorry, daddy’s fault.” He says, taking the can of whipped cream out of the fridge. “Here.” He chuckles, spraying a bit around the edges. “Better now, right?”

“Mhm.” Harin nods as smiles up at him, eyes twinkling as the three year old looks at him in pure adoration. She was daddy’s girl, and daddy’s girl at best. 

At this point, you’ve headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, watching your husband plop a small amount of whip cream on your daughter’s tiny little nose before she does the same on his cheek. You giggle as Mingi swipes the tiny trail of whip cream with his finger, plopping some more onto her nose.

Butterflies.

It’s the way Mingi looks at her like she’s his entire universe, like he adores her and loves her more than words could ever capture. It’s the way Harin constantly yearns for him and asks for his company, his jokes— making him smile and laugh in return because of her silly antics.

They give you butterflies.

“Mommy!” Harin is a giggling mess as she lays eyes on you, her dad smiling innocently off to the side.

“Daddy making a mess, huh?” She sticks her tongue out to try and lick the cream from the tip of her nose. “Silly girl.” You chuckle as you wipe her nose with a napkin.

“Goodmorning, beautiful.” Mingi pulls you close and smiles down at you, brushing the hair out of your face before kissing your forehead. “Sleep okay?”

“I think so? I think a need a new pillow. My neck is kinda bothering me.”

“Hm. Does it hurt pretty bad?” Mingi asks as he turns to grab your plate and hands it to you. “Made you a plate, by the way.”

“Thanks, baby.” You press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before sitting beside Harin. “And no, nothing a new pillow can’t fix. I think.” You shrug and settle down to eat.

“I’m sorry, love. Maybe I can give you a massage later to help?”

“If you’re not too busy.” You smirk as he sets his plate down and sits on the opposite side of Harin.

“Never.” He begins to dig in just as you do. “So, what does the princess wanna do today?” Mingi turns to Harin and she laughs.

“Can we go to the park please, Daddy?” 

“You wanna go to the park?”

“Mhm, with mommy too.”

“With mommy, too?” He repeats animatedly. “Sounds like a plan to me.” You laugh a bit as you brush Harin’s hair back and let her finish eating. 

“Okay, lovebug. We’ll go on a walk and head to the park together, but you’ll need to finish your food first.” You boop her nose. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

“There you go!” You cheer her on to make her laugh. 

Her laugh brings you butterflies.

Once the three of you have wrapped up with breakfast, Mingi takes the plates and washes it along with the bowl and pan he used to make breakfast this morning. It’s a crisp, cool morning, but nothing entirely unbearable. You’re dressed in a loose cropped sweater and sweats, while Mingi is in a shirt and track pants. He helps Harin into a light jacket and puts a beanie over her head, locking the door behind him once he’s gotten you both out of the door. 

The park is a close walk from the house, and it’s Harin’s favorite park of all time. The play structure is huge and updated, with features that most playgrounds nearby don’t have. For a minute, she’s walking in between you and Mingi, holding the both of your hands until she requests to be propped up on Mingi’s shoulders.

He willingly does it without complaint, always doing his best to make you and Harin the happiest.

When your family arrives at the park, there's only two other children playing around— giving Harin the ability to make use of her time at the playground wisely. Mingi joins along and plays with her, never showing signs of exhaustion or boredom even when he follows her around. He pushes her on the swings, plays tag with her, helps her down the ‘big girl slide’ and helps her cross the monkey bars confidently.

He is the sweetest, and even as time goes on, the butterflies you feel for this man only seem to increase— never dies, never goes away.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Harin yells for you at the end of the monkey bars, both your husband and daughter waving and yelling that she’s made it to the end. You laugh and eventually join in on their playground shenanigans before the hour quickly flies by.

Luckily, Harin must have enjoyed herself a little too much that she doesn’t complain when it’s time to go. She happily hops back onto Mingi’s shoulders as they sing a song with you on the way back home, running into the bathroom for a quick wash-up before plopping onto her usual seat at the dining table for a small snack.

You clean around in the kitchen, occasionally watching as she eats away at her strawberry snack bar. It doesn’t take long before she’s exhibiting signs of exhaustion and sleepiness:

One, she continues to rub away at her eyes.

Two, she begins to mumble her responses and pouts more than usual.

Three, she constantly asks for her dad to hold her.

“Alright, let’s get you outta here and into bed, babygirl.” He lifts her in one swift motion, bringing her over to you for a quick kiss. Once Mingi disappears upstairs and into Harin’s room, you finish up in the kitchen and head to your room to rest a bit. You change into shorts and a cropped tee once you’ve stepped inside, plopping onto the bed to get comfortable in the meantime.

“Phew.” Mingi says, quietly stepping into your room and shutting the door. “She knocked out quick. As soon as I tucked her in and gave her a kiss, she was out like a light.” You giggle.

“She had a blast at the park. She’ll have a good nap.”

“Yeah, she will.” Mingi plops onto the bed next to you as you try to sit back against the wall and put on a show to indulge in— feeling content with the fact that you don’t have much to do around the house today.

“Babe, we do need to get groceries when Harin wakes up though.”

“Okay.” He looks up at you as he continues to lay on his stomach at a weird angle on the bed, his hands gently tracing circles on your knee. “But, we have an hour? Maybe an hour and a half, until she wakes up? What can I do for you?” He places a quick kiss against your knee. “Neck still bothering you?”

“Kinda?”

“You sure it’s just your pillow?” Mingi looks at you with concern. He knows you’ve been having some rough, long days at work; though, you’re incredibly great at masking it because you don’t ever wanna bring that stress home.

He knows you, and he knows you well.

After all, you are his other half.

“Maybe? I think I’ve just been exhausted from work overall.”

“Come here.” He finally gets up and fixes his position, motioning for you to settle in between his legs. You comfortably sit with your legs crossed, while Mingi begins to massage your neck and shoulders; easing the knots you have felt from the past days. “Does this feel okay?”

“It feels perfect.” You breath out while his hands continue to do the work. You feel his breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

“Good.” He chuckles as he watches you shift in your position, enjoying every moment of this surprise massage from Mingi. “What else can I do for you, love?” He asks softly, close to a whisper. “Can I make you feel better in any other way?”

“Hm.” You hum, his voice hitting a certain feeling in your gut, hitting you down to your core. “You make me feel better, Mingi. Just having you is enough." He hears the way your tone dips a bit, catches the way you subtly bite onto your lip and expose your neck more. He smiles to himself when your body continues to relax in his hold— lips grazing the surface of your shoulder, the nape of your neck.

“Yeah?” He finally plants a few kisses on your shoulders, moving to your neck, gently nibbling on your earlobe. “Does that make you feel better?” He hears the sigh you let out, feeling your hands rest along his thighs. “Or, this?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

“Babe, Harin.”

“The princess won’t wake up. I promise.” He chuckles a bit. “Let me take care of you.” 

“You always do.” You slightly turn to him and meet his eyes. He stares at you for a second, eyes darting between your lips, eyes, nose, mouth— everything about you that brings him butterflies. He smiles and brushes your hair back before caressing your cheek with his thumb, allowing you to sink into the palm of his hand and melt in his touch.

“And I’ll continue to do it, time and time again.” He responds. “Come here, baby.” Mingi brings your chin forward to kiss you on the lips, wasting no time to deepen the kiss. He swipes his tongue at your bottom lip before biting down and pulling back with a gentle tug. He quickly chases after your lips, tongue now dancing with yours and fighting for dominance. He lets out a soft sigh against you, moving you in between kisses so that he has you pinned to the mattress and underneath him.

God, you look good underneath him. 

Butterflies.

“So beautiful.” He mumbles against your skin, moving down to pepper kisses on the other side of your neck. You let out a small whimper when his hands trace the hem of your cropped tee, giving him full permission to remove it. He tosses it to the side, fumbling with your bralette next. You giggle when Mingi pauses and furrows his brows, not finding the hooks on the back like your usual bras. “Where’d they go?” He pouts a bit.

“I wore my lazy bra today.” You continue to laugh as you remove the bralette and toss it aside to join your shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Shouldn’t have worn one at all.” He smirks against your lips before diving in for another kiss.

“Definitely had to for the park.” 

“You wore a loose sweater anyway, pretty girl. Nobody had to know.” You chuckle at his remarks, running your fingers through his hair. He makes his way down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on the surface before moving down to your breasts. You let out a tiny gasp when his tongue circles a hardened bud, closing in on it and pulling back with a pop. He repeats his motions on the other, taking more time when he feels you squirm underneath him. He plants a trail of kisses down your sternum— to your stomach, reaching your waist. His hands settle on either side of your cotton shorts, meeting your eyes as he tugs both your shorts and panties down and sets them aside. 

You are so beautiful.

Everything about you gives him butterflies.

“Fuck.” He lets out a breath. “How’d I get so lucky?” You shyly smile when you hear him ask while removing his shirt, settling in between your thighs in no time. His thumb is planted on your clit, easing in with a slow, circular pace. He watches as you slightly arch your back in response to his touch, biting onto your lip when he picks up his pace. He lowers his lips onto you, other hand settled against your inner thigh to keep you open for him. His tongue laps at your clit just as he inserts two fingers to prep you, spending his time just to continuously build that pressure for you. “Already so wet.”

“Mingi.” You call for his name as you tighten the grip on his hair, his fingers pumping in and out of you and keeping a steady pace. He continues his work, licking down every bit of you until he feels your breathing quicken, chest heaving up and down as your legs almost try to close him in.

“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against you, hearing you let out a moan when you cum around his digits. “Good girl.” He praises, slowing down to give you time to gather yourself. He smiles and plants a kiss on your inner thigh before shedding off his sweats, aching to be inside of you sooner than later.

“God.” You whimper, watching him as he pumps himself a few times.

“Ready for me?” He lowers himself and whispers against your lips, hand still gripping his cock— running his tip in between your folds, nudging your clit to tease you.

“Yes. Need you.” The moment the statement leaves your lips, Mingi is inserting himself into you; the both of you let out silent moans against your lips, Mingi easing himself in until he bottoms out. He stills for a second, adjusting to the feeling— to you— relishing in every bit of the moment.

It’s the way you feel against him, the way your eyes flutter, the way you grip his biceps.

“Babe, please move.” You plead as Mingi presses his forehead against yours. He nods, beginning to work his hips at a slow pace while keeping his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Shit.” He lets out a moan. “You feel so good.” He picks up the pace, hitting you in all the right spots—

In and out.

Deeply, passionately.

You moan against him when he snaps his hips against yours, steadying the headboard with a hand as much as possible. Your nails are digging into him, and he loves every fucking bit of this.

The way you arch against him, feeling your warmth against his.

The way your eyes roll back every time he hits a spot.

The way you chase after his slips for a sloppy kiss in between the whines you let out.

You are perfectly crafted by the stars, holding the universe in your eyes, down to every inch of your body.

Mingi’s thumb starts to circle your clit just as he feels your walls clenching tighter around him. 

“Just like that.” You breathe out. “Mingi, please.” You beg and beg, hoping he’ll continue to work his way with you. You feel your stomach start to tighten, the coil within you threatening to unravel soon. Suddenly, Mingi removes his thumb from your sensitive nub— only to rest back on his ankles and let you sit on him. You carefully wrap your legs and arm around him while he kisses you, not wanting to break away from his lips. He has a hand tangled in your hair, while the other navigates down to your hip and gently encourages you to rock against him.

“Baaaby.” He hisses and breaks away from the kiss. “So fucking good. So perfect for me.” He continues to praise you as you roll against him, building enough friction to heighten the pleasure you feel. 

“Fuck— ” You whine as Mingi sucks on your neck. You tug on the ends of his hair just as you quicken your pace, feeling yourself tipping over the edge. “Gonna cum—” You moan, probably a little too loud for your liking, but it is what it is; you’re too into your man at this moment.

“Let go for me.” He says before letting out a low groan. “Let me feel you.” And in a two, three deep rolls against him, you find yourself unraveling at the same time Mingi fills you up. Mingi holds you close as you tremble against him, watching as your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his back as you let everything go. He caresses your back and runs his fingers down your spine, planting sweet kisses on your cheek, eyes, nose, lips.

Anything to ease you, soothe you.

“You okay?” He chuckles as he brushes your hair back and kisses you once more. 

“Mhm.” He looks at you so tenderly and lovingly that it drives you crazy, wondering how lucky you were to have him and Harin in this thing called life.

He will always give you butterflies.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He helps you off and leads you into the bathroom for a quick shower together. Mingi continues to shower you with love, peppering you with feathery kisses in between soaping you up and rinsing you off. Once you’ve both gotten cleaned up, you throw on some comfier clothes to prepare for the rest of the afternoon, while Mingi—

“Daddy.” The both of you hear Harin call for him. “Daddy?” She repeats with a slight whine, and you can only imagine the pout she’s sporting while waiting for her dad to come and get her.

“That definitely wasn’t an hour, babe.” He laughs a bit as he tosses on a new hoodie and matching sweats.

“Close enough.” He swings the door and finds Harin standing near her room in the hallway, waiting for Mingi to swoop her up into his arms.

“Had a good nap, princess?” You hear Mingi ask as he holds Harin in his arms and walks into your room. 

“Mhm.” She rubs away at her eyes before they land on you and she smiles. “Hi mommy.”

“Aw, sweet thing. Hi babygirl.” You walk over and kiss her on the cheek while rubbing her back. “You ready to have a little snack and head to the store with mommy and daddy?”

“Yes. May I have yogurt, please?” You giggle hearing her politely ask for her favorite snack. She gives you butterflies.

“Yogurt it is!” Mingi answers animatedly as he bounces her in his arms. “We’ll meet you downstairs?” He looks at you. “Does mommy need a snack too? I think she’s a little tired.” You playfully hit him on the arm and shake your head.

“No. I’ll be there.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your forehead and heads downstairs with Harin, making you chuckle to yourself as the two hum another song together.

They always give you butterflies.

[s0urw00lf]

You matter too

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sister!reader, Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: Your heart breaks a little more when you run into Sam and dean (your brothers) after being casted out by your father years before his death.

