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novaursa · 2 days ago

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The Second Daughter (the flight)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the promise

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

Excerpts from Fire and Blood: The Life of Y/N Targaryen

The Courtship of Jason Lannister and Princess Y/N

Grand Maester Mellos records:

"In the weeks following the royal family’s departure from Casterly Rock, the bond between Princess Y/N Targaryen and Lord Jason Lannister did not wane but instead grew stronger, despite the distance that separated them. Jason, ever attentive, continued to send tokens of his affection—thoughtfully chosen gifts that spoke to the Princess’s unique circumstances and tastes.

Among these were vials of rare perfumes from the Reach, their scents carefully described by the accompanying notes, and fine silks that she could feel and appreciate through touch. Most notably, Jason sent fresh bundles of the same flowers he had gifted her during the gardens at The Red Keep, their fragrance a clear reminder of his devotion. The court took notice of these gestures, murmuring among themselves about the persistence of the Lord of Casterly Rock and his unusual attentiveness to the blind princess.

Though Jason’s letters were undoubtedly written with care, he refrained from addressing the Princess directly in writing, knowing she could not read them herself. Instead, he wrote to King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra, formally reiterating his proposal and pledging his loyalty to the Targaryen crown."

Mushroom recounts:

"I swear on my hump, Jason Lannister is a man who knows how to woo a woman! Not with empty words, mind you, but with gifts so thoughtful they’d melt even the coldest of hearts. The perfumes! The silks! The flowers! Oh, how the court buzzed with gossip about each new delivery.

One day, I saw the Princess herself, seated in the gardens with her Septa and her sworn shield, holding a freshly arrived bundle of flowers. She lifted them to her nose, a small smile gracing her lips, and said, ‘He remembers.’ I tell you, her words set the court ablaze! Some said she was smitten; others claimed she was merely being polite. But I knew better. That smile spoke volumes, my friends—more than any letter could.

And when the news broke that the Princess had accepted Jason’s proposal, the realm went wild! It was as if a dragon had taken flight over the Seven Kingdoms. Every lord and lady from Dorne to the Wall had something to say about it, most of it envious whispers or loud complaints about Jason’s audacity to charm not one, but two Targaryen princesses."

The Wedding Announcement

Septa Rhaedis writes:

"After much deliberation and consultation with his council, King Viserys I decreed that the weddings of his daughters—Princess Rhaenyra to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Y/N to Lord Jason Lannister—would take place on the same day. The decision, though controversial, was made to solidify alliances across the realm and to celebrate the unity of House Targaryen with its strongest vassals.

This announcement, while met with joy in some quarters, sparked widespread debate. The idea of the younger Princess marrying a man of Jason Lannister’s reputation unsettled many, particularly among the court in King’s Landing. Queen Alicent, though ever the picture of decorum, was said to have privately expressed concern about the pairing, particularly given the political implications.

Nevertheless, the King’s will was final, and preparations for the joint wedding began in earnest. The date was pushed back by one moon’s turn to allow for the grandeur such an event demanded. The court buzzed with excitement, and whispers of the festivities reached even the farthest corners of the realm."

Mushroom’s version:

"Now, here’s where it gets interesting, dear readers! Jason Lannister, sitting pretty at his golden Rock, didn’t wait for a raven from King’s Landing to hear the news. Oh no, the whispers of his betrothal to Princess Y/N reached him long before that, carried by merchants, minstrels, and meddling lords who couldn’t keep their tongues still.

I imagine Jason sitting there, smug as a lion with a fresh kill, grinning ear to ear as his bannermen scrambled to offer their congratulations. ‘The Princess is mine,’ he must’ve thought. And who could blame him? The man had secured not only a match with the most unique and beloved of the Targaryen sisters but also the King’s blessing to boot!

Of course, some claim he celebrated the news with a grand feast, while others insist he sent gifts to King Viserys and Princess Y/N immediately, reaffirming his gratitude and devotion. Whatever the truth, one thing was clear: Jason Lannister had won a prize few would ever dare to dream of, and he knew it."

Grand Maester Mellos concludes:

"Thus, the stage was set for a union that would reshape the political landscape of the realm. The joint weddings of Rhaenyra and Y/N promised to be a spectacle unrivaled in the history of Westeros, a moment where love, duty, and ambition converged beneath the dragons’ wings. Whether this union would bring peace or further ignite the simmering tensions within the realm remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: the realm would never forget the day House Targaryen and House Lannister came together in such a grand display of power and unity."

The sun was high over the golden spires of Casterly Rock when the first whispers reached Jason Lannister. A merchant caravan had arrived from King’s Landing, its leader a boisterous man who carried tales of royal decrees and alliances forged. Jason had been in the solar, overseeing the accounts of his mines, when the steward knocked on the door with the news.

“My lord,” the steward began, his voice hesitant, “there are rumors—whispers, really—coming from King’s Landing.”

Jason looked up from the ledger, his green eyes narrowing. “Rumors are worth less than a clipped coin,” he replied sharply. “Speak plainly.”

The steward swallowed hard, stepping closer. “It is said, my lord, that the Princess Y/N has accepted your proposal and that the King has announced your betrothal to the court.”

Jason’s quill froze mid-stroke. He leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smile he struggled to suppress. “Whispers, you say?” he mused, though the excitement in his voice betrayed him.

“Aye, my lord,” the steward confirmed. “And more. It is said the King plans to hold your wedding alongside that of Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon. A grand event, they’re calling it.”

Jason stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. He strode to the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the sprawling Westerlands below. “And how credible are these whispers?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative.

“Credible enough that the lords of the West are already talking,” the steward admitted. “I thought it best you know before a raven arrives.”

Jason turned back to the steward, his smile now fully formed. “You’ve done well,” he said, his tone warm. “See to it that the merchants are rewarded for their news. Generously.”

The steward bowed quickly and left, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts. For a moment, he stood there, his gaze distant. Then, with a sharp exhale, he called for his personal attendant.

When the young man appeared, Jason was already pacing. “Prepare the hall for a feast tonight,” he ordered. “No, prepare the entire Rock. Wine, food, music—I want every corner of this castle celebrating before the sun sets.”

The attendant blinked, clearly startled. “A feast, my lord? May I ask what we are celebrating?”

Jason paused, his expression softening. “The future,” he said simply. “Now, go.”

As the day wore on, the whispers spread like wildfire through the castle. By the time the sun set below the horizon, every bannerman and servant within Casterly Rock knew the news: Jason Lannister was to marry Princess Y/N Targaryen. The great hall was alive with activity, its golden banners fluttering in the breeze as servants rushed to prepare the feast.

Jason entered the hall that evening dressed in his finest, his eyes bright with pride. The room erupted in cheers as he strode to the high table, his bannermen rising to toast him.

“Lord Lannister!” one of his knights bellowed, raising a goblet. “Soon to be husband to a dragon! The Seven smile upon you, my lord.”

Jason laughed, lifting his own goblet. “If the Seven have granted me this fortune,” he replied, “then I’ll toast to them every day for the rest of my life.”

As the night wore on, Jason found himself surrounded by well-wishers and sycophants, each eager to share in his triumph. Yet his thoughts kept returning to you, to the serene smile that had haunted his dreams since the moment he left King’s Landing. He could almost hear your voice, soft and steady, as you thanked him for the flowers and silks he had sent.

When the hall grew quieter, Jason leaned back in his chair, tracing the rim of his goblet with his thumb. His gaze drifted to the simple necklace hanging beneath his doublet—a token you had given him before he departed from the Red Keep. He smiled faintly, his mind already racing with plans for the days to come.

“Soon,” he murmured to himself. “Soon, you’ll be here, and this will be your home.”

For the first time in years, Jason felt truly content. The road ahead might be fraught with challenges, but for now, he allowed himself to bask in the victory he had so desperately sought—and the promise of a future that felt as golden as the halls of Casterly Rock.

The sun poured through the windows of the solar in Maegor’s Holdfast, casting light you felt on your skin and onto the embroidery frame set before you. Your fingers worked deftly, guiding the needle and thread with a precision that seemed almost magical to those who watched. The small, delicate shape of a dragonfly was beginning to take form—a gift for your younger half-sister, Helaena, whose fascination with all things that flutter and crawl was well known.

Seated nearby, Aegon and Aemond played with small wooden dragons, their laughter occasionally breaking the serene quiet of the room. Aemond, ever eager to win his brother’s approval, narrated an imaginary battle between their toys, his voice rising and falling with enthusiasm. Aegon, sprawled across a cushioned bench, seemed less interested in the game and more intent on watching you.

“You’re always making something for Helaena,” Aegon observed after a moment, his tone faintly accusatory.

You smiled softly, your fingers never faltering as you guided the needle. “Helaena loves dragonflies,” you said simply. “She’ll be happy when she sees it.”

Aemond looked up from his dragons, his violet eyes wide with curiosity. “Do you think she’ll wear it, Y/N?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“I hope so,” you replied, tilting your head slightly toward him. “But even if she doesn’t, I’ll be glad she has something made just for her.”

Aemond nodded solemnly, returning to his game. Aegon, however, continued to frown, his brow furrowed as he watched you work.

“Why do you care so much about making her happy?” he asked, his tone sharper now. “She doesn’t make things for you.”