Warnings: angst, being disowned, familial heart ache.

When you got home from work you immediately kicked off your heels, ridding yourself of the strain they had put on your feet all day. You looked around your apartment noting how dark it was ‘Aaron must not be home’ you thought to yourself, making your way through the darkness to your bedroom and into the closet, hastily changing into more comfortable clothes you tried to give yourself some relaxation and comfort after your hard day at work dealing with that asshole mark who couldn’t mind his business to save his damn life. You wished Arron was home so you could curl up to him and rant about how much you wanted to strangle that CEO asshole with his tie.

Exiting your closet you sighed, making your way to the kitchen to find something to eat before you heard what sounded like your glass potted plant fall over. Immediately you tensed, stopping all movements, pausing your breath as you strained to hear anything else. When you heard hushed voices it sent you into full throttle. You quickly but quietly made your way to your bed and pulled out the coffin-sized box filled with guns and ammunition and grabbed your shotgun mentally thanking god that you kept it loaded, not wasting any time you slowly tiptoed out of your bedroom looking around the corner and your heart dropped when you spotted to decently sized men seemingly in a disagreement.

“Are you sure this is it?” The shorter one asked, “yes this is the address he gave us” the taller one said, and again your heart dropped. This could be anybody coming to make you pay your dues. After you’d been practically disowned by your father you’ve been on your own since 15, and of course, you’ve made some very stupid choices and gotten in with the wrong people. Now 20 with a full-time job and career you figured your past had finally caught up with you. With your heart racing you stepped out from your hiding place and quickly jumped on the one closest to you, harshly pressing the pressure point in his neck rendering him unconscious, you let him fall and put all of your attention on the taller one, you cocked your gun and pointed it at his forehead and he did the same to you. “You’ve got .3 seconds to tell me what you want before I put a bullet in your brain” you threatened.

You couldn’t see the man's face in the darkness especially since his back was facing the window, his tall frame cast a shadow over you. Your heart raced in your ears “3” you began counting, and quickly the man dropped his hand holding the gun. “2” you continued in confusion, as you started with the last number the man in front of you said your name. You paused in shock, nobody you dealt with in the past knew your real name, you weren’t that stupid. Nobody outside of your family and your boyfriend knew your real name. “Who are you” you questioned, moving your finger to the trigger. “Y/n it's me” the man spoke quickly. And for what you doubt would be the last time that night. Your heart stopped. But not in fear, this time it was in shock. You backed up making your way towards the light switch, keeping your gun pointed at his head. When you flicked on the light and it filled the room your tense frame immediately softened. “Sam,” you said, in shock.

He awkwardly smiled and sent you a wave “Hey” he said, you stared at him, taking him in. The last you saw him, right before he went to college he was skinnier and a little shorter. He seemed to be doing the same thing with you. “You’re so grown up” You nodded awkwardly. Just then it dawned on you that he hadn’t come alone, you circled the couch blocking your view of the man you knocked unconscious. Immediately when your eyes set on him your heart tightened in guilt, “oh god Dean” you said dropping your gun and falling to your knees assessing his head, which had been bleeding. He probably hit his head on the coffee table on his way down. Just as you sat down Dean began to groan, you sat back as his eyes opened, seemingly adjusting to the light before setting his eyes on you. His face immediately changed, and you couldn’t tell what the expression meant. After spending a little over five years away from him you were practically strangers.

“Hey kid,” he said, groaning as she sat up. You winced “not much of a kid anymore if you haven’t noticed” you said. You stood up, looking back and forth between your two older brothers. “What’re you doing here?” You asked folding your arms. Dean stood up joining Sam, awkwardly standing in the middle of your living room. They both looked at each other, silently debating who would be the one to talk, unfortunately, the torch fell into Dean's hands “We wanted to see you” he said with an idiotic smile. You tilted your head not believing him for one second “Then why didn’t you use the door like a normal person” you asked. Dean awkwardly laughed quickly glancing at Sam who rolled his eyes “We need your help finding Dad” he said. You smiled bitterly “Ah, there it is,” you said. You moved over to your kitchen, resuming your task of finding something to eat.

“C'mon y/n don’t be like-“Dean started but you cut him off. “Like what?!” You turned around and shouted at him. “Don’t act like you don’t care, our father is missing-“Dean said, but was cut off by Sam this time “Dean-“ he started but was cut off by you walking toward him. “No, that's where you’re wrong, that is not my father. Maybe a small part of the reason I’m here but he.Is.not.my.father” you seethed. “So what were not your brothers now?” Dean said raising his voice a little bit. “I don’t know, are you dean? Because I don’t recall you reaching out in the past five years. I don’t recall you fighting for me to come home. You wanna know what I recall?” You asked stepping closer to him. Sam watched from behind Dean, he wasn’t there when you were kicked out but he wished he was. “I recall being hated by that man. The unwanted bastard child of John Winchester, that's what I was. And that day he left me at that motel I begged you to stay with me. Not to leave me and you did. I watched you drive away into the sunset while I sat alone in this big world full of monsters wondering how I'd survive alone at fifteen.” Tears began to flood your eyes, as you relived the heartbreak you tried to bury for five years.

“Five years. No calls, no visits, nothing. I was alone and I had to learn how to survive alone Dean and you weren’t there, so I tried to go visit Sam” you said, teary eyes cutting over to Sam, “but he didn’t want anything to do with me, wouldn’t even hear me out as I begged and pleaded for him too. But nope he sent me away, just like john, just like you,” you said trying your best not to sob in front of your brothers. “My big brothers, who promised to protect me, who swore to me that no harm would ever come my way as long as you were alive.”

Sam and Dean stood in front of you, both of their eyes were teary and you didn’t feel the least bit bad, you were happy they were feeling even a fraction of what you felt all those years ago. “John never wanted another kid let alone a daughter, he took me in because he had to. And it took me a while to realize that the same applies to you too” you said, your voice cracked as tears poured freely from your eyes. The silence that followed your statement was deafening. Neither of your brothers could even start to fathom what you’d been through in the time you were alone. The silence was cut when your front door opened, you quickly turned around and rushed to meet your boyfriend at the door. “Hey honey how- why are you crying?” He asked worriedly cupping your cheeks and whipping your tears. Instead of saying anything, you dragged him to the opening of the apartment so he could see for himself. “Family reunion” you whispered so only he could hear. His face immediately changed into pity.

Aaron knew your past having come from a slightly similar background. You turned to Sam and Dean, who hadn’t moved from their spot “You have a-” “boyfriend yeah” you cut Sam off wiping your tears. Glancing from them to Arron who was just shocked. Dean stepped forward, seemingly to play protective older brother, and for some reason, you didn’t stop him. Because even after the hurt they’d caused you, some part of you, maybe that small 15-year-old you, still wanted your big brothers in your life.

Surprisingly to you, Dean didn’t say anything to you, Aaron, he came to embrace you. Sam followed quickly after and joined the hug. Right there and then, you felt all of your hatred and anger towards them melt away. Neither of them was in the clear, but you didn’t want to go the rest of your life hating your brothers because they were too afraid to stand up to your dad. You knew they had their reasons, and even some things couldn’t be placed on John but you were willing to give it a shot at rekindling the relationship you had with them.

Your boyfriend stood behind you watching happily as you embraced your brothers, it was the most relaxed he’d ever seen you and he wanted to keep seeing you in said state. Sam pulled away first, then Dean did and you all stared at each other. “I’m sorry kid, every day after we left you I tried to find you but you were too good, I resented Dad for years after that, and even started hunting on my own because I couldn’t look him in the face and stand the fact that he left you and I didn’t say a damn thing about it,” dean said, the sincerity was shown on his face, and you knew dean was never one to show hid emotions ore even apologize at that, but you could see that he meant every word that spilled out of his mouth.

Sam apologized next “I i wish id known that's why you were there, I thought Dad had talked you into talking me into coming home, and I knew if you did that I would have come without second thought.” He said. You couldn’t find anything to say. You brought them in for another hug, squeezing them as tight as you could before pulling away. you looked at Aaron who stood behind you with a smile on his face “Sam, Dean, this is Aaron, my boyfriend” you said introducing them. Sam was the first to step forward to shake Aaron’s hand “Nice to meet you man” he said with a smile. “You too” Aaron replied. Dean shook his hand next, as much as he wanted to play that overprotective role, he hadn’t earned that right so he played fair and shook his hand giving Aaron a tight-lipped smile.

The three of you knew you had a long way to go, but you were happy to begin the journey.

[weevil-wallflower]

A Jedi & A Droid

Cal Kestis x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Your life was never the same after You stumbled upon another Jedi and a droid.

Warnings/Tags: No warnings, SFW, hurt/comfort, minor angst, fluff, mutual pining, no use of Y/N, no pronouns used, pre/during Jedi: Survivor, minor spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: My third entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! Prompts: Day 3 - Droid & Day 4 - "We shouldn't be doing this".

I am so late but responsibilities called! Also, this story, initially meant to be simple, got wayyy out of hand and turned into a combination of little snippets. So a bit of a wordy one but I am so happy to finally write this, as the idea had been sitting in my drafts for so long plus I really enjoyed writing it! I think this is one of my best stories yet :3 Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~6,800

After the crew of the Mantis had split apart, Cal found himself adrift in the galaxy with only BD-1 by his side, spending years drifting between missions and without a crew—a family. While working for Saw Gerrera, he had formed strong friendships with fellow rebels; Gabs, the Klatooinian twins Koob and Lizz, and Bravo. However, it never felt quite the same. He longed for the camaraderie and companionship he had once known, yearning for a friend, a family and perhaps even a partner, to share in their journey’s hardships and victories.

Then, one fateful day, while Cal and BD-1 were navigating through a crowded spaceport, they came across You—running desperately from a squad of unrelenting stormtroopers. Cal's sharp senses detected the hurry in your movements and the terror in your expression as You ran through the packed streets, desperately trying to evade capture.

Without hesitation, Cal leapt into action, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he made his way through the chaotic crowds, dodging blaster fire and weaving through narrow alleyways in pursuit of You. Out of breath, he finally caught up to You, halting You in your tracks and reached out a hand to offer his help.

“Come with us!” The redhead urged, his voice firm yet reassuring as he glanced back at the approaching stormtroopers. “We have a ship. We can help you escape.”

Despite the opportunity presented before You, You hesitated, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty as You weight your options.

“I’m not getting in a stranger’s ship!” You protested, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Cal’s gaze softened, understanding the gravity of your situation as he met your gaze with unwavering determination.

“You have a better idea?” He asked, his tone gentle yet firm as he kept his hand extended towards You.

You still appeared hesitant but the thunderous footsteps of the approaching stormtroopers and the urgent “Beep-bo-beep!” from the droid perched on the redhead’s back sealed the deal, making You choose the lesser of two evils. With a slight nod, You reached out to take the redhead’s hand, feeling a sense of trust and reassurance wash over You like a wave. Was it the Force trying to tell You something? You had no time to dwell on it, however, as Cal led You to his ship.

As the three of you boarded the Mantis, Cal’s eyes widened with excitement when they fell on the lightsaber strapped to your side, realisation dawning on him.

“You’re a Jedi!” He exclaimed, surprise apparent in his voice. “That’s why those Imps were after you.”

The knowledge brought him some hope, knowing that he had finally found another Jedi besides Cere, after all these years.

You simply nodded and hesitantly took the offered co-pilot seat as the ship soared through the vast outer space. You were unable to shake the feeling of apprehension that gripped You. The knowledge that Cal now knew You were a Jedi filled You with a sense of unease, knowing all too well the dangers that come with being hunted throughout the Galaxy. The thought of bounty hunters and Imperial forces closing in on You sent a shiver down your spine, and You couldn’t help but wonder if trusting Cal was a mistake.

However, as You stole a glance at him while he piloted the ship, You noticed something that caught You off guard—a lightsaber attached to his belt, just like yours. Your eyes widened in surprise as You turned to face him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you… are you also a Jedi?” You asked, your voice full of uncertainty.

Cal’s face lit up with a smile, his green eyes sparkling with excitement and happiness.

“Yes, I am!” He exclaimed, voice full of joy. “I can’t believe I’ve finally found another Jedi!”

“Me too…” You whispered as the revelation sent a wave of relief washing over You. And sure enough, You felt his Force signature resonate around You, feeling his resilience, determination and a strong connection to the Light Side of the Force. However, while the signature carried traces of sorrow and grief, You were surprised by how warm and comforting it felt, enveloping You like a protective blanket. You were unable to remember the last time You felt someone’s Force signature—much less one as soothing. The feeling replaced your earlier apprehension with a sense of solidarity and companionship, relieved to know that You were not alone.

However, it still took time for You to feel comfortable around Cal, despite his warm demeanor and infectious enthusiasm. But slowly over time, You found yourself gradually opening up to the redhead, sharing stories of your past and your hopes for the future. Yet, a lingering sense of caution remained, a barrier that felt insurmountable at times.

But BD-1, Cal’s loyal droid friend, proved to be a source of comfort and solace during those moments of uncertainty. Seeing how happy Cal was once more, all because of your presence on board, BD-1 went out of his way to make You feel welcome with his cheerful chirps and friendly demeanour, offering You small gifts and gestures of kindness that never failed to bring a smile to your face.

And as You watched the little droid trot around the ship, trilling with excitement, You couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. His efforts to make You feel comfortable and at ease did not go unnoticed, and You found yourself growing fond of BD-1 in return.

Cal, too, noticed the bond that was forming between the both of you, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his droid friend bringing joy and laughter into your life like he did for him. Seeing You happy lifted Cal’s spirits in ways he couldn’t fully explain, and he found himself opening up to You even more, sharing his hopes and fears with a newfound sense of trust and vulnerability.

Overall, BD-1’s efforts to make You feel comfortable and welcome were essential in helping You overcome your initial apprehension and form strong bonds of friendship with Cal and the droid. There were numerous instances which contributed to strengthening your bond with both of them.

One day, Cal and BD-1 ventured out on a mission while You agreed to stay behind on the Mantis to look after it and to provide backup support if needed. But when the duo failed to return when they should have, a sense of worry began to settle deep in your mind. Especially when You were unable to contact them via the comms. Time appeared to stretch on endlessly as You waited for their return, each minute that passed only made your concern grow. Feeling restless, You paced the length of the ship, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as You anxiously awaited their safe return.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, just when You contemplated going out to search for them, You heard footsteps and beeping sounds. You quickly rushed down the ramp to be greeted by the sight of Cal, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. Your worries melted away in an instant as You ran over to greet him.

“Cal, you’re back!” You exclaimed, relief evident in your voice.

The redhead grinned wearily, his expression softened by your sight. “Hey…” He greeted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Sorry for the delay. We ran into a bit of trouble out there.”

Before You could respond, BD-1 chirped excitedly, leaping down from Cal's back and presented You with a tiny gift he ejected from his stim dispenser. With a delighted giggle, You accepted the gift, a simple trinket made from scavenged materials—a token of BD-1's affection and friendship.

As You thanked the little droid for the thoughtful gesture, Cal couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before him.

"Well, it looks like BeeDee gets all the attention," he quipped, his tone light-hearted as he approached you. "No warm welcome for a valiant hero like me, huh?"

You grinned at his playful remark, thankful that despite the dangers they faced on their mission, Cal and BD-1 had returned safely, and that was all that mattered in the end.

As you all walked back inside the Mantis together, Cal's arm draped casually over your shoulder, You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over You. And when BD-1 chirped happily beside You, You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together as a team.

Another day, You remember sitting alone in the quiet solitude of your quarters at the back of the Mantis. With the weight of loneliness and longing pressing heavy on your heart, You couldn't help but feel the ache of missing your long-gone family and friends. Memories of happier times filled your mind, each recollection a bittersweet reminder of the bonds You had lost to the war of the Galaxy.

Meanwhile, out in the common area of the ship, Cal paced back and forth with furrowed brows, his concern for You evident in the worried lines etched upon his face. He had sensed your melancholy from the moment You had withdrawn to your quarters, and despite his best efforts to coax You out of your seclusion, You had insisted that You were fine, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

But BD-1, after sensing your distress, took it upon himself to cheer You up. With a soft chirp, the little droid scuttled into your quarters, carrying an assortment of gifts and trinkets.

You looked up when BD-1 dropped the presents at your feet, startled by the unexpected intrusion. But when You gazed into the droid’s photoreceptor lenses, You noticed something—empathy, compassion and a silent invitation to share in his company.

With a small smile, you reached out to accept the gifts that BD-1 had brought for You, each one a small token of friendship and comfort in the midst of your loneliness. A handcrafted charm bracelet, a bundle of aromatic herbs, and a holorecording of soothing music—all thoughtfully chosen to lift your spirits and ease the ache in your heart.

As You held the gifts close to your heart, a wave of gratitude washed over You, grateful for the droid’s unwavering support and companionship.

When Cal noticed BD-1 entering your quarters, he longed to join in as well, wanting to do everything he could to make You feel better and suddenly, an idea came to him. Quickly, he brewed a cup of your favorite caf, its rich aroma filling the air. With each measured step, he poured his heart into the simple act of preparing the beverage, hoping that it will bring You some solace in the midst of your turmoil.

As the redhead slowly walked into your quarters with the steaming cup in hand, he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of the little droid’s offerings laid out before You on your bed. He was grateful for BD-1’s presence, knowing that the little droid was looking after You in his own unique way, offering You comfort when You needed it the most.

When You saw Cal enter your quarters with hesitant steps, You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest at the sight of him. The small, sympathetic smile he wore tugged at your heartstrings, and as You watched him walk closer, your lips curved into a small smile of your own.

Slowly, Cal extended the cup towards You, his gesture a silent offering of support and understanding. And as You accepted the cup of caf, You felt a sense of gratitude, knowing that with Cal and BD-1 present, You were never truly alone, even in your moments of solitude. Their presence and unwavering support filled the room with a comforting sense of companionship that eased the ache in your heart.

When Cal moved to leave You to your thoughts, as You had requested earlier, a sudden impulse seized You. “ Cal, wait!” You called out, surprising yourself with the words.

Turning back to face You, the redhead’s expression was one of curiosity, his eyes searching yours.

“Would you… would you mind staying here for a while?” You asked, your voice soft with uncertainty. “I could use the company…”

A flicker of emotion passed through Cal’s eyes; a mixture of surprise, gratitude and something deeper You couldn’t quite recognise. With a small nod, he settled into the seat opposite You, his presence along with BD-1’s providing reassurance amidst your troubled thoughts.

And as you all sat together in the comfort of your quarters, the warmth of the caf and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air, slowly dissipating the tension from earlier. With each passing moment, You found yourself drawn deeper into the warmth of Cal’s presence, the sound of his deep voice soothing your worries.

As You listened to him speak, your gaze wandered, taking in the details of his appearance with a newfound appreciation. His fiery red hair, the brightest You had ever seen, seemed to glow in the soft light of the room.

His green eyes, so vibrant and full of life, sparkled with intelligence and kindness, drawing You in with their magnetic charm. And as You met his gaze, You found yourself captivated by the depth and warmth that lay within them, a reflection of the soul that resided behind those beautiful emerald orbs.

His freckles, scattered like constellations across his sun-kissed skin, added to his charm, giving him an air of boyish innocence that belied the immense strength and resilience he possessed. And though his face carried the marks of battles fought and hardships endured, each scar only served to enhance his rugged allure, a testament to the trials and tribulations he had overcome over the years.

While You took in the sight of him, bathed in the soft glow of the room, You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration wash over You. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of his presence, You knew that You were in the presence of someone truly special—a friend, a confidant, and perhaps something more.

As time went on and the bond between You and the duo deepened, You developed a deep, almost parental affection for the little droid, despite not understanding what he said half the time. Often, in moments of excitement or tenderness, You found yourself affectionately calling BD-1 "Beebee" or "BB-1," much to Cal’s amusement.

During one particularly heartwarming moment by the campfire during a stop on Bogano, as Cal's hand brushed against yours and the stars twinkled overhead, You couldn't resist reaching out to BD-1 with a soft smile.

"Come here, Beebee," You cooed, beckoning the droid closer.

BD-1 chirped happily, nuzzling against your side with a warmth that made your heart swell.

Cal chuckled at the endearing nickname, his eyes crinkling with affection as he observed the exchange.

"You're my little bebe!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your adoration for the droid, causing Cal's laughter to fill the air, a melodic sound that echoed through the night.

"You're going to spoil him with all that love," he teased, his playful tone only adding to the warmth of the moment.

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment wash over You. "Well, he deserves it," You replied, reaching out to pat BD-1's head affectionately.

Another one of your adventures led you all to an enchanting night market, where the dim glow of colourful lanterns illuminated the bustling streets. Cloaked in hooded robes that disguised your identities, You and Cal strolled through the bustling streets and crowds of people. The outer rim planet that you all had landed on was far from the watchful eyes of the Empire, but the threat of being hunted down as Jedi still lingered, necessitating caution in your movements.

As you both moved through the sea of sellers and stalls, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal, admiring how handsome and mysterious he looked in his black cloak.

Cal too stole glances at You from beneath his hood, unable to contain his admiration. The way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as You took in the sights and sounds around You, the delicate curve of your smile as You marveled at the many stalls— it all filled him with a warmth that he couldn't quite explain.

His thoughts drifted to uncharted territory as he found himself yearning for more than just companionship with You. The urge to reach out and hold You close, to feel the warmth of your embrace and the softness of your touch, tugged at his heartstrings with an intensity he hadn't anticipated.

But the redhead knew better than to act on such impulses, especially in the midst of such a perilous situation. The threat of danger loomed overhead, reminding him of the risks involved in allowing his emotions to take control. And yet, despite the rational voice of caution in his mind, he couldn't shake the longing that stirred within him whenever he looked at You.

And as You turned to face him with a curious expression, he felt a rush of warmth fill his chest, the desire to protect and cherish You overwhelming any doubts or fears that lingered within him. In that moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the night market, Cal knew one thing for certain; he would do anything to keep You safe.

The redhead’s thoughts were interrupted when You suddenly rushed inside a bookstore with shelves full of interesting titles. Among them, a book on how to learn Binary stuck out, with a cover full of symbols and characters that attracted your interest.

"Hey, Cal, check this out!" You exclaimed, excitedly holding up the book after he caught up to You. "I've always wanted to learn Binary, especially now so I can understand Beebee better. What do you think?"

Cal glanced at the book, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think that's a great idea," he replied, his voice warm with encouragement. "Learning Binary could definitely help you and Beedee communicate more effectively."

Turning to BD-1, who was perched on Cal's shoulder, You addressed the droid with a playful grin. "What do you think, Beebee? You think I can learn Binary? Then you and I can gossip like schoolgirls, won't that be fun?"

Cal chuckled at your remark, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I definitely think Beedee will have some juicy gossip to tell you," he quipped, eliciting a series of excited beeps from the droid. "But yeah, learning Binary sounds like a fantastic idea. Just promise me one thing: as long as you both don't gossip about me, I'm all for it."

You giggled in response before purchasing the book and tucking it safely into your robes. For some reason, You hadn’t thought to ask Cal for lessons, thinking You could learn on your own and not wanting to trouble him as he already had too much on his plate. But now, with the book in hand, You were eager to begin learning.

After weeks turned to months aboard the Mantis, You received communication from a distant friend from within the rebellion You worked for, presenting You with a difficult choice. The holographic image flickered to life from within your now fixed comms unit, revealing the face of a trusted ally, their voice filled with urgency and determination as they extended an invitation for You to return to the rebellion.

For a moment, You felt torn, the call to duty and the desire to make a difference in the Galaxy making You feel conflicted. The rebellion was your way of fighting for freedom and justice alongside allies who shared your ideals and convictions.

But as You glanced around the familiar surroundings of the Mantis, the faces of Cal and BD-1 staring back at You with concern and uncertainty, You realised that this ship had become more than just a travelling vessel—it was your sanctuary, your home.

Cal, ever perceptive to the turmoil raging within You, approached with a gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. “Whatever you decide, know that we’re here for you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “You’re a part of this crew, a part of this family, and we’ll support you no matter what.”

With a heavy heart, You weighed your options, torn between the duty to your cause and the love for your newfound family.

In the end, You made your decision, lead on by your stubborn sense of duty to the cause. The call to serve the rebellion beckoned with an undeniable urgency. In a way, You and Cal were very similar, feeling like you both needed to keep fighting, unable to shake the sense of duty that weight heavily on both of you.

Cal accepted your decision with great reluctance, having half a mind to join You but he had his own duty to fulfill for Saw Gerrera’s rebellion.

When the moment of your departure drew closer, Cal and BD-1 stood beside You as You gathered your meagre belongings, their expressions a mirror of your own conflicted emotions, as You prepared to leave. The duo knew that your absence would leave a void aboard the Mantis that would be difficult to fill.

Cal, ever stoic and composed, held his emotions in check, offering You a reassuring smile as he bid You farewell. His words of encouragement and support echoed in your ears, reminding You that You were not alone in your decision, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 on the other hand, unable to contain his emotions, wailed and cried, clinging to your legs desperately as You attempted to walk down the ramp of the Mantis and onto the planet. The little droid’s cries of distress tore at your heartstrings, filling You with a sense of guilt and anguish as You struggled to pull away.

“Beebee, it’s okay,” You whispered, calling him with that endearing nickname, your voice thick with emotions as You tried to soothe the distraught droid. “I’ll come back, I promise. We’ll see eachother again soon.”

But BD-1’s cries only grew louder, his little legs clinging to You in a desperate embrace, refusing to let go. Tears welled in your eyes as You looked into the droid’s photoreceptors, seeing the depth of his sorrow reflected back at You.

As he watched BD-1 cling to You with such desperation, witnessing the droid’s anguish and your distress, Cal felt a pang of sorrow and longing grip his heart as well. He slowly approached you both, gently reaching out to the droid. “’We shouldn’t be doing this’,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with sorrow as he pried BD-1 away from You. “We must respect others’ decisions…”

The redhead wanted nothing more than to embrace You, to hold You close and offer You comfort in this difficult moment. But he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to that temptation, he would break down completely. With a heavy heart, Cal settled for a handshake instead, his touch gentle yet firm as he bid You farewell. He knew that letting You go was the right thing to do, even if it tore him apart inside.

With a heavy heart, your touch lingered on Cal’s hand before You gave BD-1 one last reassuring pat before finally stepping away and descending down the ramp. And as You walked away, the echoes of BD-1's cries followed You, a haunting reminder of the sacrifice You had made in the name of duty.

As your silhouette faded into the horizon, Cal couldn’t shake the weight of grief that settled in his chest. Watching you leave, he couldn't help but reflect on the bond that had formed between You, him and BD-1, realizing how much he and the little droid had come to cherish You.

In the short time You had been aboard the Mantis, You had become like family to them. And now, just as they had grown accustomed to your presence, You were leaving them, all too soon, like so many others before You.

The thought of saying goodbye was nearly unbearable, a painful reminder of the transience of life and the fleeting nature of companionship in a Galaxy ripped apart by conflict and suffering. But even as the pain of loss threatened to overwhelm him, Cal knew that he couldn't hold You back, knowing all too well that your duty to the rebellion was a call You could not ignore.

As Cal returned inside the Mantis, a heaviness settled upon him, weighing down his spirit with the burden of your departure. Unable to muster the resolve to fly the ship just yet, he found himself sinking into melancholy, the empty space around him echoing with the absence of your presence.

Sitting in the cockpit, Cal held BD-1 close to him, the little droid providing what comfort it could with its mechanical chirps and beeps. But even as he clung to BD-1, a sense of loneliness overcame him, a stark reminder of the void left behind by your absence.

"BeeDee," Cal murmured softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "We... We both really did come to love our new friend, didn't we?"

"Boo-woo..." BD-1 beeped in response, his photoreceptors dimming with sorrow as he nestled closer to the redhead. In that moment, as they sat together in the silent cockpit, Cal sought solace in the presence of his loyal droid.