You paused, your fingers stilling on the fabric for a brief moment before you turned your face toward him. “Because, Aegon, it’s not about what someone does for you. It’s about what you feel for them. Helaena is my sister, just as you and Aemond are my brothers. That’s reason enough.”

Aegon snorted, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “I still think it’s a waste of time,” he muttered, leaning back on the bench.

You resumed your work, your voice calm but firm as you said, “And I think you might feel differently if someone took the time to make something for you.”

Aegon opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by Aemond, who had grown bored of his dragons and now looked up at you with a bright smile. “Y/N,” he said eagerly, “will you make something for me, too? Maybe a dragon?”

You smiled warmly, nodding. “Of course, Aemond. I’ll make you the finest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms.”

Aemond beamed, clearly delighted, while Aegon rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. After a moment, however, his expression shifted, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied you.

“Do you want to marry him?” Aegon asked suddenly, his tone blunt.

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Marry who, Aegon?” you asked gently, though you already knew the answer.

“Jason Lannister,” he said, his voice tinged with distaste. “Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s already done.”

You set down your needle carefully, turning your full attention to him. “The King has given his blessing,” you said softly. “And I’ve accepted Lord Jason’s proposal. Yes, I will marry him.”

Aegon scowled, crossing his arms. “But why him? He’s—he’s so... proud. And loud. I don’t like him.”

You tilted your head slightly, your expression calm. “Have you talked to him, Aegon? Beyond casual greeting or a banter.” you asked gently.

“No,” he admitted, his scowl deepening. “But I’ve heard things.”

“What kind of things?” Aemond piped up, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Bad things,” Aegon muttered, refusing to elaborate further.

You sighed softly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Aegon’s arm. “Aegon,” you said quietly, “I know this is strange for you. It’s strange for me too. But Jason has been kind to me. He’s thoughtful and patient, and I believe he genuinely cares for me.”

Aegon frowned but said nothing, his gaze shifting to the floor. Aemond, however, looked up at you with a small smile. “If you like him, Y/N, then he must be good,” he said earnestly.

You smiled warmly, your fingers brushing lightly against Aemond’s cheek. “Thank you, Aemond,” you said softly. “That means a great deal to me.”

Aegon muttered something under his breath again, but he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he leaned back on the bench, a sullen expression on his face as he watched you pick up your needle and thread once more.

The room fell quiet again, save for the soft hum of your voice as you began to hum a familiar lullaby. Aemond returned to his wooden dragons, and even Aegon seemed to relax slightly, though his gaze lingered on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. For now, the matter was settled, but you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would remain so.

The familiar scent of the Dragonpit greeted you as you entered, the acrid tang of sulfur and aged stone mingling in the air. Your steps were light but sure, guided as always by Ser Lorent, who walked just ahead. His armor clinked softly with each movement, a comforting sound that steadied you as the Dragonkeepers approached.

“Princess,” one of them greeted, his voice low and reverent. “Silverwing awaits.”

You inclined your head slightly in acknowledgment. “Thank you. Please guide me to her.”

The Dragonkeeper stepped closer, his hand hovering just above your arm, ready to assist. You felt the faint change in the air as he led you further into the pit, the heat of the dragons’ breath brushing against your skin like a living thing. Silverwing’s presence loomed ahead, her steady breaths filling the vast space.

As you neared, a low, rumbling coo echoed from the great dragon, the sound resonating in your chest. You smiled softly, your voice warm as you called to her. “Silverwing, my dearest friend.”

The dragon’s reply was immediate—a soft growl of recognition that rumbled through the pit. You reached out instinctively, your hand finding the smooth, cool scales of her snout. Her warmth seeped into your skin, grounding you as you traced the familiar ridges with your fingertips.

“She’s always so gentle with you,” Ser Lorent observed, his voice tinged with admiration. “As if she understands.”

“She does,” you said simply, your tone steady. “She’s my eyes in the sky.”

Silverwing shifted slightly, her great body moving with care as the Dragonkeepers guided you to her side. The ladder to the saddle was secured, and one of them murmured, “She’s steady, Your Grace. She’ll wait for you.”

You nodded, your hand trailing along Silverwing’s flank as you found the ladder. “Thank you,” you said quietly, feeling for the first rung.

Ser Lorent stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll be here, Princess. Should you need anything.”

You smiled faintly, your confidence unwavering as you began to climb. The leather of the ladder was warm beneath your hands, and you counted each rung as you ascended, your movements practiced and deliberate. Silverwing remained perfectly still, her massive form as unmoving as the stone around you.

When you reached the saddle, you settled yourself with care, your hands instinctively finding the reins. The familiar weight of the straps and buckles reassured you, and you took a deep breath, the scent of dragonhide and ash filling your lungs.

“Ready, Your Grace?” one of the Dragonkeepers called from below.

You nodded, your voice clear. “Ready.”

Silverwing shifted beneath you, her muscles coiling with restrained power. You leaned forward slightly, your hand brushing the smooth scales of her neck. “Take us up, my friend,” you murmured in High Valyrian. “Guide me.”

With a powerful beat of her wings, Silverwing launched herself into the sky, the rush of wind and heat enveloping you as the ground fell away. You held tight to the reins, trusting her completely as she climbed higher and higher, the city below shrinking into a patchwork of rooftops and winding streets.

The wind whipped through your hair, carrying with it the faint cries of gulls and the distant hum of life in King’s Landing. You tilted your head slightly, feeling the cool air shift around you as Silverwing leveled out, her flight smooth and steady. She moved with purpose, her instincts guiding her through the skies as if she knew exactly where you wished to go.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of the flight wash over you. The rhythmic beat of Silverwing’s wings, the steady rise and fall of her body beneath you—it was as if you were one with her, seeing the world through her strength and grace.

“Take me to the cliffs,” you murmured softly, trusting Silverwing to understand.

The dragon responded with a subtle shift, her flight turning toward the coastline where the waves crashed against the rocky shore. You smiled, your heart lifting as you felt the freedom of the skies, a world without walls or limitations. Silverwing was your guide, your eyes, your companion—and with her, you were limitless.

Silverwing descended gracefully, her massive wings stirring the salty sea air as she landed on the wide, flat expanse of the cliff. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below filled the air, mingling with the soft rumble of the dragon’s breath. As she came to a halt, you felt the shift in her weight beneath you, her body settling with careful precision.

The Dragonkeepers had taught you how to dismount safely even in the wildest of locations, and you did so now with the same practiced ease. Your hand brushed along Silverwing’s flank as you slid to the ground, the cool stone beneath your boots grounding you. You stood for a moment, taking in the sounds around you—the distant cries of gulls, the steady rhythm of the waves, the soft exhale of Silverwing’s breath.

“Thank you, my friend,” you said softly in High Valyrian, your voice carrying a warmth reserved only for her. Silverwing responded with a low rumble, the sound reverberating through your chest.

You walked a few steps away, your hand trailing along the rocky surface of the cliff until you reached the edge. The wind whipped past you, carrying the scent of salt and distant greenery. You tilted your head slightly, your unseeing eyes gazing toward the horizon as your mind drifted.

The events of the past year swirled in your thoughts like leaves caught in a tempest. So much had changed—your sister Rhaenyra’s betrothal, your own engagement to Jason, the endless whispers of court and the weight of your father’s decisions. Jason’s presence lingered most vividly in your mind, his deep voice and steady hand a constant source of intrigue and comfort. He had been patient, thoughtful, and kind, yet his ambition was unmistakable. You wondered if you could ever truly understand him, or if he could understand you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as your thoughts deepened. Am I doing the right thing? The question echoed in your mind, unbidden but insistent. Marriage to Jason felt like stepping into the unknown, a leap of faith without the certainty of sight. Yet there was something about him—his steadiness, his sincerity—that gave you hope.

As the wind swirled around you, a sudden flash of light danced across your thoughts, an image so fleeting it left you questioning if it had been real. You saw—or perhaps felt—a great shadow looming over the land, its wings spreading wide as fire rained down below. A figure stood at its center, but their face was obscured, their form wreathed in flame and smoke.

The vision was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving you breathless. Your hand reached instinctively for the edge of the cliff, grounding yourself as you tried to make sense of what you had experienced. The air seemed heavier now, the cries of the gulls distant and muffled.

Silverwing let out a soft, questioning growl, her keen senses picking up on your unease. You turned back to her, your hand brushing over your temple as if to banish the lingering haze. “It’s nothing,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. “Just… a passing thought.”

You approached her slowly, your fingers finding the familiar ridges of her scales. She shifted slightly, lowering her great head to your level, her presence both grounding and reassuring.

“I should return,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “The skies are calling again.”

Silverwing let out a low rumble of agreement, and you climbed back into the saddle with a practiced grace. The cliffs fell away beneath you as she launched into the air once more, the wind carrying away your thoughts as you soared above the waves. Whatever the vision had been, it could wait—for now, you had the freedom of the skies and the strength of your dragon to guide you.

The courtyard of Casterly Rock was alive with activity as Jason Lannister prepared to depart for King’s Landing. Horses were being saddled, wagons loaded with supplies, and banners bearing the golden lion of House Lannister fluttered in the crisp morning air. The journey ahead was a long one, but Jason’s spirits were high, his mind focused on the days to come.

Jason stood beside his horse, adjusting the straps of his saddle. His eyes scanned the bustling scene before him, every detail meticulously arranged under his direction. The significance of this journey was not lost on anyone—this was no mere visit to the capital; it was the journey toward his wedding, a union that would elevate the name of House Lannister to new heights.