BD-1 then emitted a flurry of hurried beeps, crying out to Cal with urgency, telling—demanding him to bring You back right this instant. Cal felt a pang of sadness grip his heart as the desperation in BD-1's cries mirrored his own inner turmoil, reminding him of the depth of the bond that had formed between him and You.

"We shouldn't be doing something like this..." Cal repeated solemnly, shaking his head as he recalled his earlier words when BD had clung to You. "We can't force someone like that..."

His voice was heavy with resignation, a reflection of the harsh reality they faced. Despite their wishes and desires, they couldn't force You to stay, no matter how much they wanted to. The decision was yours alone to make, and they had to respect that, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 emitted a series of mournful beeps in response, his sorrow palpable as he nestled closer to Cal, seeking solace in his presence. Together, they sat in the quiet confines of the cockpit, grappling with the emptiness left behind by your departure, silently hoping that You will return to them one day.

Meanwhile, as the evening turned into night, You found yourself immersed in the routine of life within the rebellion's base once more, but the memory of leaving your newfound family behind weighed heavily on your mind. Amidst the chatter and activity of your fellow rebels, a sense of longing gnawed at your heart, aching for the companionship and camaraderie You had experienced aboard the Mantis.

In the quiet solitude of your old quarters, You unpacked your belongings, the Binary language book You had purchased a few weeks earlier catching your eye. The sight of it brought back precious memories, reminding You of the laughter, the warmth, and the sense of belonging You had felt with Cal and BD-1. In that moment, You realised with a pang of regret how big of a mistake You had made in leaving them behind.

With resolution burning within You, You made a spur-of-the-moment decision to return to the Mantis, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late. Racing through the dimly lit corridors of the rebellion's base, your heart pounded with anticipation as You hurried towards the landing pad where the ship was stationed.

As You approached, the silhouette of the Mantis came into view, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Relief washed over You as You realised despite the few hours that had passed since You had left, the ship was still there, almost as if waiting patiently for your return.

You ran up the ramp and inside the ship, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your gaze fell on the solemn figures of Cal and BD-1. For a brief moment, confusion flickered across their faces, but it quickly gave way to surprise and joy as they realised that You had returned.

BD-1 was the first to react, emitting a series of excited beeps as he rushed towards You. Tears welled up in your eyes as You knelt down to greet the little droid, wrapping your arms around his small frame in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered tearfully. "I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't realise how much you both meant to me until I was gone."

BD-1 chirped softly in response, his photoreceptors gleaming with happiness as he nuzzled against You. Meanwhile, Cal approached slowly, his expression a mixture of relief and concern as he watched the emotional reunion unfold before him.

"Welcome back," he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

With BD-1 by your side as a reassuring presence, You rose from your embrace with the droid and turned to face Cal, the weight of your emotions spilling over as You threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

As You hugged Cal, your heart overflowing with emotion, he returned the embrace just as fervently, his strong arms enveloping You in a comforting hold.

"I'm so sorry, Cal," You whispered once more, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to leave you both..."

Cal held You at arm's length, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of relief and sincerity. "You mean a lot to us, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his feelings. "We've come to rely on you, to count on you. And when you left..."

His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. But before You could respond, BD-1 let out a series of joyful beeps, trotting over to nuzzle against You in his own display of affection.

The redhead grinned fondly at the droid before turning his attention back to You. "Beedee's right. You're not just a member of the crew," he continued, his words filled with warmth. "You're family. And we're just grateful to have you back where you belong."

Tears of gratitude flowed down your cheeks as You gazed at Cal, feeling the weight of his words sink in. In that moment, surrounded by the love and acceptance of your chosen family, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

Your adventures continued, roaming the Galaxy with Cal and BD-1. Despite using your book to teach yourself Binary and spending more time with BD-1, your grasp of the language remained shaky at best, leading to frequent misunderstandings with your droid friend that often led to comical yet occasionally embarrassing moments.

During one very tense mission on a remote planet, BD-1 emitted a series of urgent beeps, which You interpreted as a call for action. Without hesitation, You activated the nearest control panel, thinking You were helping to disable a security system. But your actions did the opposite instead, triggering a blaring alarm and alerting nearby guards.

Cal chuckled softly at your mistake, but his amusement turned to concern when You misinterpreted BD-1's attempts at giving directions using the help of his holomap. Confused by the droid's beeps, You accidentally led the way into a dead-end corridor, much to Cal's bemusement.

"Oh, wrong turn…" You mumbled sheepishly, earning a sympathetic pat on the back from Cal.

As the mission progressed, so did your series of misunderstandings. At one point, BD-1 signaled for a left turn, but You mistook it for a right, resulting on a wild goose chase through a maze of corridors. Cal laughed good-naturedly as You backtracked, feeling slightly embarrassed but grateful— and very surprised—for his immense patience.

Later, during a small respite from missions, BD-1 chirped happily and nudged You, prompting You to offer the droid a sandwich You had just made.

Cal chuckled again, gently correcting your mistake. "He's asking for a power recharge, not a snack," he explained, suppressing a grin.

Blushing, You quickly helped BD-1 into the charging station, feeling a bit silly but grateful for the opportunity to learn.

As you three continued your journey, your misunderstandings with BD-1 became both more frequent and more amusing. One memorable incident during a mission on a remote outpost, BD-1 quickly warned You about a slippery surface ahead. However, You misinterpreted the droid's chirps as encouragement for a fun slide.

With a playful grin, You ran and launched yourself onto the surface, expecting a thrilling ride. Instead, your feet flew out from under You, and You landed with a loud thud that sent a cloud of dust into the air.

Cal rushed over, concern etched on his face, but as he helped You up and noticed You were fine except a few scrapes, his expression softened into a grin.

"You really need to work on your Binary," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Blushing furiously, You burst out into laughter along with him, grateful for his good humor and unwavering support.

One evening, as the three of you sat around a campfire beneath a blanket of stars, the flames casting flickering shadows across the campsite, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal when he wasn't looking. His red hair, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, appeared to shimmer like molten copper, framing his face in a halo of fiery strands.

His freckled cheeks, kissed by the suns of countless worlds, added a touch of youthful charm to his rugged features. And when he laughed, his eyes sparkled like twin galaxies, filled with a light that seemed to chase away the darkness.

But it wasn't just his appearance that captivated You—it was the effortless grace with which he moved, the strength and agility evident in every fluid motion. His muscular yet lithe physique reflected countless hours spent honing his skills, preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.

Lost in admiration, You found yourself drawn to him in ways You couldn't quite explain, feeling a sense of déjà vu during that moment as You admired him. And as You watched him tend to the fire, his movements sure and purposeful, You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

While the flames danced and crackled, Cal couldn't help but steal a glance at You as well when he thought You weren't looking. He felt a surge of gratitude and relief to have You there with him, especially after the rest of the Mantis crew had split, each going their separate ways.

In those quiet moments by the campfire, Cal's thoughts drifted to the challenges you had faced together so far—the battles fought and the bonds forged in the crucible of adversity. And through it all, You had stood by his side, a constant companion whose presence filled him with a sense of hope and purpose.

He also admired your determination to learn binary, your willingness to laugh at your own mistakes, and the genuine warmth and affection You showed towards BD-1. In your company, he found a sense of peace and belonging, something he hadn't felt since the fall of the Jedi Order.

Lost in his thoughts, the redhead couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for You, grateful for your unwavering support and companionship. And as he watched You, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Cal's gaze remained on You longer than usual, a hint of something more lingering in his eyes. As the crackling of the fire filled the silence, he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"I... I think so," You stuttered, your heart racing in your chest.

In that moment, the world around You seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the soft glow of the campfire. Without another word, Cal leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in the embrace of the night.

As You pulled away, breathless and flushed, Cal's eyes sparkled in their intensity, his calloused hand reaching out to intertwine with yours.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and relief.

With a smile, You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of peace settle over You. "Me too," You whispered, knowing that in that moment, You had found something worth fighting for amidst the chaos of the Galaxy.

As You and Cal continued to lovingly gaze into each other's eyes, soft little footsteps filled the air, accompanied by the joyous chirps of BD-1. However, in your post-kiss daze, You misinterpreted the droid's enthusiastic speech, thinking he was teasing You for being all googly-eyed over Cal.

"Beebee, not now," You whispered nervously, blushing furiously as You tried to compose yourself.

Cal laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he gently nudged You. "I think BeeDee is just happy for us," he teased, his tone laced with affectionate amusement.

You shot him a sheepish grin, realising You mistook the little droid once again. "I guess I still have a lot to learn," You admitted.

Cal's teasing grin softened into a warm smile as he squeezed your hand. "Well, lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher," he replied, his teasing tone hinting at something more than just language lessons.

You couldn't help but blush at the underlying implication of his words, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest. You leaned in to kiss him once more and as the tender moment between You and Cal lingered, bathed in the soft glow of the campfire, BD-1’s lenses suddenly whirred to life, capturing the scene in a flash of light. Startled, You pulled away from the kiss, blinking in surprise as You turned to see the droid standing nearby, his photoreceptors zooming in and out as they focused on You and Cal with mechanical precision.

“BeeBee, what are you doing?” You asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity apparent in your voice.

Cal chuckled softly, his arm still wrapped around You as he glanced at the small droid with a playful grin. “I think BeeDee wanted to capture the moment,” he explained, his eyes alight with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected gesture, feeling a rush of warmth fill your chest at the thought of having a memento of this special moment.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to thank BeeBee for the souvenir,” You replied, leaning into Cal’s embrace with a contented sigh, giggling when You heard the little droid let out an excited “Whoop!” in response.

You, Cal and BD-1 settled back into the quiet comfort of the night, the image captured by BD’s lenses served as a reminder of the bond You shared with the other Jedi—a bond formed from friendship and love.

As silence once again fell upon the campsite, You found yourself lost in a moment of quiet reflection. The memory of how Cal and BD-1 had found You, helping You escape from the stormtroopers, flooded your mind with a wave of gratitude. If it hadn't been for them, You might not be here, nestled in Cal's arms, sharing laughter and companionship under the starry sky.

With a sweet smile, You turned to Cal, the flickering flames casting shadows across his features. "You know," You began softly, "I often find myself thinking about that day when a Jedi and a droid came into my life. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now. Thank you, Cal, for everything."

Cal's gaze met yours, his expression tender and sincere. "You don't have to thank me," he replied gently. "I'm just grateful that we found each other. You've become a part of our family, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

His words warmed your heart, filling You with a sense of belonging that You had never known before. With a grateful nod, You leaned even further into his embrace, savoring the comfort and reassurance of his presence. In that moment, surrounded by the silence of the night, the warmth of Cal's love and the joyous chatter of BD-1, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

Like Birds on a Broken Branch | 3

Monster! Task Force 141 X F!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Context Warning: NSFW! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dub-con/ Non-con, Fingering, Murder, Author's Poor Attempt in Dark Fic, Monsterfucking, Mentions of Slavery

Your eyes were already open before the sun had spread its light across the horizon, staring up at the crimson blinds of your canopy, counting its folds. Normally, you would have slept in until nearly noon, but something at the back of your mind woke you up before the crack of dawn, and so, you heaved yourself up from bed.

The hem of the black, silk dress you had been put into last night, fell under your knees, and with each step you took, it gave a satisfying rustle.

You padded over the books, fingers hovering over the expensive leather binds, the titles and the authors’ names dusted with gold. You pulled out one and pondered over its cover, an engraving of a man in a cloak, holding a scythe with one hand. A Reaper.

You walked over to the chair next to the windows placed it down on its red cushion, for a later read, and headed towards another table, where a mirror was placed above and a litter of jewelry and ornaments rested in lofty boxes.

You took a seat positioned in front of the table and gazed upon the glistening gems in your sight. But you didn’t dare place a finger on them and went straight for the drawers instead. Upon the third one, you found scissors.

You began to hum and carefully closed it. You pulled open the first drawer, where the hair brushes were stashed, and took one. You parted your hair and the door swung open. Through the mirror, you watched John Mactavish make his way towards you with a grin.

“Good morning, love,” he greeted in a bright voice, too loud and clear to start a morning with. He wrapped his muscular arms around your frame and planted his lips on the bare skin of your nape, before taking a whiff of you. “Yer up quite early. A morning person?”

You remained silent for a moment, before shaking your head. “Not really.”

He took the brush from your hand and you didn't bother to utter a protest as he started to untangle your locks with careful strokes. “What made ye get up early?”

Oh, nothing. Just being almost fucked by monsters? You clenched your fists, holding yourself back from reaching towards the scissors to rip his throat open.

“Hmm, I get it.” He swiped your hair to the side. “Living with monsters and all, now.” He put down the brush and rested his chin on your shoulder, once again wrapping his arms around you. “But of all things, ya should be glad we are the ones who got ya.”

He gently placed his fingers on your chin, angling your head for more access to your neck, where he began to dust your skin kisses. Whilst his hand hovered over the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it down. Then, he stopped and clicked his tongue.

“Really, Ghost?” The incubus groaned and placed his forehead on your shoulder.

In the mirror’s reflection, you watched Simon shrug and turn away, just like he did last night before you had dinner.

“Breakfast is being served, and I'm not going to tell the servants to save some more for you,” the Wraith proclaimed.

You didn't know why he kept interrupting his brothers, but you were a bit thankful for that.

With no time and consideration to change into a different dress before breakfast, you were dragged by the incubus to their dining hall. By the time you arrived, no thanks to the winding corridors and hallways of the fortress, you just wished to sit down and sleep on the table.

The dragon and the siren were already seated across one another in a long dining table, where food had been placed. They looked over their shoulders as you sauntered in with the Wraith and Incubus, and both smiled at you.

Mactavish guided you towards the seat at the end of the table, which you knew by reading books was supposedly the seat of the highest person in a castle. But when you frowned at him in confusion, he merely nodded and forced you to sit down. Then, he took his own seat next to Kyle, and Simon next to Price.

“Are you supposed to not say anything to your husbands on this lovely morning?” Price spoke up, his chest puffing out through his deep v-neck shirt.