As he placed his hand on the reins, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “Jason, a moment before you ride off to claim your dragon bride.”

Jason turned to see his uncle, Lord Damon Lannister, approaching. Damon was a man well into his fifties, his once-blond hair now streaked with silver, but his eyes were sharp, and his presence commanded respect. He was dressed in riding leathers, his sword strapped to his hip, a reminder of the battles he had once fought in service to his house.

“Uncle,” Jason greeted, inclining his head. “Come to wish me well?”

Damon chuckled, stopping beside Jason’s horse. “Something like that. Though I must say, this whole affair has me… intrigued.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on the saddle. “Intrigued how?”

Damon leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “It’s not every day a Lannister weds a Targaryen. A blind princess, no less. You’ve done what many would consider impossible.”

Jason smirked, his green eyes gleaming. “Impossible is a matter of perspective, Uncle. She is a woman of strength and grace, and I am fortunate to have earned her favor.”

Damon nodded slowly, his gaze assessing. “And yet, the court will scrutinize every move you make. They’ll whisper about your ambitions, your intentions. Are you prepared for that?”

Jason straightened, his expression hardening. “Let them whisper. I have nothing to hide. My intentions toward Y/N are sincere, and I will prove my worth to her and to the crown.”

Damon’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Spoken like a true lion. But remember, Jason, the Red Keep is a den of intrigue. Tread carefully, or you may find yourself ensnared.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason replied, his tone firm. “And I appreciate your concern, Uncle.”

Damon clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder, his grip firm. “Then go, nephew. Ride to King’s Landing and show them the strength of House Lannister. And for what it’s worth, I believe you’ve chosen well.”

Jason’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Thank you, Uncle. Your faith means more than you know.”

With that, Damon stepped back, allowing Jason to mount his horse. The lion banners were raised high as the Lannister procession began to move, their departure marked by the steady rhythm of hooves against stone. Jason glanced back once, his gaze lingering on the towering spires of Casterly Rock before turning forward, his thoughts already on the woman who awaited him in King’s Landing.

As they rode, his uncle’s words echoed in his mind. The Red Keep was indeed a den of intrigue, but Jason was ready. He was no mere suitor chasing a dream—he was a lion, and he was riding to claim his destiny.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #house targaryen #house lannister #the second daughter #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n #x reader

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sinnabarmoth · 3 days ago

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Tribute for the Dragon (15/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: With the rut drawing to a close, you and Sylus look to the future for what this means for you both.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Minor breeding kink. P in V.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (16)

Read on AO3

You soon realized that dragon ruts were not for the faint of heart. The next week of your life was the most exhausted you had ever been. Every single day, multiple times a day, Sylus found you wherever you were and fucked you within an inch of your life. He had cooled off a little, able to push aside the lustful haze to offer you some respite the longer it went on.

But that first day had been the most feral he had gotten. You hadn’t left the hoard room until late into the evening and that was just because you absolutely needed more food than what he scrounged up from the kitchen between rounds. Thankfully the entire rut didn’t need to take place in the hoard room so you at least got the cushion of the bed back to make things a little more comfortable.

You were also shocked at how sweet he was during the whole thing. Despite how rough things got and how filthy he spoke, he would always be there to help ease you back down. And if you really didn’t want to have sex, if you were just too sore for anymore he didn’t push you.

In between rounds you’d lay together and talk about what your future child was going to be like. “And you’re sure I’m not going to end up laying an egg?”

Sylus chuckled. “Yes. You won’t lay an egg.”

“But the woman who birthed you--”

“Was cursed and her womb magically altered to be able to lay a dragon egg. You are not cursed and because I am at least half human you should have a normal live birth.” Sylus assured you, “Although, the state of the baby is uncertain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I was born I looked almost entirely human except for my eyes and as I got older the scales and tail and horns grew in. The children will most likely be the same way. But I do not know what all they may grow. Some might have horns and tails and wings and scales, others may not. Maybe one grows horns and scales but no tail. Maybe another grows wings but no claws. I cannot say for sure.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about little claws or horns complicating things when they come out.” you touched your stomach. You looked back at him. “Do you want to try one more time?”

His smile sharpened. “You bounced back quick this time. Alright then, come here.” He sat up in the bed. He pulled you across his lap, your back pressed to his chest.

He receded the armor around his hands with a small groan. “Sylus, I know it hurts you don’t have to--”

“I want to be able to play with your pussy a little before hand. The pain is temporary and not important.” he dipped his now clawless hand between your legs, the soft pad of his fingers swirling over your clit.

You reclined your head back on his shoulder as little blips of pleasure heated your body. “That’s it,” he said, “Always so responsive to me.”

He removed his hand from your pussy and sucked the juices from his fingers. You whined at the loss but you only got a dark chuckle in response. “Do not worry, little bird. You’ll get my hand and much more back in a minute. But right now, I need you to do something.”

He caressed your arms and lifted them up and behind you before curling them around his horns. “Hold onto these while I play with you and do not let go. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” he sighed, feeling how tightly you were gripping his horns.

You thought he was going to go back to your pussy but instead he moved slowly, his hands gliding up and down your body at a lazy pace. He traced every dip and curve with his hands as if memorizing every inch of your body by touch alone. His mouth kissed down the column of your neck and to your shoulders. When his mouth landed on the faint mark of your mating bite he suck his teeth into your soft exposed skin. Arousal pooled between your legs as he continued to caress and tease you.

You could feel him getting hard underneath you. The hard ridge of flesh was hot and curved back to rest on your folds. You tried to grind against it but he pulled your hips back to keep them still. “Not yet.” his breath was hot in your ear, “I want you ready to burst when I put it in.”

He continued to strum your body, plucking at your most sensitive spots but without any of the relief you sought. It seemed wholly unfair that he could be so patient during a rut. Wasn’t he supposed to throw you to the bed and fuck you until you were screaming in a fit of lust filled rage? How come he was teasing you?

“Someone’s pouting.” he turned your face to his. “What do you want, little bird? What can I do to make that frown go away.”

“You can put your dick in me. That’d be a nice start.” you batted your eyelashes at him. “Please master?”

“Calling me master while I’m in rut,” he growled, biting your neck again. “Do you think that a wise decision?”

“I think it’ll get me what I want.” you smirked. “So please, will you put your dick in me and breed my pussy, master?”

“That dirty trick won’t work forever.” Sylus muttered angrily as he lifted your hips up.

“I just need it to work now.”

“Becoming my mate made you such a brat.” he hissed as he lowered you down onto his cock. “There, you have your precious dick snug in that tight little pussy. If you want it bred though, you have to work for it.”

“But--”

“You expect your master to do all the work? That’s what you’re here for. Now get moving but don’t move your hands. Keep them wrapped around my horns.” he cupped your breasts and pinched and pulled at your nipples.

You began shaking your hips, pulling yourself up and down on his lap. His cock slid against your walls, sending bursts of ecstasy into your brain while he played with your breasts. He had sufficiently worked you up enough that you felt like you could come right then.

“You feel so good, wildfire.” he moaned into your neck. “This is exactly where I want you forever. Fucking yourself on my cock, trying to make me come. Cause that’s what you want, right? You want me to come. You want me to come inside you and breed this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes!” you clamped down on him tighter. “Yes Sylus! I want it! I need it!”

“I know you do.” he groaned, drawing in a sharp breath as you sped up. “You make me wanna come, wildfire. Just keep bouncing yourself on my dick.”

One of his hands trailed down your stomach and found your clit, adding to the sensations that were already overloading your body. “I won’t come until you do.” he said. “So if you want my cum you have to come for me, wildfire. Come on you master’s cock and he’ll give you what you want. What you need.”

“Ha…ha…ah fuck!” you forced your hips to move faster, chasing a release so close yet just out of reach. Your hands were cramping holding onto Sylus’s horns. The tighter you held them the heavier his breathing got.

“Sylus…” you whimpered. You were so close. “Sylus please!”

“Right here. I’m right here.” he craned your head back to kiss you. “You can do it. Just come for me.” he rubbed your clit faster, his other hand squeezed your breast.

“Sylus!” you moaned against his lips as you both came. He smothered the moan with another kiss, panting against your lips.

“So good. You are so fucking good, wildfire.” he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

Your arms fell to your sides as you relaxed against him. He rubbed at your shoulders, relieving the ache that had grown there. He moved you back so you were laying side by side on the bed again.

You took several deep breaths to center yourself, grounding yourself by nuzzling into Sylus’s chest. “Hey, not that this hasn’t been a lot of fun but how much longer is this rut going to last? I’m getting exhausted.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “You were the one that tackled me into bed this morning, not the other way around.” he reminded you. “I think you forget that your libido is just as bad, if not worse than mine can be.”

“Fine. I admit it. But really, do you think we’re any closer to knowing if I’m pregnant or not?” you stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my sweet little bird,” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “If you had let me speak this morning instead of dragging me back into bed I would have been able to tell you that you already are.”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant. I could smell the change this morning. That’s why I originally came in here. I was going to tell you after you had a chance to wake up a little more.” he was smiling the widest you had ever seen him.

“I’m really…” tears sprang to your eyes. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“Yes, we are.”

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck. It was happening! It was really happening!

Oh gods it was happening…you were…with a… You were going to give birth to a little dragon baby. Oh gods. This was actually happening! It wasn’t just a fun roleplay in bed. It was real. You had a little dragon growing in your womb.

“You look panicked. Are you alright?” Sylus asked. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am! I am ridiculously happy!” you assured him. “I’m also kinda terrified. In a few months we’re going to have a baby. We’re going to be parents and be in charge of another life. I mean, how do we even do that?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

With your pregnancy confirmed the rut wore off. You were thankful for the respite but now your mind was filled with nothing but preparations for the baby. You weren’t even showing yet and all you could do was make lists of things that needed done.

“Where is the baby going to sleep?” You asked Sylus one afternoon as you sat at the kitchen table, a list of things that needed done in front of you. At the top of the list was make a nursery.

“I suspect they’ll sleep in our room until they’re old enough to move them to their own room. There’s a lot of empty rooms in the mountain. We can fit a whole brood of hatchlings in here.” he kissed the top of your head and went about grabbing a bowl of stew from the large pot over the fire.

“A brood? Exactly how many kids do you want to pump into me?”

“I was thinking at least six or more.” he said with a shrug.

“Six!” you shouted.

“My ideal is nine since it’s a lucky number.” he took in your dumbstruck expression. “What?”

“You are insane if you think I’m going to birth nine kids.” you couldn’t even comprehend having a family that large. “I’ll give you three.”

“Seven.”

Was he haggling the number of kids you were going to have? Fine then. “Maybe four.”

“Five?”

“Four.”

“Alright, four.” he set another bowl of stew done for you. “Make sure to finish that. You’re eating for two now.”

“I know.” you set the list aside. “I need to go into town and do some shopping later, as well as tell my father and friends the news.”

“I’ll take you down whenever you’re ready. Are you nervous at all about telling them?”

“A little. It’s only recently that father came around to you and I’m not sure how he’s going to react. I hope he’ll be happy with the idea of being a grandfather at least.”

“You’re giving him his first grandchild, he’ll be thrilled no matter what.” Sylus assured you.

You grabbed some coins from the hoard room and left with Sylus for the village. Your first stop was to find your father and tell him the news. Sylus walked with you to the house but stayed in the background as you talked to your father. Your father was shocked at first but was soon smiling and congratulating you and Sylus both on your upcoming bundle of joy.

“I’ll have to get started working then.” he said, “I’m going to make a mobile for you to hang over the crib.”

“That sounds wonderful, father. Thank you.” you hugged him again. “I actually came into town to commission the woodworker for the cradle as well as buy some fabric and yarn to make baby clothes. I also need to find Tara and tell her. I know she’s going to be thrilled too.”

“That she will be. Congratulations, sweet pea. I can’t wait to meet them when they’re born.” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and you were on your way.

You left to run your other errands. Sylus was still by your side, looming in the corner wherever you went like a shadow. The village had really come to like him but he was still rather uncomfortable with the attention. He looked like he was going to fly away when you told Tara the news about your pregnancy and had given Sylus a huge hug in her excitement. She had promised to do a reading for your pregnancy as soon as possible and tell her mother so she could make you a perfect baby blanket for the little one.

Your last stop after the fabric shop was the woodworker to commission the cradle. There were some other people there that saw you come in with Sylus and froze. The woodworker looked up though and smiled. “Ah, what can I do for you today?”

“Hello, I came with a very special request. Mind you, I won’t need it for a couple months so take your time but what I really need is a cradle.”

“A cradle?” the woodworker smiled. “Oh my dear girl, you’re having a baby?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Another mighty dragon in the village. What wonderful news.” the woodworker called to Sylus, “How big of a baby do we need to plan for?”

“A regular sized cradle should be fine.” Sylus said. “They shouldn’t be much different from a human baby.”

Sylus looked to his side where a man that had been waiting in the shop was staring at him. You didn’t recognize him immediately but it was a decent sized village, you didn’t have every face memorized. Sylus didn’t seem to appreciate the man’s staring and glared at him. “Do you have something to say to me?”

The man shook his head and took off. While most people in the village were used to Sylus there were some who still didn’t entirely trust him. It was an inevitability but hopefully in the years to come everyone would come to recognize him not as a threat but as a neighbor.

Once everything was done and finished you stopped by to say a final goodbye to your father and returned to the mountain.

You set what you had bought down and started getting preparations ready for dinner. While you were cooking you kept hearing Sylus walking back and forth past the kitchen. What was he doing now? While dinner simmered over the fire you went out to find him.

It was then that you noticed there was a carpet under your feet. That definitely hadn’t been there before. Where had it come from? And there were more carpets! They made a trail down the corridor and into your bedroom. Sylus was in there unrolling another carpet and layering it with the others.

“What are you doing? Where’d all the carpet come from?”

“Ah, yes,” he stood up, “I got to thinking that when the baby is born it’d be best if they had something soft to crawl around on so I’ve been finding whatever rugs I could from the hoard room and laid them out. I may also need to go around the walls and smooth them out so if they run into them they don’t get cut.”

It was endearing watching him worry and fret about how to make the mountain safer for your baby. You hadn’t even been pregnant a month and he was already doing so much. You walked up to him, your feet squishing against the plush carpet, and hugged him. “I’m so glad that our baby is going to have you as a father. I really am.”

His arms closed around you. “I’m the lucky one, really. To have a child with you. Knowing that this child is going to have you as their mother.” he knelt down, his face inches from your stomach. “Your mother is so good, little one. And I am going to love and protect you both for the rest of my life. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen to you so long as I draw breath.”

He kissed your stomach. You ran your hands through his hair, holding him there as he rested his head against you. “I can’t wait to meet our little one too.”

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads mc #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #dragon sylus #lads dragon au

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salty-autistic-writer · 5 hours ago

Text

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap

Tommy and sleep have always had a difficult relationship.

When he was a child, he had a hard time relaxing his mind enough to fall asleep. Restless thoughts and the fact that he could also read one more page of this non-fiction book - just one more - kept him tossing and turning until his eyes burned.

As a teenager, he listened to his parents arguing, their shadows dancing in the hallway. When he drank too much, his father’s voice was like the hot sour breath of a dragon, his footsteps booming and his words sharp.

The neighbours never intervened. They were blind and deaf. Tommy wasn’t. He listened and tried to stay awake as long as possible. At least until the dragon fell asleep. Just in case he had to help his mother. Because there was nobody else.

His time in the military taught him to cherish every possible second of sleep. He developed the talent to fall asleep anywhere, at any time and at remarkable speed. But with this special talent comes the tendency to wake up abruptly as soon as his mind decides it has to be alert.

A noise, even a smell, is enough to push his body out of sleep mode into ready-to-fight mode. That makes sleeping for several hours in a row very difficult. So he usually takes some exhaustion with him when he leaves for work in the morning.

Once he’s working, he has laser focus though, never feeling the missing hours of sleep. No. That only comes later, after the work is done.

His issues made Tommy a napper. And he’s napping a lot.

He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

In the helicopter (2/10 - not enough space, leads to pain and embarrassing moment!)

Tommy yawns heartily. He’s working a shift from hell. And he’s tired. So tired that the thought of getting out of the helicopter and dragging himself to the bunk beds at the station fills him with dread. He doesn’t like the beds anyway. It’s never really quiet there. And they are too small. Well. To be fair, most places are too small for him to stretch out his legs.

Finding a comfortable position in the helicopter isn’t easy either. But he has to try. Has to close his eyes. Just … For a few minutes. Then, the alarm is probably going to go off again anyway. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He can already feel his mind drifting away, and his muscles are finally relaxing. At least, it’s quiet in here.

Is this smart? No. But he’s too tired to make smart choices.

Tommy already knows his neck is going to ache later. But it’s too late.

Sleep embraces him.

L aughter erupts when Tommy opens his eyes and he blinks into the sunlight, confused until his swimming vision clears and he sees Lucy in front of him. Lucy, surrounded by a few other colleagues, taking pictures with her phone and grinning in utter delight. Great. He won't ever hear the end of this.

Gr imacing, he stretches as best as he can, sore muscles burning and bones cracking in protest.

When he jumps out, his legs tingling from being immobile for so long, Lucy shows him a picture of his face pressed against the glass, drool running down to his chin, hair dishevelled. “It’s cute,” she says. “But I’m worrying about your poor old bones, Kinard. If you plan on doing more naps in the chopper, I will buy you a neck pillow.”

At a movie theatre (6/10 - comfy but embarrassing, at least Evan thought it was cute!)

Tommy loves the cinema Evan picked.

He especially loves the seats. They are so comfy. Soft. Warm. Too soft and warm. Tommy can feel himself sinking into them, his eyes getting heavy. He tries his best to keep them open, telling himself he’s not going to fall asleep while he’s about to watch a movie with his gorgeous boyfriend who’s happily snacking popcorn, his shoulder nudging Tommy’s.

For once, they actually managed to go to the movies. Without any interruption. Without anything terrible happening. So he really should pay attention to the movie. Evan is going to want to talk about it later.

But the screen is too bright. He has to rest his eyes. Just for one little moment. He’s not going to fall asleep. He’s not.

It only takes seconds for him to drift off.

A hand on his shoulder. A kiss on the cheek. Soft laughter and warm breath tickling his skin. “Tommy. Hey, Tommy?”

Tommy hums, keeping his eyes closed. Just a little longer. He can tell it’s not even morning yet. It’s still dark outside. Huh. He wrinkles his nose in confusion. Where’s all the noise coming from? Did Evan turn on the TV?