Your eyes went back and forth between the four of them and knitted your brows deeper. “Good Morning?” you offered them, unsure of what the dragon wanted, but that was what people would usually say to other people at this early hour.

“You speak as though that wasn't a custom to everyone,” he huffed, angling his head to the side.

“Because I've got no one to say that greeting to,” you muttered and lowered your gaze, eyeing the perfectly grilled meat in front of you. You gulped.

“You have us now,” Kyle claimed in a silvery voice.

You snapped your head in his way, captured by his words. To someone who had been deprived of other people's presence and touch, a siren who was as alluring as his voice was dangerous.

But he . . . spoke of the truth. Even the incubus did.

A shelter above your head to shield you from what was to come, a lovely room where you can sleep instead of an old mattress infested of insects, and more than sufficient amount of meal to fill your stomach.

Other females would kill to be in your position.

Have you truly been lucky to be in their arms?

No.

No, it was the Siren’s song working through your mind again.

Do not fall for it.

Do not drown in it.

“While we're at it,” Price’s deep voice burned through the veil of thoughts unrolling in your head, and you met his eyes, currently in the shade of blue. “Don't you have another thing to do for your husbands after saying good morning?”

Once again, you went into a spiral of thoughts, your mind going through the books and stories of women you have read throughout your life. But all of it was the tales of their suffering.

Was this lizard mocking you even after knowing you didn't know shit about having partners?

You stared at him for a good minute till your gaze drifted down to his lips, and he smirked his sharp fang flashing.

Why was this guy so hold-up with fcking old traditions of humans that had been under the land a long time ago?

You fought back the grimace threatening to appear on your face and slowly rose from your seat. You walked over him as his eyes trailed over your body, before settling back to your face.

You reached to his face, hand trembling as you leaned down. You lowered your lashes and placed a kiss on his lips, at the same time you felt his hand circling your waist.

“Gracing us with a gorgeous view, aren't we?” He questioned when you pulled away and his eyes fell on your nipples firm under the thin silk dress.

“Kyle dressed me up on this,” you said and removed your hand from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist. He placed it over his mouth, dusting your palm with kisses.

“Can't blame myself for having good fashion.” The Siren shrugged. “That said, where's my kiss?”

Price let you go as if permitting you to go. You shot him a glance and left his side, skipping over to Kyle. Repeating the same actions as you did for the dragon, you left him with a smile when you went to the incubus by his side, who seemed to be more eager than the other two.

Mactavish pushed himself closer to you kissing as soon as your skins met, but soon pulled away. Then your eyes met the Wraith’s.

Simon, a monster of a few words, and seemingly the least interested in you.

“Well, I'm waiting,” he said, his eyes narrowing. Under his mask, you knew he was smiling.

Maybe, he was as needy as his brothers, but he just didn't show it. Nevertheless, as you came closer to him, your heart thumped, fearing what he would look like under his mask.

He reached out a hand to you, which you took hesitantly, and with your other hand, you reached up to his face but hovered over the fabric.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he ordered, and with a finger, you pulled it down.

You blink at his features. It was perfectly normal. Good-looking, as much as you hated to admit it, like every single one of them There were a few signs of scars but not a spot of rotting on his face, despite being a wraith.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you planted your lips on him, stopping him from uttering a word.

He was a high-ranked wraith, that was the only answer to his perfect body.

You later learned, during their not-so-late self-introductions over breakfast that he was a Duke, the incubus and the siren were nobles, and their acting leader was the sovereign of dragons.

The crown felt heavy and yet, at the same time, it felt like nothing but a feather on your head. You were not suited to be a Queen, a Duchess, or any sort of nobility. A slave were meant to be underneath their feet, not someone who would sit on the throne.

You removed the ornament adorning your head and placed it down on the table, meeting Jonathan's eyes on the mirror's reflection.

His eyes flashed gold, his round pupils turning thin and his grip on your shoulders tightening. “Why'd you remove it?”

“Get yourself a Queen, not a slave,” you imposed, watching his brows knit, “Have some . . .” you trailed off as his hands went down to your breast and waist. “Have some dignity,” you finished.

“You are my woman.” He kissed your shoulder, bare from the off-shoulder dress you had changed into, but it was also dangerously low on the chest, giving him access to easily strip it off you.

He pulled the neckline down under your breasts as he sucked on your neck, his fangs grazing your skin, and pinched your nipple. “My wife.”

You gripped his arm, trying to pull it away from you, but he only strengthened his hold on you, eliciting a cry of pain from you. “I just got dressed—”

“And who gave you those dresses, hm?” He twisted the sensitive bud and you clawed on his arm, wincing at the discomfort.

“I did not ask for it!” You shouted at him and he grabbed your jaw, making you face your reflection. Your visage flashed red at your sight and on your neck, you could see his eyes changing back to gold.

“Really?” He swiped the boxes of jewelry and the crown off the table, and flipped you over, heaving you onto the surface. He forced your legs open wide and leaned down.

“Jonathan,” you begged just as he kissed your folds through the thin fabric of your undergarment. You bit back a moan when he ran his tongue over. “S-stop.”

Yet, he continued, ripping your panties off with his fangs.

“I said, stop!” You pulled on his hair, making him stop and look up at you through his lashes. You flinched at his gaze that seemed to have imprisoned the purgatory, ready to unleash its flame to burn you alive. You pulled your hand back, but he was quick to catch it.

He placed a kiss on your knuckles and his horns sprouted from his forehead. “You deserve only the best, my Queen.”

Price had you holding onto one of his horns. He slurped at your cunt with thirst as he gripped your thighs, his claws digging into your skin through every lap. His beard was drenched, soaked in the flavor of your slick, and each time his nose hit your clit, he would feel you flinch. His breath as he chuckled fanned your sex, now diving to the sensitive bud, his tongue dragging it into circles.

It was hard to breathe from the stimulation, your body felt like it was set on fire as Price continued his overwhelming abuse. “Stop, please, please,” you cried, feeling the sting of his claws on your trembling thighs.

“You're dripping wet and you want me to stop?” A laugh once again escaped his lips. He removed his grip on your thigh only to place his fingers onto your drenched folds.

Your breath hitched and you grabbed his wrist, shaking your head. “Not the claws.”

“Why not?” He raised a brow.

“It—it will hurt,” you told him in a low voice and gulped when he didn't utter an answer. “Please, Jonathan.”

“Fine,” he scoffed, finding himself frowning at the sound of his name from your mouth, and felt his cock twitch under his pants, already painfully hard.

His claws retracted in a blink and his fingers quickly traced up to the hood of your clit and once again, circled the nub. This time, as compensation, you hold onto his muscled shoulder, and as though he understood it as permission, his fingers moved in further and dipped into your flittering hole without warning.

He picked up the rhythm and before you could clamp your hand over your mouth to hold back the moan, he wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

Your moan rose, became more hectic, and he drank them all as he worked on your clit with his thumb.

The noises that echoed around the room were pure filth, and you hated every single second of it. But you couldn't deny the pleasure he was giving you. So, you wrapped your arms around his neck, closed your eyes, and bucked your hips on his hands.

Jonathan smiled at the kiss.

Women were easy to get, was what he might be thinking, and that was the reaction you wanted.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

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[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

After my conversation with Dawn, I decide I need to talk to Ash as soon as possible. Mostly to take advantage of the clarity and confidence boost while it lasts, but also because I really don’t want to deal with yet another awkward Monday morning. I rush into the apartment to shower and change, and am back out again within twenty minutes.

During the walk to his apartment, I rehearse what I want to say, mumbling to myself as I navigate the quiet streets of the Spice District, trying to figure out the words now so I don’t get stuck and stumble when I see him. Finding the balance between being honest without having to dive into the entirety of my fucked-up past is more difficult that I expected. Almost as though, once I open that door, everything wants to come crashing out like a cartoon closet where a mountain of junk has been stashed in order to make a room appear clean and organized.

When I arrive at his building, step off the elevator and stand in front of his door, I stop, realizing I’ve shown up completely unannounced. “What am I doing?” I mutter, “Why didn’t I call first?” I start pacing anxiously around the hallway, trying to decide whether to knock or whether to leave and text him and then come back. I don’t know if he’s home, or if he even wants to see me. Does anyone even answer the door if they’re not expecting anyone? I don’t.

It takes me at least ten minutes before I finally decide to just knock. If he doesn’t answer, then I’ll text him, but I can’t leave now that I’m here. I walk back to the door, whispering to myself, “Ready… 1… 2… 3.” And then I knock.

It’s Lex who opens the door. She understandably looks surprised to see me, “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, I just need to talk to Ash. Is he here?”

She gives me a concerned look before nodding, “Yeah, he’s in here.”

She escorts me down the hall to the living room where Ash is laying back on the couch looking tired and despondent.

“Hey,” I greet him anxiously, trying to gauge how he feels about my showing up.

“Hi,” he doesn’t give me much, but he does seem curious at least.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

Lex takes the cue to leave us, pointing back toward the hallway, “I’ll just go hang out in my room.”

Ash nods a thank you to her as I walk over and sit next to him on the familiar yellow sofa. His feet are up, and he lets them come to rest against the side of my leg. I don’t know if the gesture is intentional or not because his eyes stay down, watching his fingers as they pick at the polish on his nails, but regardless, the contact gives me the courage to start speaking.

“I’m really sorry, Ash. It’s not fair, the way I’ve been treating you.”

“No, it’s not,” he says pointedly, “but go on.” He sits up and crosses his arms defensively, but his eyes are soft when he looks over, encouraging me to continue.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to face him, “Okay look, aside from Dawn, I’ve lost everyone who’s ever been important to me. And I've developed a bad habit of shutting people out, keeping them at a distance. I guess I thought that by not dating you, I could keep from getting too close. As if it would prevent me from losing you too, or maybe I thought it would hurt less if I did. I’m not sure. But refusing to date you because we worked together just felt like an easy way to keep a distance that felt safe. It all backfired though. I fell for you anyway. And it hurt like hell when you walked out on me. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he says softly, giving me a small half-smile but still looking apprehensive, “So, where does that leave us?”

And here it is, the moment I usually freak out and tell him we should just be friends. Even now I have to fight back the part of me that wants to shut down and push him away, that is convinced it’s better to be alone. Perhaps that part of me did keep me safe once, when I was young, but Dawn’s right, it doesn’t anymore. We left that place a long time ago, and for good reason, but I’ve continued to carry it around with me. I need to figure out how to let it go because I’ll never have a future if I keep myself stuck in the past. So, for the first time, I tell him the truth about how I feel, “I really care about you, Ash, and the connection we have, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare the hell out of me, but I don’t want to run from it anymore. To be honest, I don’t know the first thing about being a good boyfriend, but I’d like to try. With you. If you’ll still have me.”

To my surprise, I feel lighter. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. A weight lifts from my shoulders, and I feel almost giddy as he looks up at me, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“You really want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do I still have to quit my job?” he asks.

“No,” I laugh, “please don’t. I really like working with you every day.”

“Good, me too,” he says with a smile, his body finally relaxing as he leans over to kiss me.

We both laugh as he tries to keep his lips on mine while he turns and climbs onto my lap. Once he’s settled, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, burying his face in my neck, his soft kisses sending a chill down my back and causing goosebumps to raise on my arms.

“Is that a yes?” I ask.

He pulls back, draping his arms across my shoulders and resting his forehead against mine, “Oh, it’s a hell yes. Will you promise me something, though?”

“What?”

“Always be honest with me. If you get overwhelmed or scared, if I get too intense or piss you off, if you’re struggling for any reason, whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

“I know. I will, I promise. Can I ask you for something too?”

“Of course.”

“When I inevitably screw things up, if I disappoint you or upset you, will you stay and talk to me? Don’t storm off and leave me.”

“I do love a dramatic exit when I’m angry, but for you, I can definitely do that.”

“Thank you.”

“See, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re a great boyfriend already.”

I laugh a little, tempted to make a self-deprecating joke, to assure him I will indeed let him down eventually, but then decide I’d rather kiss him instead.

Even if I am destined to lose him in the end, I at least want to enjoy every minute we have together in the meantime. And who knows, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s a chance he could love me the way that I love him.

He stops then, and for a split second I worry he heard what I was thinking. The way he looks down at me makes me wonder if he was thinking it too, but instead he asks, “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Um, I have to let Lex come out of her room.”

“Oh shit, Lex.”

“Yeah. So, I don’t know, maybe we can all watch a movie or something.”

“What if I want you to myself tonight?”

“Then, you’ve got me,” he smiles, “We can just hang out in my room.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He enters the room quietly, closing the door softly and leaning against it, watching as I look over the artwork on his dresser and on his wall. “I just realized I’ve never been in your room.”

“What do you think?"

"I like it, it's very you."

He smiles, pushing himself away from the door, "Can I ask you something?"

“Sure.”

“When you say you lost everyone, what do you mean? What happened?”

“Uhh,” I sigh, unsure if I’m prepared to dive into all that tonight. “If I promise to tell you, can we save that conversation for another day?”

“Yeah. We can do that.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what do you want to do then?”

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

Prev // Deja vu // 18+ // Next

[onebadassunicorn]

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: depression, talk of torture and captivity, longing, angst

word count: 7.9k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @salvatoresister1 @imperfect0angel @stvrdustalexx @anneas11

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

********************

Chapter 19

Azriel POV

The moment lingered in his mind like a cruel echo. The last time Azriel had seen Y/n, was when she stood at the edge of the River House courtyard, her figure framed by the soft glow of dawn. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, her wings tucked tightly against her as if she were trying to shield herself from the world.

But it wasn’t her poised figure or even her battered wings that haunted him most—it was her eyes.

Her blue eyes, so striking and vibrant in happier times, had become something else entirely. They had always been a window to her soul, a reflection of her emotions. Once, they had been a lively mosaic of blues: the sparkling turquoise of shallow waters when she laughed, the endless cerulean of calm seas when she gazed at him with quiet affection. But that morning, as she looked at him, they were none of those things. They were darker, stormier, like the ocean during a tempest.

The sadness in her gaze was raw and unguarded, pulling him into its depths like a riptide. Her eyes held the weight of everything she had endured, every scar she carried, every moment she had been left alone to fight for herself.