Oh. Oh. Shit.

His eyes snap open and he winces, his hands rubbing over the slightly rough fabric of cushions, the smell of popcorn and sweet beverages reminding him of where he is right now. He fell asleep at the movie theatre. With Evan sitting beside him.

Tommy can feel his cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, wiping drool from his mouth and glancing at the screen, where a man and a woman are arguing.

“Don’t be. It was really cute. My highlight was when your head started to tilt and sank on my shoulder,” Evan says, smiling. “You also didn’t miss anything. That movie was horrible so far. I’m going to tell you what happened later.”

Tommy’s face still burns with embarrassment, but when Evan wraps his arm around him and pulls him even closer, he starts to feel better. It happens, he guesses. Especially after a long day.

In a dressing room (3/10 - not very comfy, loud, but leads to a good solution for future shopping! It's good to have someone who thinks of things you never really thought of!)

Tommy doesn’t like shopping for clothes.

It’s not easy to find something that fits him. He also wishes people would just let him look around by himself before bombarding him with a row of questions, constantly asking if he’s doing alright. Why isn’t one “yes thank you” enough?

Once he does find something that fits and doesn’t scratch or feel too tight, he usually just tries to wear it as long as possible. But his favourite jeans tore and now he has to find a new one.

It’s nice to have Evan with him who gives him something to focus on.

“Hm. No. Let me get you that in another size,” Evan decides, looking at the pants Tommy tried on, frowning. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters, too exhausted to really care. He sits on the bench in the dressing room and leans back with a sigh. As he waits, the warmth of the dressing room makes him increasingly drowsy. His eyes get heavy. Soon, he can’t keep them open anymore, his head falling forward as he succumbs to a slumber.

Only to jump when Evan opens the door and presents him with a new pair of jeans. “Sorry, took a while to find it. Here, I - Oh. Did you fall asleep?” “No,” Tommy says automatically. Evan raises a doubting brow.

Tommy notices he’s half lying on the bench now, quickly sitting up and wiping at his eyes. “Maybe,” he admits. “I’m tired.”

Tired of dressing and undressing. Tired of the too-bright shop lights which keep buzzing above his head. Tired of hearing the terrible nerve-wracking music in the background. Tired of seeing his tired eyes in the mirror.

Evan scans him, understanding in his eyes. “Hey, let’s just order some of those online, okay? You can try them on at home,” he suggests.

“Really?” Tommy asks, wrinkling his nose. “But what if they don’t fit?”

“We are just going to send them back,” Evan shrugs. “Come on, let’s leave and buy coffee somewhere.”

I love you , Tommy thinks, getting up happily. And wonders how far away he is from actually saying the words out loud. Feels like they are already lingering on his lips, just waiting for the right moment.

At a bookstore (7/10 - comfy, warm and with cat, but embarrassing!)

Of course, they happen to be outside on one of those rare days when it’s raining cats and dogs. All of a sudden, it pours from the velvety sky.

They flee into a bookstore at a corner, laughing. Evan’s eyes brighten up in delight as he scans the shelves. It’s a tiny store with old hardcover books and narrow hallways. The dust-covered books are piling up everywhere, even on the window sill.

An elderly lady is the only other person in the store. She’s sitting at the counter, hidden by a heap of books. She has one in her wrinkled hands, reading, only briefly glancing up to nod at them and push her glasses up her nose.

There even is a cat. A tabby with a bushy tail, that raises as she approaches Tommy and curls around his leg with a soft meow. When Tommy pets her and looks up, Evan is already gone, looking at books. Tommy discovers a green armchair in a corner and decides to sit down for a while. The armchair is comfy and smells like oranges. Tommy sinks into the cushions, leaning his head back with a content sigh. He can hear the steady drum of the rain against the window panes. It’s making him dozy. Before he can fight the sleepiness, his eyes are already closed and distantly he thinks he can feel something soft, warm and vibrating on his legs, but then sleep reaches for him and pulls him into a quite pleasant nap.

“Tommy?”

“Hm?” Tommy perks up, blinking in confusion. “Is it time?”

“I don’t know. You fell asleep,” Evan says, amused. “And the cat immediately went to sleep on you. I took pictures.”

Tommy swallows, looking at the cat now sitting on the floor, licking its paw. “Sorry,” he says quietly, glancing at the shop owner. But she’s smiling while still reading her book.

“No need to be sorry. It’s cute. Come on, let’s go home and take a nap together,” Evan chuckles.

In the bathtub (8/10 - warm, safe, clean and good-smelling, especially when Evan washes my hair, but it gets cold eventually!)

Tommy doesn’t know how he’s still standing. The shift seemed to last forever. His whole body is sore and aching. All he’s smelling is sweat and smoke. Every step he takes seems to add invisible extra weight he has to carry around.

“Come on, I’m going to draw you a bath,” Evan tells him.

“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” Tommy sighs, as he slowly, painstakingly peels his clothes off his body.

He hates the moment his naked body is hit by the chill of the air. Hates the first dip into the water. But once he sinks into the water and it embraces him, he groans in pleasure.

“I’m going to wash your hair, okay?” Evan says, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and pushing the sleeves of his hoodie back. “Please,” Tommy sighs, gratefully. He could feel how greasy it got with every passing hour. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing into the rhythmic movements of Evan’s fingers in his hair. Soon, he feels his mind drifting away, like a boat on the ocean. He allows it. He’s warm and safe. He can rest. Every troublesome thought and every ache disappears. Fading away as he dozes off to Evan washing his hair and the smell of his favourite shampoo.

“Tommy?” Evan asks, shaking Tommy’s shoulder gently. “You with me?”

“Huh?” Tommy opens his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. He’s still halfway caught in the pleasantly floaty nothingness of his nap. “Hm. What?”

“Sorry, but I thought you might want to eat something,” Evan says. That’s when Tommy realises he’s lying in the bathtub, feeling boneless and … chilly. “How long have I been in here?”

“Long enough. Did you sleep well?” Evan asks, grinning.

Tommy grimaces as a shiver runs down his back and inspects his wrinkled hands. “Well, now I’m cold. But it was worth it.”

On Evan’s lap (10/10 - warm, comfy, safe. the best place to take a nap!)

It’s been a long day. It’s always a long day.

Evan takes one look at Tommy and says, “Want to order Chinese and relax on the couch today?”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Tommy says, grateful. There was a time when he tried to hide his exhaustion and went out anyway to please his partners. But now he’s honest about how he feels and what he wants. He also doesn’t apologise for falling asleep anymore. His work is stressful and functioning can be exhausting. Being tired is nothing he has to be ashamed of.

They end up on the couch, Evan with his laptop and Tommy with his head on Evan’s lap, the rest of his body stretched out. He’s happy he can do that now. They bought a new, bigger and comfier couch a while ago.

Tommy has his eyes closed and relaxes while listening to the clicking noise of Evan typing and breathing in the familiar smell of his surroundings. Warm. Soft. Yes. This is by far his favourite place to take a nap.

He allows himself to drift off. When he comes back to himself, Evan smiles down at him. “Hey. There you are. Sounded like you were snoring the alphabet at one point.”

“Hey,” Tommy scrunches his nose. “Says the man who snores like a boar whenever he’s lying on his back.”

Evan chuckles. He clears his throat, eyes on his screen. “Did you know that neurodivergent people tend to get exhausted pretty fast? Due to the stress of sensory overload and the pressure of social situations. There’s even a word for it.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, raising a mildly intrigued brow.

“Yes. Autistic fatigue.”

“Hm.” Tommy shifts, frowning.

They’ve been talking about this topic for a while now. Collecting information. Finding certain things that … fit astonishingly well. It started with Evan talking to his therapist about ADHD and led to Evan going on an extensive research spree on which he found out that quite a few of the things Tommy is experiencing fit symptoms of the autism spectrum and that ADHD and autism have a lot of overlapping symptoms. Tommy grew up during a time when children weren’t autistic, had ADHD or suffered from dyslexia. There were only two possible labels: “normal” and “weird”. At school, Tommy got the “weird” label pretty fast.

Actually, there’s been a teacher who apparently did some research and carefully addressed the possibility of autism, but Tommy’s father was fast to tell her to refrain from calling his son mentally ill. Tommy thinks the exact words Kinard Senior used were “My boy is not a nutcase.” And that was the end of it.

But now, now that he has the freedom to do research and the chance to figure some things out that have always confused him, Tommy is intrigued.

It might be nice to know why some things are as they are.

For example: why does he hear noises no one else seems to hear? Why does he feel repulsion towards certain foods to the point that he has the urge to gag or spit them out? Why is he fidgeting so much without really noticing it? Why does he take things literally, which has led to many embarrassing moments in his life? Why does he sometimes feel like he’s following an invisible script while talking to people, and when they don’t do what he expects, the conversations become increasingly stressful?

Or the “I’m so exhausted” thing that sometimes really hits him out of nowhere, especially when he’s outside.

“Do they also say how you can increase your energy if you experience autistic fatigue?” Tommy asks.

Evan hums. “Snacks. Vitamins. And accomodations. Like noise-cancelling in-ear headphones.”

Tommy perks up. “Noise-cancelling? That’s a thing?” He asks, surprised. He has normal headphones for his training. But they don’t cancel noise.

“Uh, yeah. They have been existing for a while now. Do you want me to order some for you?” Evan asks. “Or we can pick them together?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, fully awake now, sitting up and snuggling up against Evan, looking at the screen. “But I can’t promise I will ever take them out once I have them.”

“Well, you definitely won’t hear me snoring anymore,” Evan says, grinning and typing into the search bar.

(AO3 Link)

#bucktommy #tevan #evan buckley #tommy kinard #autistic tommy kinard #bucktommy fanfic #tevan fanfic

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honey-minded-hivemind · 1 day ago

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How are the gargoyles reacting when they first find out about Dragon and that they are lost clan? And how do they feel about Brooklyn being buddies with them?

How does Brooklyn feel when he finds out about Dragon being his...sibling, I guess? Cause he likes them sure, but he's not dumb. He knows there is a wall there. They like him and enjoy his company, but they hide a lot from him and for good reason. Do the reasons no longer matter now that they are family in his eyes, or is he still conflicted on what is going to happen to the kind human who rescued him out of the water, simply because it was the right thing to do?

Goliath, watching Reader and Brooklyn hang out from far away: I don't trust them.

Goliath, seeing Reader glare at someone: Omg, that's my child. I didn't trust my child. What is wrong with me?

Okay, good questions!

One, when they find out Reader (Dragon) is lost clan, they're now trying to get them to join but aren't taking no for an answer. They feel they should have realized sooner.

They react to Brooklyn amd Reader being buddies with suspicion, as it seems odd a human would save one of their's... But then again, this human also goes out of their way to spend time with Brooklyn, and don't bother asking him questions about the clan, if anything, theu avoid those questions... They'd much rather ask his favorite color, or how high he can climb, or if he wants to see a few statues in the park... So they begrudgingly will have them watch out for them... Except seeing such a small human, a young one too, on their own... It doesn't sit right with them... Were they abandoned? Or cast out? Is anyone looking out for them? Hmmmm... They'll need to keep a closer eye on them then... Perhaps Elisa or Matt or Xanatos or Fox can talk with them, find out what's going on...

Brooklyn finds it a bit spooky, or world-shaking, that Dragon, his odd friend, is also one of his lost hatchmates from a thousand years ago, the one that was murdered... On the one hand, that's spooky and scary and feels too close to the Magus and magic for comfort... On the other hand, they're someone he used to know and love, so that means they aren't lost forever, he can see them again, they're back! ... But on the third hand, what about, well, Dragon? They're their own person or gargoyle or whatever they are now, and he loves them too. He doesn't want them to stop being Dragon, but he also wonders if they'd remember him or their other brothers or Goliath and Hudson amd Demona... He feels it's like with Elisa amd Xanatos and Fox and Matt, right? Sure, they're human NOW, but they used to be gargoyles, they just have those memories buried... So nothing has to be given up or sacrificed to have both, right? All in all, he feels very confused and worries if there's any right choice for this matter...

Of course he knows he and Dragon aren't completely honest with each other. They avoid talking about where they live or their families or what goes on when they aren't seeing each other and playing around or trying to find new places to hang out and look for stuff. He knows they fear the others, and that there's a slight fear of him... but he feels the same towards them. So it's fair, right? It isn't healthy exactly to worry so much about what could hurt them or come after the both of them... but they tend to push that aside and try to do something fun. Climbing brick walls or old statues, see who can find a hidden item the fastest, challenge each other to hide and seek, and every now and again go fishing... So no, maybe they're not completely honest... but for what it's worth, he likes them, and they like him. They're both trying, and that's all they can do. He appreciates they don't talk about him to other humans much... but he can't help but tell Goliath and the others about them. He worries about them, especially since while sure, it's fun to have someone who isn't afraid to wrestle or jump from heights or climb things, that isn't normal human behavior, is it? And where do they go when he leaves? Are they safe? Are they warm? Are they eating? So he found it best to voice those concerns to the others... He just hopes it doesn't come back to bite him...

Goliath and the others grow just a bit fonder each time they hear a new escapade that Brooklyn and his odd human friend went on, and start to grow worried themselves. Perhaps they need to finally step in... Make themselves known... Or at least offer shelter if they're in need of it...

What they don't expect is to smell the scent of clan on them, or how their glare and their laugh sound like Goliath's... or how small they are, compared to the world around them...

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere gargoyles #yandere platonic gargoyles #platonic yandere brooklyn #platonic yandere goliath #🌔dark gargoyles au #🌔mark of the wyvern au

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headachecat · 12 hours ago

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Would love to see your Rook dealing with any jealousy/insecurity about Neve and Lucanis flirting if you believe it would exist. This is my obsession. My MW Rook looks up to Neve almost as much as Bellera does and had been flirting with Lucanis and then realises they are flirting and is like. Well I've got no chance. But is also devastated.

I keep playing in my head my Rook withdrawing and giving them space to be respectful and Lucanis being entirely oblivious and confused and ways it is resolved

There was a way about Neve that made your heart flutter in your chest. For some, it was the insecurity she brought to light with her talk, as if she knew all the secrets your mind was hiding before you were even aware of them yourself. For others, it was the blush she evoked on their cheeks with a confident flirt, fully aware of all her traits and the effect they could have if used properly. But for Rook? Well, for Rook, it was the intrigue of her smart talk, her mind, and all the things she held so much knowledge about.

In the midst of the chaos that spurned around them ever since the collapse of the ritual, there were stolen moments of respite where they exchanged their favourite pieces of information — random facts, obscure history, fragments of thought that felt too precious to waste. Rook found herself captivated, caught between wanting to learn more and marvelling at Neve’s sharp wit and how it made everything feel significant. She could make a passing comment about an old text, an anecdote about an ancient discovery, or even a sharp critique of a flawed argument, and Rook would be left reeling, turning the words over in her mind long after. She could have picked Neve’s brain apart for hours. But there was always something eluding her, something hidden, untouched, unshared – a mystery that lingered just out of reach. Something Rook just couldn’t uncover. Maker knows they flirted here and there, but it all soon faded away with the arrival of newer additions to the party. The camaraderie shifted, new bonds formed, and those playful exchanges became fewer, buried beneath the weight of their shared mission. It wasn’t the first time Rook found herself pushing romance away for the greater cause, and it would probably not be the last. There was always a battle to fight, a crisis to resolve, and a part of her had come to accept that her own desires would always take a backseat to the larger picture. There would be an appropriate time for the right connection, she told herself – maybe after the Gods were dead, when the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of destruction. Such is life, and she never gave it a second thought. Until Lucanis.

It was the small things. The tiny acts of service that Rook held so close and so dear to her heart. The thoughtful notice of her favourite drink, set aside just for her. The breakfast left by her seat at the kitchen table on mornings when she barely had the energy to rise. An extended hand to help her cross a fallen bridge, steady and unwavering. He was always there, always steady and caring, with a quiet kind of affection that spoke louder than words ever could.

So, she cared in return. She cared deeply and truly, as she found herself looking for him whenever time allowed, just to see the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that softened her world. She lingered near while he cooked, not just to watch, but to lend a hand where she could and to help him clean as he worked his way through his recipes. She made sure to give back the love he so willingly poured into others, crafting small moments of her own to show him he mattered. A new edition of his favourite novel hidden under his pillow, for when he couldn’t sleep. A story told just to make him laugh, as he covered his face in amusement. And when she caught the faint glimmer in his eye – a quiet sense of ease, a glimpse of comfort that told her he felt at home with her—her heart swelled.

One afternoon, she felt herself falling for him, as she came by the pantry to collect his empty cups. He greeted her with a soft smile, the kind that warmed her more than she cared to admit, and thanked her for her help as they carried the dishes to the sink. Without a word, as if guided by instinct, Lucanis reached for a piece of bread and a jar of honey from the shelf. His hands moved deftly, spreading the honey and slicing a few pieces of fruit, placing them neatly atop the bread. It wasn’t elaborate, but it was thoughtful.

‘Here,’ he said, offering the plate to her with a gentle tilt of his head. ‘You’ve kept busy today. You should eat something.’

‘I wish I could take you home after all this,’ she joked, resting her hip against the counter with a teasing grin, as she tasted the fruit. ‘Would you consider becoming my personal chef? Although, it would pay less than your current occupation, I suppose.’

Lucanis chuckled faintly, drying his hands on a rag, but his next words came quieter, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. ‘Letting me take care of you would be enough of a payment.’

The air shifted between them as he looked up, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than usual. His eyes scanned her face, searching – perhaps for her reaction, perhaps for reassurance, or maybe even rejection. His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say more, but uncertainty lingered in the silence, holding his next words at bay. For now. That was enough for Rook. She smiled widely, tilting her head with a lighthearted wonderment that softened the tension. There was no need to push, no need to rush. She would wait until the words became clear for him, however long it took. And in the long run, it was the words exchanged between Neve and Lucanis that Rook started to notice first. The soft tease hidden beneath the guise of casual conversation. The laughter that lilted through the air, over-the-shoulder banter exchanged as the two playfully flirted with each other during their travels. It was effortless, natural, and it tickled in a way Rook couldn’t quite name. It was something she and Lucanis had never shared. Something, perhaps, she was waiting for.

She didn’t worry much; it wasn’t like her. It was more of a quiet, bittersweet acceptance she felt deep within her chest, because how could she fault him? She had fallen under Neve’s spell too, after all. So how could he not?