Her gaze flickered to his, hesitant but piercing, and he felt the bond between them stretch taut, trembling under the strain of unspoken words. The color of her eyes shifted as her emotions swirled—deep cobalt at the edges, a stormy gray-blue bleeding into the irises, as though her feelings had darkened the very ocean within her.

“Angel,” he had murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to say more, to beg her to stay, to promise he would spend every moment making up for the choices that had brought them to this moment. But the words lodged in his throat, his usual calm and calculated demeanor shattered in her presence.

She stared at him, her lips pressing together as though she were biting back her own words. The softness in her eyes, the vulnerability she tried to hide, cut him deeper than any blade. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might reach for him, that she might let him hold her and ease the ache between them. But then the storm in her gaze deepened, and she turned away.

“Take care of yourself, Azriel,” she had said, her voice steady but tinged with a tremor she couldn’t quite suppress.

Her words felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, but he had forced himself to nod, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You too,” he had replied, feeling hollow inside.

But he couldn’t stop her. Not when he had been the one to fail her.

As she stepped toward the waiting winnow from Tarquin’s emissary, she glanced back at him one last time. Her wings shifted slightly, a faint, hesitant motion that spoke of uncertainty. And when her eyes met his again, they had darkened further, the blue turning almost black with the depth of her emotions.

Sadness.

Longing.

Hurt.

It was all there, written in the stormy ocean of her gaze.

And then she was gone.

The space where she had stood felt like a void, her absence a tangible weight pressing down on him. Azriel exhaled shakily, his wings drooping as he let his shadows swirl around him, a futile attempt to fill the emptiness she had left behind. Her eyes lingered in his mind, those storm-filled depths that had spoken more than her words ever could.

He knew he would never forget them. Those eyes, full of pain and longing, would haunt him until the day she returned.

If she ever did.

And until that moment, he would carry the memory of her gaze like an anchor.

A reminder of the love he hadn’t been able to protect, the bond he hadn’t been able to mend.

******

Azriel POV

The nights in Velaris were quieter now, the usual hum of the city feeling hollow without her presence. Azriel sat on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the Sidra, the soft wind tugging at his hair and wings. His shadows curled around him, restless and searching, as if they too felt the ache of her absence. The stars above seemed dimmer, the moonlight less comforting.

Everything was muted without her.

She had returned to the Summer Court. Y/n had said it was where she needed to be, where she could heal after everything she had endured during her captivity. Azriel had wanted to fight her decision, to beg her to stay in Velaris, where he could keep her close, protect her. But when she had looked at him, her blue eyes heavy with pain and resolve, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to argue. She had gone, and he had let her.

Now, he was left with the emptiness she had left behind—and the crushing weight of his guilt.

He closed his eyes, the memories of that night haunting him like a specter. He had made his the difficult choice on the battlefield to leave her and save Elain, the image of her, bloodied and outnumbered, would never leave him. The love in her gaze when she had seen him fly away with someone else—leaving her behind—seared into his mind like a brand.

You failed her.

The thought clawed at him, a constant, unrelenting torment. His shadows echoed the sentiment, their movements jagged and erratic as if reflecting the storm within him. He had been too slow. He had made a choice, and it had cost her more than he could ever repay.

The reports of her captivity had been unbearable to hear. The physical wounds, the psychological scars—she had endured so much, and he hadn’t been there to stop it. When he had finally found her, she had been barely conscious, her wings battered, her body broken. But it was the look in her eyes that had gutted him the most hollow, detached, as though some vital part of her had been stolen away.

Even after she had healed enough to speak, she hadn't provided many details about what happened in that cell, her words distant and measured. She didn’t blame him for the time it took to find her and rescue her, but the bond between them, faint and fragile as it was, felt strained.

She had returned to the Summer Court not because she didn’t care for Velaris, but because she needed to heal. He tried to keep telling himself that, but the guilt of not finding her sooner constantly tormented him.

Azriel exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists. His wings trembled slightly, the tension in his body barely contained. He had spent centuries honing his skills, perfecting his ability to protect those he cared about. And yet, when it had mattered most, he had failed the one person he couldn’t bear to lose.

Gods, he missed her.

Every moment of every day, he missed her.

The sound of her laughter, the warmth of her smile, the way her presence had made even his darkest moments feel lighter. She was a part of him, his mate, and the empty space she had left behind felt like a wound that refused to heal.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the night, his voice barely audible over the wind. He didn’t know if she could feel his words through the bond, faint as it was, but he said them anyway. “I’m so sorry, Angel.”

The guilt, the longing, the love he felt for her—it all churned within him, a storm with no end in sight. He didn’t know if she would ever return, if she could ever forgive him, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right.

******

Y/n POV 

I stood by the open windows of Tarquin’s seaside palace, the salt-kissed breeze tugging at my dark hair and brushing gently against my battered wings. The ocean stretched endlessly before me, its rhythmic waves offering a soothing backdrop to the turmoil inside me. 

Home.

I hadn’t spoken of my time in captivity since returning to the Summer Court, hadn’t allowed myself to relive the memories that haunted me every waking moment.

But now, as Tarquin approached me with quiet steps, his expression kind but resolute, I knew I couldn’t keep it locked away any longer.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying the warmth of the Summer Court, but laced with concern. “You’ve been silent since you arrived. I won’t push you, but if you’re ready to talk… I’m here.”

I turned to face him, my eyes shadowed with pain, the once-bright color dulled by the weight of my experiences. For a moment, I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. But the steady patience in his gaze, the unwavering presence of someone who had always cared for me, allowed me to take a trembling breath.

“They broke me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the crash of the waves. “Not just my body… but my spirit.”

Tarquin’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing, giving me the space to continue.

“They tore at my wings first,” I said, my voice cracking as I glanced over my shoulder at the still-healing feathers. “They slashed at them, trying to cripple me, to make me feel powerless. They knew what wings mean to an Illyrian—to me—and they wanted to take that from me.”

Tarquin’s hands clenched at his sides, his golden-brown skin taut as he fought to keep his anger in check. He stepped closer, his voice steady but tight with emotion. “You’re not powerless, baby sister. You’re here. You survived.”

My throat tightened, and I shook my head, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It wasn’t just the wings, Tarquin. They… they cut me. My arms, my legs. They wanted to see how much I could take. How much I would endure before I begged for mercy.”

Tarquin’s jaw tensed, and his fists clenched again, but he kept his expression soft as he reached out to gently touch my shoulder. “You never begged, did you?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with pride.

My lips quivered, and I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. “No. I didn’t give them that satisfaction. But… but I wanted to. By the end, I was praying for it to stop. Praying for death to take me.”

Tarquin stepped closer, his hands settling on my shoulders now, grounding me as I trembled. “But they didn’t. They couldn’t,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “You came back, Y/n. You fought through it. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hell—it doesn’t erase what they did. But it proves that they didn’t win. You did.”

My tears fell freely now, and I bowed my head, my dark hair shielding my face as my wings trembled behind me. “I don’t feel like I won,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I feel… hollow. I feel like a piece of me was left behind in that cell.”

Tarquin gently cupped my face, tilting my chin up so I had to meet his gaze. His azure-blue eyes, so similar to mine yet so different, radiated kindness and understanding. “Then we’ll find that piece,” he said softly. “We’ll rebuild it together, piece by piece, no matter how long it takes. You are not alone in this, baby sister. You never have to be alone.”

My hands trembled as I gripped the windowsill, my gaze fixed on the endless horizon of the ocean. The rhythmic crash of waves below did little to calm the storm within me, the memories of my captivity clawing at the edges of my mind. I had never spoken the full truth aloud, had never allowed myself to put the pain into words. But now, standing in the safe haven of the Summer Court with Tarquin’s steady presence beside me, the words began to break free, no longer content to be buried.

“They didn’t just want to break me physically,” I said quietly, my voice brittle but steady. “They wanted to make sure I carried their mark for the rest of my life. They wanted me to remember, to never forget.”

Tarquin stilled beside me, his golden-brown skin paling as my words settled heavily in the air. “What did they do?” he asked softly, though his voice was tight with barely restrained anger.

My breath hitched, and I turned slightly, my eyes meeting his. They were darker now, stormy and filled with the weight of everything I had endured. “They carved into my skin,” I said, my voice cracking as I gestured to my stomach. “They carved it deep enough to scar. And then they used faebane to make sure it would never heal.”

Tarquin’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as fury swept through him. But he kept his voice calm, his tone soft and encouraging. “Show me,” he said gently, his gaze searching mine for permission.

I hesitated, my throat tightening as shame threatened to drown me. But there was something in Tarquin’s eyes—an unshakable kindness, a promise that he would never see me as anything less than who I was. With a shaky breath, I reached for the hem of my tunic and lifted it just enough to reveal the jagged scar etched across my abdomen.

The scar tissue a harsh white against my skin. It was a permanent reminder of the cruelty I had faced, of the lengths they had gone to in their attempt to strip me of my identity, my dignity.

Tarquin’s breath left him in a shuddering exhale, his golden eyes darkening with a mix of rage and sorrow. “Y/n…” he said, his voice trembling with emotion as he stepped closer. “They’ll pay for this. Every last one of them.”

I shook my head, my arms dropping to my sides as I lowered my tunic. “Azriel already made sure of that,” I said quietly. “Even if they’re gone, it doesn't matter because this—” I gestured to my stomach, my lips trembling. “This will always be here. I’ll carry it forever. Every time I look in the mirror, I’ll see what they did to me.”

Tarquin’s hands rose slowly, hesitating for a moment before settling gently on my shoulders. “It does matter,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it. “Because what they did doesn’t define you. This scar, these marks—they don’t take away who you are. They don’t make you any less.”

My throat tightened, tears spilling down my cheeks as I whispered, “But every time I see it, I feel… dirty. Like they succeeded in taking something from me.”

“They didn’t,” Tarquin said fiercely, his hands tightening on my shoulders as he leaned closer, his voice softening. “You’re here, Y/n. You survived. They tried to strip you of your strength, your dignity, but they couldn’t. You’re still standing. That scar doesn’t define you. It’s a mark of your survival, not your defeat.”

My wings trembled slightly, my chest heaving as sobs wracked my body. Tarquin pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as I cried against his chest. His hands moved gently, brushing over my back, my shoulders, careful not to press too hard against my still-healing injuries.

“I’ll help you through this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Whatever you need, whenever you’re ready. And I promise you, baby sister, you are so much more than what they tried to make you.”

My lip trembled, and I let out a soft sob, leaning into his embrace as he pulled me close. His arms were strong, steady, a quiet reminder of the safety and love I had always found in the Summer Court. I buried my face in his chest, my tears soaking into the soft fabric of his tunic as he held me, his grip unwavering.

“You’re safe now,” Tarquin murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Whatever you need, whenever you’re ready, I’m here. And I’ll make sure no one hurts you again.”

I clung to him, the weight of my pain easing just slightly under his steady presence. The scar on my stomach would never fade, but in Tarquin’s arms, I felt the faintest flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could learn to see myself as something more than what they had tried to reduce me to.

As the waves crashed against the shore below, I let herself believe, for the first time in a long time, that healing was possible—even if it came one fragile piece at a time.

******

Elain POV

Elain had suspected something for a while.

She wasn’t blind to the way Azriel’s gaze lingered on Y/n, the way his shadows softened around her, or the quiet warmth in his voice when he spoke her name. But hearing the truth, learning that Y/n was Azriel’s mate, still struck her like a blow to the chest.

The words came to her from Feyre, softly spoken but impossible to misunderstand. “Y/n is Azriel’s mate.” Feyre’s gaze was gentle, searching Elain’s face for a reaction. Elain had nodded quietly, offering a small smile to reassure her sister.

But inside, a storm was brewing.

Elain retreated to the garden after Feyre left, needing the solace of the flowers and the open sky to process her feelings. She knelt by the rosebushes, her hands working the soil mechanically as her mind raced.

At first, there was confusion.

She had known Azriel cared for her once, had seen it in the quiet way he lingered near her, the hesitant touches, the unspoken words between them. But she had also known, deep down, that something had shifted. He had grown distant after Y/n’s arrival, his focus elsewhere, and she hadn’t been able to understand why—until now.

Then came the sting of jealousy, sharp and bitter, like the thorn of a rose she hadn’t seen.

Y/n.

Beautiful, strong, radiant Y/n, who had come into their lives like a storm and captured Azriel’s attention effortlessly. Elain couldn’t deny her own envy, couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel overshadowed by her presence.

But beneath the jealousy, there was something else.

Relief.

Elain let out a shaky breath, brushing the dirt from her hands as she sat back on her heels.

Relief, because she had always felt a quiet pressure when it came to Azriel—a pressure to feel something more, to give him what he wanted, even if her heart had never truly aligned with his.

Relief, because she hadn’t been able to let go of the tether to Lucien, faint as it was, no matter how hard she tried.

Azriel and Y/n made sense. That was what struck her most as she sat there in the garden, the sun warming her skin. They fit. Y/n, with her strength and fire, matched Azriel’s quiet intensity in a way that Elain never could. And for the first time, Elain allowed herself to admit that she didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to be Azriel’s mate. She didn’t want to try to force feelings that weren’t there. And now, with this truth laid bare, she didn’t have to.

Still, a pang of sadness lingered as she thought of Azriel. She had seen the way he had once looked at her, the quiet longing in his hazel eyes, and it hurt to know she had never been able to give him the same in return. But now, knowing he had found his mate, someone who could meet him on every level—someone who belonged to him—it eased that guilt.

A faint rustle of shadows drew her attention, and she turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the garden, his expression unreadable. His hazel eyes searched hers, cautious and careful, as though he already knew what Feyre had told her.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice low but steady.

Elain nodded, brushing her hands on her skirt as she rose to her feet. “I do.”

He hesitated, his wings shifting slightly. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I never wanted—”

“You didn’t,” she interrupted gently, meeting his gaze. “Azriel, I… I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

Surprise flickered across his face, followed by relief. “You are?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Elain smiled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I am. She’s your mate, Azriel. And she’s… she’s incredible. You two belong together.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he inclined his head in quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere.