But the feeling lingered deep inside her. She longed to see him, to talk, to touch. No one had made her feel the quiet yearning, the timeless depth of affection that grew stronger with each shared moment. Rook had always loved deeply, with a steady and enduring strength, and now was no different. There was little to do but make it clear.

The party stepped through the Eluvian, the echoes of their shoes radiating around them in a cacophony of dull, resounding thuds. ‘Where. Are. Lucanis and Darin. When we. Fight. Antaam,’ Rook groaned, dragging herself to the nearest stone column and collapsing against it, her staff clattering to the floor beside her. She could feel every single bone in her body protesting, her muscles aching with exhaustion as though they might simply refuse to carry her any further.

Neve, still catching her breath, let out a soft, relieved laugh. ‘They’re probably at each other’s throats somewhere. Care for me to find them?’ she offered, brushing back a loose strand of hair from her damp forehead. Bellara, looking no less worse than her companions, heaved a sigh as she trudged to the Lighthouse entrance door and pushed it open, leaning heavily against the frame for support. ‘The only relationship I’m interested in tightening right now is the one between my head and the pillow’ she muttered. Rook winced as she straightened herself with great effort, her legs groaning under the weight of her own body. ‘I got it,’ she said, brushing herself off. ‘They are probably in the kitchen. Need to find myself a bite to eat regardless. And some bandages.’ Neve followed closely behind, her tone carrying that unmistakable smirk. ‘And some Lucanis.’

Rook paused, glancing up at her with a weary chuckle. Of course, Neve knew. She always did. There was no use in hiding anything from her – not that Rook ever had much success in trying. ‘If I’m the lucky one, huh?’ she shot back, raising an eyebrow playfully. Neve shrugged, her lips quirking into a knowing smile as she looked down at Rook, her tone light and teasing. ‘Luck is what you make it, Rook!’ she said with a wink before turning and ascending the stairs.

But the mirror claimed the opposite. Rook caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the reflection in the hallway on her way to the courtyard exit. Her hair was tangled and streaked with blood, her face bruised, and her armor scuffed and torn in places, crying out for repair. She made a mental note to drop it off with Harding before heading out again. Maker, she looked disgusting, and definitely most unlucky. The kind of worn-down, battered appearance that would make anyone else wince. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care – not after the day she’d had.

Her feet carried her further through the courtyard, her boots crunching against the gravel. The kitchen loomed ahead, a safe haven she desperately needed. She placed her hand gently against the cool steel door, ready to push it open, but paused, her ears catching the sound of voices drifting from within. She couldn’t make out the words at first, only the soft, muffled rhythm of conversation. The tone was light, familiar. It wasn’t loud enough to be an argument, nor strained enough to be serious. Something about it made her pause, her hand still resting on the door, as if some part of her wasn’t quite yet ready to step inside.

‘Lamp oil. Everything stank of burnt tentacles for miles after.’ Davrin’s voice sounded relaxed. Amused, even? That alone peaked Rook’s curiosity. She stepped into the kitchen, her shoes making a soft scuff against the worn wooden floor as her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside.

‘Rook!’ The Warden turned towards the entrance, a bottle of wine swaying precariously in his grasp. Lucanis sat beside him, lounging comfortably, a cup nestled in his hands as though it had always belonged there. His usual cautious demeanour seemed to soften under the warm haze of the drink. Rook approached them slowly, her hands settling on her hips with a hint of playful reproach. She couldn’t stop the side smile creeping onto her lips. ‘If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me first.’

Lucanis looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. She could feel a comfortable warmth spilling over her heart, a gentle pull in her chest as she studied his big, brown, yet currently murky eyes. They were soft, unfocused in a way that made her smile, and for a heartbeat, it felt like she was the only one in the room.

‘It’s not a good bottle,’ Davrin’s jest broke the moment, drawing Lucanis’ attention away. The Crow blinked slowly, clearly unfazed, and gestured towards the pantry. ‘Might have to pick up a supply. I have a feeling we’ll need it.’ Rook nodded, the smile lingering on her lips as she turned on her heel, her feet dragging just slightly as she made her way to the shelves. She reached for the first bottle of wine her fingers brushed against, not even bothering to check the label. ‘Is anyone else hungry? Maybe I should cook something?’ Lucanis’ remark made her chuckle under hear breath. Even under the influence, he couldn’t help himself.

Davrin cleared his throat, shifting in his chair and getting comfortable once more. His gaze darted toward her, completely ignoring the question hanging in the air. ‘What about you, Rook? What’s the worst job you’ve ever been on?’

‘You’re familiar with how this whole thing came about, right?’ Rook’s voice was steady as she moved about the kitchen, the sounds of utensils and the clink of ceramic hurting her ears. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her companions were both listening, then turned back to continue her search. It took a minute before she began preparing a plate. ‘Well, after today’s Antaam encounter, I’m not sure that was my worst one anymore,’ she continued, a touch of weariness creeping into her tone. It was a quiet admission, though her hands worked efficiently in preparation. It took a moment longer to finish, but she eventually gathered the plate and made her way back to the corner of the room.

‘Sometimes it’s good to put things into perspective,’ Lucanis spoke up, his voice soft but thoughtful as he swirled the cup in his hands, watching the wine spin and settle within. ‘Especially if it’s funny,’ Davrin added with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment. He began shifting things around on the table to make space for Rook’s plate. Rook couldn’t help but humour them, her lips curling into a small smile as she set the plate down in front of them. She chuckled along, though her voice held a playful edge. ‘So. My suffering entertains you. Got it.’

‘You joining us, then?’ Davrin’s gaze followed her movement with a sudden interest, his eyes flicking over her as if weighing the possibility. His thumb rested against his lips, caressing it in a barely noticeable way. Rook winked at him teasingly in response.

‘Fine, I’ll cook something if Rook’s staying,’ Lucanis declared suddenly, getting up with surprising speed. He moved forward, standing face to face with Rook, his eyes widening as she extended a smaller plate towards him. He looked down, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to focus. ‘It’s some cheese and olives. And bread, with olive oil. I heard that’s how you eat it in Treviso,’ she said, her voice quiet and tender. She smiled gently, the warmth in her offer softening further as she added, ‘You mentioned you were hungry.’

Lucanis met her eyes, as he reached out to take the plate from her hands. His touch was gentle, and Rook couldn’t help but notice the quiet, polite gratitude in his movements. Her heart began to beat faster. She kept up the eye contact, just to relish the feeling. Maker, he was simply everything.

Lucanis nodded with a whisper, ‘Please, do.’

‘Rook’s story first. Then Lucanis owes me one about this contract on a bronto,’ Davrin said, shifting in his seat, his tone playful, but insistent, drawing their attention back to him once more. Rook raised an eyebrow, and threw him the bottle of wine with a practiced toss. ‘Mierda, that bronto,’ Lucanis muttered as he sat down, dipping a piece of bread into the olive oil with great care.

The hours passed quickly, as they so often do with drink as company, each sip loosening their tongues and sharpening their tease.The room felt warmer, more comfortable, as the trio moved about, shifting seats and sharing stories. Davrin took a chance to demonstrate the time he had to lift a log by attempting to pick up both Lucanis and Rook at the same time. He breathed out exaggerated grunting noises as he did so, struggling with effort, and the room filled with laughter, carrying their chatter out the window and drawing in curious wisps. When he finally set them back down, the world felt a bit more chaotic, and it was unclear who sat where in the jumble of limbs and shouts. In the end, Rook found herself sharing the two-seater with Lucanis, their proximity natural and expectant, as though they’d fallen into this arrangement a hundred times before.

She could feel Lucanis’ presence closer, the subtle warmth of it pressing against her as she settled into the comfort of the company. The sweetness of the wine clouded her senses, soothing the edges of her fatigue, and she needed it – the reprieve, the breathe it allowed her to take. Somewhere along the line, she’d taken off her covering, unbuckling the straps of her belt and letting the weight of it slide off her shoulders. The casual robes she wore now felt infinitely more comfortable, a sign of surrender to the simple pleasures of the evening. Lucanis observed her in silence, his eyes flickering over the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, as if they were the most intriguing thing in the world. Resting her tired feet up on the table, she let her body sink into the chair, eyes closing for a moment as she sighed deeply, a soft longing for peace washing over her. Without thinking, she shifted slightly, her head finding its place against Lucanis’ shoulder.

Davrin stretched lazily, lifting his legs to rest them on the table as well. He carefully moved Rook’s feet aside, settling them gently on his lap so as not to disturb her. The gesture was effortless, natural, and somehow just another part of the delicate balance of their shared space, like the room itself had drawn them closer into this small, peaceful circle.

Rook’s gaze almost unconsciously traced Davrin’s chest, up to his neck, and finally to his lips. It was a brief moment, but her thoughts didn’t linger there for long. They drifted instead to Lucanis, to the buttons of his vest, the way the fabric sat perfectly tailored against waist, and how the collar teased the line of his neck. And then, perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the effortless charisma that always seemed to radiate from Davrin. Perhaps it was the sensation of Lucanis’ hand resting just a little too close to her own, his fingers brushing against her knuckles softly, as though the touch became an extension of the comfort he offered. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the silence itself – the way it stretched between the three of them for just a moment too long, breaking the shackles of Rook’s heart and loosening her tongue. ‘Davrin, what does flirting mean to you?’ she asked. Lucanis lifted his head suddenly, and Rook could feel his gaze tracing the curve of her features. She pulled a strand of hair from her cheek, giving herself a moment of focus as she tried to steady her pulse, which was now racing beneath her skin.