Elain nodded, the tension between them easing. As he turned to leave, she called after him, her voice soft but certain. “Azriel?”

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“She’s lucky to have you,” Elain said, a small smile curving her lips. “Don’t forget that.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Elain felt free—free to move forward, to explore what her own path might hold.

And as she watched Azriel disappear into the shadows, she silently wished him and Y/n all the happiness they deserved.

******

Y/n POV

At the Summer Court, healing didn’t come all at once for me—it came in fragments, little moments that pieced me back together bit by bit.

The first time I stepped onto the beach, the familiar scent of salt and the soothing sound of waves washing against the shore, I felt the tiniest flicker of something I hadn’t felt in months: peace. Tarquin walked beside me, his presence steady and grounding, as though he understood that the silence was what I needed most.

At first, my days were quiet. I spent hours by the water, letting the gentle ebb and flow of the tide remind me of the rhythms of life. I’d sit on the sand with my knees pulled to my chest, the warm sun kissing my skin as my black feathered wings rested limply behind me. My magic came slowly, tentatively at first. Little streams of water danced between my fingers, shapes forming and dissolving as I tested my strength. It wasn’t much, but it was mine, and it felt like a small victory.

One afternoon, a group of children ran past me on the beach, laughing and chasing one another. I watched them with a wistful smile until one of the braver children approached me, holding out a small shell. “Can you make it swim?” the girl asked, her wide eyes filled with wonder.

I hesitated but took the shell. I cupped it in my palm, and with a quiet breath, I sent a ripple of magic through it. The shell rose into the air, spinning and swirling like a bird in flight before it dipped into the water, leaving a tiny trail behind. The children clapped and cheered, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed—a real, unrestrained laugh that lit up my face.

After that, the children sought me out whenever I was near, begging me to create dolphins, sea turtles, or even mermaids from the water. I indulged them, their joy infectious, and it filled a part of me that I hadn’t realized was so empty.

Tarquin noticed the change, a flicker of life returning to my eyes. He began spending more time with me, walking along the cliffs or sitting on the docks as the sun set. We spoke about the past, about the girl I had been before everything had gone so wrong, and he reminded me of the strength I carried even now. “You were always the brightest part of this court,” he told me one evening. “And you still are.”

I began to explore the Summer Court with renewed curiosity, rediscovering the places I had once loved but had felt too broken to return to. The hidden lagoons where I used to practice my magic, the coral gardens beneath the waves, the winding paths through the forest that led to waterfalls shimmering like liquid crystal. I laid on the glittery white sands, my feathered wings soaking up the sun as the waves washed over me. Each step felt like reclaiming a piece of myself.

One night, Tarquin invited me to a gathering by the water’s edge. The stars glittered above, and soft music drifted through the air as courtiers danced and laughed. I stood on the outskirts, hesitant, until Tarquin held out his hand. “Dance with me, baby sister,” he said with a smile.

I took his hand, letting him lead me into the soft glow of lanterns strung between palm trees. My movements were tentative at first, but as the music swelled, I let herself get lost in the moment. He spun me around until I was laughing and giddy from it all. When the song ended, Tarquin kissed my forehead. “That’s the sister I remember.”

The weight I carried didn’t vanish, but it grew lighter with each passing day. I wasn’t the same person I had been before—I would never be—but I was finding my way, piece by piece, back to myself.

And for the first time in a long time, I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be whole again.

******

Y/n POV

As I began to rediscover myself in the warm embrace of the Summer Court, the ache I thought I’d buried started to resurface. It crept in during quiet moments, when the laughter of children faded into the rhythm of the waves, or when I found myself alone beneath the vast, star-filled sky.

I hadn’t thought about him at first. I’d been too broken, too consumed by the need to heal, to piece myself together in a place that felt safe. But now, with every day that I grew stronger, with every step I took back toward myself, I found my thoughts drifting to him more often than I cared to admit.

Azriel.

It was in the little things that I missed him. The way his hazel eyes always seemed to see straight through me, as if he knew my every thought before I spoke it. The quiet strength of his presence, the way he never pressed but was always there, a steady force in the chaos of my life. And his voice—low and steady, like the shadows he wielded—I could still hear it, calling me angel.

I would catch myself thinking about his hands, scarred but so gentle when they brushed my tears away after a nightmare, or the way they rested protectively on my lower back when we walked through the House of Wind as I was healing. I remembered the way he’d looked at me after my first laugh following my captivity, as if the sound had been a balm to his own soul.

But the memory that haunted me most was the last time I’d seen him on the battlefield before I was taken. His face, carved with anguish, as he’d whispered, I love you. I hadn’t been able to respond then, just realizing the mating bond to grasp the enormity of his words. And then I’d told him to go, to save Elain, unable to tell him before he flew away and unable to say it after he rescued me, when I didn’t even know who I was.

Now, standing on the beach with the warm sand beneath my feet, I realized how much I missed him. Not just the comfort he brought, but him. His humor, his quiet moments of vulnerability, the way he always put everyone else before himself. I missed the way he saw me—not as broken or incomplete, but as someone strong, someone worthy.

And with that realization came brought a sharper ache.

I left Velaris and never told him.

I hadn’t told him that I loved him too, that I’d known it in my heart for longer than I could admit. I had left without giving him those words, without even giving him the chance to show me that I was still enough.

The bond hummed faintly in my chest, a quiet, persistent reminder of the connection that tethered us. I pressed a hand to my heart, feeling the warmth of it, the pull that I’d tried to ignore. But no matter how far I went, it was still there, unyielding and steady, like him.

Tarquin noticed the change in me as the days passed. “You’re restless,” he said one evening as we sat by the water, the moonlight casting ripples of silver across the waves.

I didn’t deny it. “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I came here to find myself, but I feel… incomplete.”

He gave me a knowing look, his blue eyes kind. “Maybe that’s because a part of you is still in Velaris.”

My breath caught, and I turned to look at him, searching his face. “Do you think I made a mistake leaving?”

“I think you did what you needed to do,” Tarquin said gently. “But healing doesn’t always mean running from what hurts. Sometimes it means facing it.”

I looked down at my hands, at the faint scars that lingered on my skin. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said. “But if you’re thinking about him this much, maybe it’s time to stop running.”

The words stayed with me long after Tarquin had left. As I sat alone on the beach, the waves lapping at me feet, I let myself feel the bond, let myself imagine what it would be like to see Azriel again.

To tell him that I missed him.

To tell him that I loved him.

And as I let those thoughts linger, I gave the bond a good, hard tug.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The Sidra glittered far below, its tranquil waters a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. He leaned heavily on the railing, his wings drooping slightly behind him, their usual strength absent. The silence around him felt oppressive, broken only by the faint whispers of the wind.

He missed her.

It had been six months.

Six long months since she had left Velaris, since she had left him.

Six months of longing for her.

Every very corner of Velaris seemed to echo with her absence. The training ring felt empty without her determined presence, without the fire in her eyes that lit up when she pushed herself. The dining room was quieter, duller, without her laughter—or her silence, even, when she was lost in thought. Everywhere he went, he felt the void she’d left behind, and it was slowly suffocating him.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily as he closed his eyes.

The bond pulsed faintly in his chest, a quiet, persistent reminder of her. It had been so muted since she’d left, distant like the fading echo of a song he couldn’t quite hear anymore. But tonight, as he stood there staring out over the city, everything changed.

It wasn’t faint anymore.

A strong tug pulled at the bond, sharp and unrelenting, and his breath caught. It felt like her—vivid and unmistakable, like her very essence had reached across the distance and grabbed hold of him. His wings flared slightly, his instincts roaring to life as his heart hammered in his chest.

His Angel.

The bond didn’t just hum—it surged, pulling hard enough that he stumbled forward, gripping the railing to steady himself. He didn’t know if she was aware of it, if she realized what she was doing, but it didn’t matter. It was her, raw and present, and it was enough to break the fragile control he’d been clinging to.

He wanted to go to her. The urge to follow that bond, to winnow straight to her side, was overwhelming. Every muscle in his body screamed to move, to fly, to reach her. But he stayed rooted in place, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the railing tighter.

The tug came again, strong and insistent, like a plea whispered across the space between them. His jaw tightened as he tried to decipher the emotions spilling through the bond. It wasn’t fear or pain—it was something softer, something quieter. A yearning that mirrored his own.

She missed him.

The realization hit him like a blow. He could feel it now, the faint ache laced into the pull, the lingering trace of her thoughts pressing against the bond. She was reaching for him. After six long months, she was reaching for him.

Azriel’s wings sagged slightly, his hazel eyes closing as a thousand emotions surged through him. Relief, guilt, longing, and love tangled together in a knot so tight it felt impossible to unravel. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the bond pulse strongly beneath his palm, as though it were alive.

But what if she didn’t realize what she was doing? What if she wasn’t reaching out consciously, and this was simply a reflex, a moment of weakness? What if… what if she didn’t want him?

That thought stopped him cold, his wings stiffening behind him. He didn’t deserve her, not after what had happened. Not after he’d left her.

But the bond didn’t care about his guilt, didn’t care about the endless nights he’d spent replaying that moment in his mind. It called to him, her presence burning through the distance with a strength that left him breathless.

Azriel leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the railing, his wings folding tightly around him like a shield. He didn’t know how long he stood there, gripping the bond with everything he had as it pulled at him, stronger and stronger with each passing moment. But as the hours stretched on, one thing became painfully clear:

He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep pretending the bond didn’t exist, that the love he felt for her wasn’t clawing at him every second of every day.

But what if she still didn’t want him? What if, even now, she was tugging on the bond out of habit, not out of need? What if he showed up at the Summer Court only to find that she had moved on?

Azriel shook his head, exhaling sharply. He didn’t have the answers. All he had was the unrelenting pull of her, the bond tying them together no matter how far apart they were. And tonight, that bond was stronger than it had been in months.

As he turned away from the balcony and walked back into the house, his heart pounding and his mind racing, one thought echoed louder than all the rest:

She was reaching for him.

And he wasn’t sure he could stay away much longer.

******

Tarquin POV

The air in Velaris was cool, the soft light of the setting sun casting golden hues over the Sidra as Tarquin arrived at the townhouse. The High Lord of Summer Court was greeted warmly by Rhysand, his easy smile in place as he gestured for Tarquin to step inside.

“It’s been far too long,” Rhysand said as he led Tarquin to the sitting room, where Feyre and Cassian waited. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth filling the room as the Summer Court ruler settled into a chair.

“It has,” Tarquin agreed, his ocean-blue eyes flicking around the familiar space. “But I’m glad to be here, even if the times demand it.”

Rhysand nodded, pouring Tarquin a glass of wine before sitting across from him. “I appreciate you coming. I know there’s much to discuss about the remnants of Hybern, but first, tell me—how is my little sister?”

Tarquin’s face softened at the mention of Y/n, a rare tenderness crossing his features. “She’s doing well,” he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. “It took time, but she’s healing. She’s slowly remembering the person she was before everything… happened.”

Feyre exhaled softly, relief visible in her expression as she leaned forward slightly. “That’s good to hear,” she said. “We’ve all been worried about her.”

Tarquin nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he continued. “She’s been spending her days playing with the children on the beaches, using her water magic again. It’s been good for her, I think, to be surrounded by laughter, by joy. She’s even started dancing at our court gatherings again. And she has started sparring with me again. She is putting much needed muscle back on and she is beginning to look like a sun kissed Summer Court princess again.”

Cassian smiled faintly, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “That sounds like the Y/n we knew.”

“But,” Tarquin said, his voice turning more serious, “there’s something else.”

Rhysand’s expression sharpened, his piercing violet eyes locking onto Tarquin’s. “What is it?”

Tarquin hesitated for a moment before speaking, his tone carefully measured. “She still carries a fear, a deep one. Not just from what happened, but from what was done to her.”

Feyre’s eyes widened, her hand clutching the arm of her chair. Cassian straightened, his brows furrowing.

“They carved vicious wound into her abdomen,” Tarquin said quietly, his voice laced with anger that still simmered from the memory. “Something meant to humiliate her, to break her, and used faebane to ensure it wouldn’t heal. A cruel trick to make sure she never forgets what happened to her at their hands She hides it well, but I know she’s terrified of what Azriel will think if he ever sees it.”

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of Tarquin’s words pressing heavily on all of them. Rhysand’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with fury. “She shouldn’t have to bear that alone,” he said, his voice low. “Not that. Not ever.”

“She thinks it makes her unworthy,” Tarquin continued. “She doesn’t say it, but I see the way she avoids mirrors, the way she flinches if someone’s gaze lingers too long. And I know she’s afraid. Afraid that Azriel won’t accept her, that he’ll see her as broken.”

“He wouldn’t,” Feyre said firmly, her voice trembling with conviction. “Azriel loves her. He would never see her as anything less than perfect.”

Tarquin nodded. “I believe that too. But she doesn’t. Not yet. And until she does, I don’t think she’ll come back to Velaris. She’s still healing, but this…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This will take more than time. It will take him.”

Rhysand’s brows lifted slightly. “What do you mean?”

Tarquin met Rhysand’s gaze, his voice steady. “It may take Azriel coming to her at the Summer Court. Showing her, with no doubt, that he accepts her fully—scar and all. That she doesn’t have to be afraid.”

Feyre glanced at Rhysand, her expression a mix of hope and determination. Cassian, uncharacteristically quiet, nodded in agreement. Rhysand’s violet eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his mind clearly turning over the possibilities.

“She misses him,” Tarquin added softly. “She won’t admit it, but I see it in her eyes. And I think he misses her too.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight as he processed Tarquin’s words. “If Azriel knew…” he began, his voice trailing off.

“Then maybe it’s time he did,” Tarquin said firmly. “Because I don’t think either of them can truly heal without the other.”

The room fell into a quiet stillness, the truth of Tarquin’s words sinking in. Rhysand’s expression softened slightly, though the weight of his thoughts was clear.

“Let’s hope she finds her way back,” he said finally, his voice quiet but resolute. “Or that Azriel has the courage to go after her. Because I don’t think either of them can survive losing this bond again.”

******

Rhysand POV

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes fixed on Azriel, who stood stiffly across from him in the quiet privacy of the study. The room was lit only by the soft glow of the fire in the hearth, casting long shadows on the walls. Azriel’s wings were tight against his back, his expression unreadable as always, though Rhysand could see the tension in his posture.

“Tarquin visited yesterday,” Rhysand began, his voice calm but laced with something heavier. “He came to discuss Hybern’s remnants, but most of our conversation revolved around Y/n.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his hazel eyes locking onto Rhysand’s.

Rhysand studied his spymaster for a moment, the silence stretching between them before he continued. “He said she’s healing. That she’s remembering who she was before… everything.”

Azriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his gaze flickering briefly to the fire before returning to Rhysand. “That’s good,” he said evenly, though his voice was quieter than usual.

“It is,” Rhysand agreed. “But he also said she’s still carrying a deep fear. About her scars.”

Azriel stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Her scars?”

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening. “She’s afraid, Azriel. Afraid of what they mean. Afraid that they make her unworthy, especially in your eyes.”

Azriel took a step forward, his wings flaring slightly behind him. “I’ve never thought that,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “I could never think that.”

“I know,” Rhysand said gently. “But she doesn’t. Tarquin said she avoids mirrors, that she flinches if someone looks at her for too long. She’s convinced that you won’t accept her, that you’ll see her as broken.”

Azriel’s face twisted, a rare glimpse of emotion breaking through his stoic mask. “That’s not true,” he said hoarsely. “She’s not broken. She’s—” He cut himself off, his wings trembling slightly as he tried to collect himself. “She’s perfect. Scars and all.”

Rhysand leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he regarded Azriel carefully. “Then you need to tell her that.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She left, Rhys. She went back to Summer Court. I’m not sure if she wants to see me...or if she would even be ready.”

“She went back to heal,” Rhysand said firmly. “And she’s been doing that. But healing doesn’t erase the doubts she’s carrying. It doesn’t erase the fear that you don’t want her.”

Azriel looked up sharply, his eyes blazing. “She’s my mate. Of course I want her.”

Rhysand raised a brow, his tone turning pointed. “You remember she watched you push her away for months while you spent time with Elain. And now with her scars, it makes her more cautious.”

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his wings trembling slightly as he stood before Rhysand. The firelight in the study cast shadows across his face, but it couldn’t hide the torment in his hazel eyes.

“I failed her, Rhys,” he said, his voice low and strained. “When I went back for her… she was gone. And that image—her surrounded by those soldiers as I flew off with Elain—it haunts me every single day. I see it every time I close my eyes.”

Rhysand remained silent, his expression carefully neutral, though his violet eyes shone with understanding.

“It took us three months to find her,” Azriel continued, his voice trembling with the weight of his guilt. “Three months of her being tortured, of her enduring things no one should ever have to endure. And all that time, I felt the bond. Faint, but still there. I felt her pain, her fear, her agony. She didn’t even know she was sending it down the bond, but I could feel it. And I couldn’t do anything.”

He began pacing the room, his steps heavy and uneven, as if the weight of his memories was dragging him down. “When we finally found her… she was so broken, Rhys. So bloodied and beaten, barely clinging to life. I can still see her lying there in that filthy cell, her wings torn, her body trembling. And all I could think was that I should have been faster. I should have found her sooner.”

Rhysand’s brow furrowed, his hands clasping together as he listened intently. He didn’t interrupt, allowing Azriel the space to speak the words he had clearly been holding in for far too long.

“I don’t know if she’ll ever truly heal from what they did to her,” Azriel said, his voice breaking. “I don’t know if I’ll ever truly forgive myself for letting it happen. For choosing Elain over her in that moment. I thought—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I thought she could handle it. I thought she’d survive until I came back. But I was wrong. And she paid the price for it.”

Azriel turned to face Rhysand then, his expression raw and unguarded. “When I look at her now, all I see is what I failed to do. How I couldn’t protect her when she needed me most. And I’m terrified, Rhys. Terrified that I might fail her again. And I would never forgive myself.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair. “Tarquin suggested that she might not come back to Velaris. Not unless you go to her and show her that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Azriel’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. “And what if she doesn’t want me?” he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his voice startling even to Rhysand.

Rhysand’s expression softened, and he rose from his chair, walking around the desk to stand in front of Azriel. “Az, she misses you. Tarquin said she won’t admit it, but it’s written all over her. She’s just as afraid as you are. But if you keep waiting for her to come to you, you might lose her for good.”

Rhysand rose from his chair, crossing the room to stand in front of Azriel. He placed a firm hand on his spymaster’s shoulder, his violet eyes meeting Azriel’s with a steady, unwavering gaze. “Az,” he said softly, “you’re carrying the weight of something that wasn’t yours to bear alone. You did what you thought was right in an impossible situation. You saved Elain. And when you realized what had happened, you did everything in your power to find my sister. And you did.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” Azriel said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She suffered for three months, Rhys. How do I come back from that?”

“You don’t do it alone,” Rhysand said firmly. “She is strong. Stronger than you think. But she’s hurting too, Azriel, and part of that hurt comes from thinking you won’t accept her. You can’t change what happened, but you can show her what she means to you now.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his wings shifting restlessly. “I don’t know if I deserve her,” he admitted. “Not after everything.”

“You’re her mate,” Rhysand said, his tone softening. “And whether you think you deserve her or not, that bond exists for a reason. You’re tied to her, Azriel. And she’s tied to you. But if you don’t fight for her, if you don’t show her that she’s worth every ounce of your love, you’ll lose her.”

Azriel closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I don’t even know if she’ll listen to me.”

“Then you go to her,” Rhysand said. “You look her in the eyes, and you tell her everything you just told me. Every word. You let her decide if she wants to come back.”

Azriel opened his eyes, meeting Rhysand’s steady gaze. “And if she doesn’t?”

Rhysand squeezed his shoulder. “Then at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had. And that’s all you can do.”

[luvu2themoonand2saturn]

one too many

joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: absolutely sickening fluff. reader is drunk and clingy and sleepy (ie. me after 2 glasses of wine). endless pet names and soft, protective joe <3

word count: 1.6k

summary: joe takes care of you during a night out

all i want is to be babied like this oh. my. god. enjoy my loves!!

“I’m just going to run to the washroom, okay sweets?” Joe said to you quietly, beginning to remove his arm from your waist, shifting you from his thighs. 

“I’ll come,” you mumbled, standing up with him and reaching for his hand.

Taking your face in his hands, prepared for your incoherent disappointment, he replied, “Sweetheart, we can’t go to the same bathroom. I promise I’ll be back before you know it, ok?”

Realization dawned on your face as you murmured, “Oh, yeah.” Despite this, the grip of your hands on his forearms hadn’t loosened.

“Hey, Ja’Marr,” Joe called out. “Keep an eye on her while I run to the washroom, will you?” He smiled, gently taking your hands from his arms and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back, pretty baby.”

“Bye, Joe.”

Ja’Marr pulled you back into the booth where the rest of your friends were gathered, nursing drinks and recovering from dancing. Several pairs of heels were loose under the table, having been discarded by their fed-up owners. Your eyes followed Joe as he moved across the room, weaving between people in varying states of stability,  until he was out of your sight. Your gaze blurred as you rested your head on your fist, elbow on the table. You were colder without him. Your crop top and mini skirt were far from warm enough if you weren’t either dancing in a crowd or tucked against Joe’s side. You shivered involuntarily. 

“You good, (y/n)?” Ja’Marr asked.

Turning your head to face him, you smiled softly, mumbling, “Just a little chilly.”

“Here he comes,” he said, gesturing towards Joe, who was already striding back towards your booth.

Slipping in beside you, he said, “Told you I’d be quick, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his upper arm. The drunken fatigue, amplified by how energetically you’d danced throughout the evening, was starting to properly hit you. 

In the dim light, Joe saw the outline of goosebumps on your bare arms. “You cold, honey?”

“A little,” you replied. “Better now you’re here, though.”

He reached to pull his jacket off of the hook at the end of the booth. “Sit forward a bit, baby,” he said, settling the jacket around your shoulders. “Arms through now, there you go. Better?”

“Mhm,” you hummed in sleepy satisfaction, snuggling back underneath his arm, your eyes drifting shut. 

He finished the last sip of his drink as he let you slump against him. He had only had one this evening, wanting to be in the right shape to get you home and into bed in one piece. You, needless to say, had indulged in more than one drink. 

The conversation between Joe and your friends began to fade into the back of your consciousness, the sounds in the bar lulling you into a state of relaxation. Joe’s arm securely wrapped around your waist, his steady heartbeat in your ear, and his oversized jacket wrapped around you like a blanket didn’t help. You began to drift off, your head drooping against his chest. 

“Hey, baby - is she asleep?” Joe asked incredulously. 

Sam nodded in the affirmative. “Sure looks like it, man. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who can be hollering on the dance floor one hour and asleep on the edge of it the next.”

“Yeah, she’s a special one,” Joe chuckled fondly. Gently rubbing your back to try and raise you from your slumber, Joe said quietly, “Babygirl. Hey, baby, wake up. You fell asleep.”

You blinked awake, dazed, trying to regain your bearings. “No I didn’t,” you insisted. “Just closed my eyes for a second.”  

“Sure, honey. D’you want to head home? It’s getting late.”

“I don’t mind Joe, whatever you want.”

He shared a look with the rest of your friend group gathered around the table, none of whom envied him the task of getting you up and out of the booth. He didn’t mind though - you were especially cuddly and affectionate when inebriated and he would always do anything to take good care of you. “I think it’s time to go, baby. Do you need anything before we head off?” 

“Have to say goodbye,” you mumbled, vaguely gesturing around the booth as your eyes threatened to close once again. 

“Yes, sweetheart, say goodbye.”

“Bye guys, don’t have too much fun without me!” you said, the effects of the many cocktails you’d downed that evening heavy in your tone. 

A chorus of “Bye, (y/n)!” rose from the group, along with one, “Good luck with her, bro.”

Joe laughed. “This isn’t my first rodeo. She just needs to get to bed.”

“Bed sounds nice, Joey. Will you come with me?”

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re gonna stand up now, ok?” Joe helped you out of the booth and onto your feet, one arm around your waist to keep you upright against him, the other holding your small purse and his car keys. He wished everyone a good night and safe trips home, thanking them for the evening. 

Walking out of the bar, you yawned. “I’m sleepy,” you said, as if only realizing for the first time.

“That you are, pretty girl,” he chuckled. “I’ll have you home as soon as I can, okay?” Clicking the car unlocked, he helped you into the passenger seat, buckling your belt for you before getting into the driver’s side and starting the engine. 

He reversed out of the parking space, hand on the back of your headrest as he looked out the rear window. You couldn’t help but admire the view. “You’re so pretty when you’re driving,” you mused.

“Yeah? Thanks, sweetheart. You’re pretty cute in my passenger seat.” You blushed, looking out the window, suddenly bashful. “You blushing over there, sweet girl? It’s true, y’know.” His hand reached over the gearshift to rest on your bare thigh, stroking your skin with his thumb. You clasped his hand with both of yours, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles before holding your interlocked fingers against your cheek. You held his hand for the rest of the drive home, him giving you a gentle squeeze whenever you started to doze off.

“Stay awake for me just a little longer, honey.”

Finally, you were through the gate and down the winding driveway of your home. Joe switched off the ignition, hopping out of the car and coming around to your side to help you out. “Welcome home, sleepyhead.” Guiding you up the steps of the porch, at least one arm always around you, he fiddled with the lock, getting you both inside before bolting it again. “Hang on there, sweets, hold onto my shoulders,” he said, bending down to undo the little straps of your sandals before kicking off his own shoes. 

When he stood back up to his full height, he was met with your adoring and almost sad gaze looking up at him. “What is it, babygirl?” he asked softly.

“You just take such good care of me. I didn’t know people like you existed, much less what I did to deserve one,” you said quietly, sobering for an instant. 

He pulled you into his chest in a warm embrace. “You deserve the world, sweet girl. I promise you, I’m the lucky one here. I love looking after you. I love you.”

“I love you too, so much. Thank you.” 

He held you for a moment longer, gently swaying you side to side, before pulling back, all business. “Okay, mission get (y/n) to bed, commencing now. Let’s get you some water.” 

Having filled up your water bottle and gotten you to take two Advil, Joe led you upstairs to your bedroom. While you stripped out of your going out clothes, Joe tossed a pair of boyshorts and one of his long sleeve tees onto the bed for you to change into. You gratefully got into the comfy clothes, happy to discard your mini skirt. Joe, in a fresh pair of boxers, deposited your clothes into the laundry hamper before guiding you into the bathroom, hands on your waist. 

“Skincare time, baby.” You started to groan, just wanting to crawl into bed, but he cut you off. “Ah ah ah, last time I put you to bed without getting your makeup off you were so mad at me in the morning. Never again, sweet pea. Just a little makeup remover and moisturizer, alright?” 

He kissed your cheek before you started swiping a cotton pad across your face, discarding it once it was thoroughly streaked with black. He squeezed some moisturizer onto his fingertips, rubbing his hands together for a moment before gently applying it to your face. Another kiss, this one deposited on your nose, before he handed you your toothbrush, toothpaste already applied. While you brushed, trying to contain the foam with moderate success, he did his own face washing and teeth brushing.

After you’d gargled your mouthwash, Joe guided you to bed, hands on your hips, walking behind you. He pulled the covers back and you crawled in, curling up happily on the soft mattress and letting out an involuntary sigh of satisfaction. Joe climbed in on his side, switching off the lamp and gathering you into his arms. 

“C’mere, baby, I’ve got you. You rest that pretty head and we’ll hope you’re in decent shape in the morning.”

“Mhm, I love you, Joey,” you mumbled into his chest, nuzzling against his skin, craving every ounce of his warmth and touch.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Sleep well.” 

By the time he pressed a goodnight kiss to the crown of your head, your mind was already fading into a deep, dreamless sleep.