‘How come?’ Davrin rested his head against his hand, clearly entertained by the turn in the conversation. Rook smiled, her heart skipping a beat, feeling Lucanis’ hand twitch slightly against her own, as though her words had sparked something in him, too. ‘Well,’ she started, ‘you flirt with me, and others, ceaselessly. And since we’ve had our… talk about where we stand, you’ve got me intrigued.’ The words hung between them, half teasing, half serious, as her gaze met Davrin’s. The Warden chuckled with a low sound. He patted her shin affectionately before leaning forward, his eyes gleaming.

’I suppose there’s an element of fun that comes with it. It eases the tension. It brings people closer, instantly.’ He paused, his voice dropping slightly as if sharing something more intimate. ‘But there’s also a certain amount of freedom to it. No promises are made, and yet it brings a promise of something more, if both parties wish it. A bond is made, even if it’s just through, or for, the thrill of the chase.’

‘Something more…’ Rook repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. She turned the cup in her hand absentmindedly, before taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the wine trickle through her as she thought about his words.

Davrin’s eyebrow lifted for a brief moment, his gaze shifting as he observed Rook’s position with a quiet, knowing smile. He took in the loose strands of hair cascading over Lucanis’ shoulder, the way her fingers were subtly tensing under the Crow’s instinctive touch, and the way her head had leaned slightly to the side. The scene was unfolding in a way that was hard to ignore.

With a slight shift, Davrin’s hand fell to Rook’s leg with a quiet slap, the motion deliberate but light, as though making a point. ‘I’m not the only one here with a talent,’ he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes sparkled with a teasing glint. ‘The Crow over there has some interested parties swooning over his tactics.’

Rook corrected herself, sitting up straighter to face Lucanis, who’s eyes widened slightly at the mention. ‘That’s a good way of putting it. Tactics,’ Lucanis said, his voice tinted with hesitation. The Crow let out a short laugh, his hand running up the back of his neck as though trying to smooth over the unease that had settled in.

Rook turned toward him, bending one leg beneath her thigh to face him more directly. There was a small, quiet hesitation before she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, offering him a soft gesture of reassurance. Lucanis closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in her touch, as if savouring the connection. ‘I’m not very… practiced,’ he confessed. ‘All I know about flirting is what the Crows taught me. And perhaps a few serials.’

Rook exchanged quick glances with Davrin, who looked just as intrigued. She leaned in closer, her voice teasing but filled with curiosity as she spoke, ‘Yeah, I’m going to need some details on that.’ The Crow looked up at her, his expression still a bit embarrassed, but also a little resigned to the conversation now.

Davrin took the opportunity to pick up the wine bottle with an exaggerated flourish, and took a few slow sips, his eyes never leaving Lucanis. ‘Flirting is an effective way to gain information. To blend in. To gain someone’s trust. Everything a Crow needs on a job. Naturally, the art of romance is one of the chapters taught to us. I’m no exception.’ Lucanis muttered, drinking from his cup, trying to deflect. Rook shook her head, tilting it in a drunken haze. ‘So it means nothing to you?’

‘I know the talk. I am rather inexperienced in the play itself,’ Lucanis looked at her, as he put his cup down on the table. ‘It’s complicated. There are moments when I catch myself in the act, as if it was an instinct. Years of training will do that to you. My mouth speaks before my mind thinks and I often find myself surprised by my own actions.’

A beat. ‘But the real thing… A real display of one’s affection…’ He held Rook’s gaze. ‘I believe I’m still figuring it out.’

Davrin slapped his thighs, before getting up with vigour, ‘Right. So the Crow flirts by accident is what I’m hearing.’

Rook blinked, her eyes searching Lucanis’ for a moment. There was a level of peace in his expression, usually overshadowed by the daily struggles they went through. A steady calm in-between the passing storms, unbothered and certain, like never before. Rook could hear Davrin’s footsteps against the stone floor, and a creak of the door. A pretend yawn, before a certain goodnight. She couldn’t be more thankful for his tact in that moment.

‘Have you done it with me?’ She lowered her tone, as if sharing a secret just between Lucanis and her. The Crow matched the slowly blooming intimacy, his hand running up to his neck again. A chuckle left his throat, echoing against the empty walls of the kitchen.

‘I think you would know if I had. The Antivan approach can be unmistakably direct,’ he kept up Rook’s gaze like never before. There was nothing except for the two of them anymore. Nothing, but the words shared, no energy wasted.

‘No, I mean the real thing,’ Rook moved closer. She studied Lucanis’ face for any trace of hesitation, anything that could suggest he wished for her to pull back. She was met with a kind smile, as his eyes traced away with his thoughts.

’Rook… I’m not sure I–‘

‘I wouldn’t mind it.’ His eyes returned to her face, dark and gleaming in the candlelight. Rook could feel herself smirk ever so slightly. ‘In case you’ve ever wondered. Or considered. Me.’ Lucanis’ brow furrowed just a little bit, as he looked down to notice her hand on his own. Rook breathed out, a tinge of nervousness creeping into her mind. How long has she been holding his hand? ‘I care for you, Lucanis. I thought you might… want to know. Forgive me,’ she added, letting go. But then, she froze for just a moment. Her breath caught, and hesitation washed over her, as if the moment had suddenly grown too large to hold. She reached up, her fingers touching Lucanis' chest. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, each thump clear and reassuring. She observed how the material of his vest bent subtly under her touch, as though it, too, was yielding to her presence, allowing her to close the distance between them.

Lucanis took a slow breath, then another, his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her. Rook smiled widely at the simple, intimate sensation. She felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach but before she could let the silence settle too deeply, she felt his hand rise, gentle and certain.

His fingers cupped her palm, holding it lightly just above his heart. Lucanis’ lips parted, as if he was on the verge of saying something. Yet, Rook wasn't certain she could bear the weight of whatever words he was about to offer – perhaps it was too soon, or perhaps it was too much to be said aloud.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she closed her eyes, taking a breath to steady herself, and slowly, she let go of his grasp. She rose to her feet, but to her surprise, his hand followed her, his fingers wrapping around her knuckles with his usual tenderness. As he stood up with her, there was no rush, no urgency. ‘I care for you, Rook,’ he said softly. ’Thank you for… this.’

She chuckled quietly, squeezing his hand once more before letting go.

‘My pleasure,’ she whispered back, her voice soft and carrying a quiet weight. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, but it shifted, pulled toward the door. With careful steps, she made her way toward the exit, her footsteps muted on the floor, as if the world around her had momentarily paused. As she reached the threshold, she stopped, her fingers brushing against the doorframe, and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes finding Lucanis once again.

He was smiling.

And that was always more than enough.

33 notes · View notes

brokenpieces-72 · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, how are you? I was thinking that it would be really cool to have a medic who’s a phoenix with healing tears and maybe can be a combat medic who can “die” on the field only to be reborn again as a chick for a little while then become an adult again. I hope you like it. ❤️

Hi, I’m doing well thank you for asking. Hunter honestly deserves a break from time to time and I’m gonna try to write this character as male, because I don’t have many guys. Sorry this took so long, I honestly wasn't sure how to start, and then I decided on another start and then I had two in the same place. So yeah.

Nix

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

The most annoying thing about your condition is how often you have to deal with resets. A lot of your human regiments took your immortality and healing benefits for granted and often forgot, oh yeah you can still die. At the same time, being on a hybrid team meant most of them have healing factors so your tears didn’t do much.

When you returned for your new placement after getting shot down in the field you found a pleasant surprise. Section Chief Laswell, who you knew by reputation. She was there to give you information on your new station, which you were very pleased with. A couple of humans but mainly hybrids. As a combat medic you could be valuable when it came to injuries that the healing factors couldn’t handle.

This is what you had studied for, your research and work targeted towards hybrids and their autonomy and anatomy. The night before you shipped out you went over each file, twice. Not a single one was the same as the last. A dragon with one wing? If there’s one thing you sadly could heal with was limbs removed to that degree. A wraith was certainly a new one. The research that could be don-no! No. You had to be respectful, and you refused to treat anyone like an experiment. If you wanted to learn more you could do it via observation.

Arriving to base you were met with Captain Price, and the medic, Hunter. They both shook your hand, as you introduced yourself. You noted the shoulder weight on Price, to compensate for the missing wing. Maybe an improvement could be made, but that was something to discuss later on. For the most part you would be in combat, fighting and taking care of injuries on the field. Of course to make your fellow medic’s life easier you came with small dropper vials of your tears.

You would be working with Hunter the closest, who was more than happy to make you feel comfortable. You were escorted to the med bay where there were a few occupied cots and Hunter guided you through each of them. It was the same as any other first day on base, despite your experience. You only correct Hunter when they make obvious mistakes, knowing they were testing your skills. Hunter brought you to a cot with a man who may be one of the tallest you’ve met, passed out on the cot.

“And can you tell me what happened to this patient?” You asked Hunter before they could ask you. Hunter appreciated the playful challenge in your eyes.

“This is one of our KorTac transfers. He’s a Percht hybrid, and he’s recovering from a rampage.”

“Interesting. It happens often?” You asked.

“That he passes out at the end or that he goes on a rampage?” Hunter asked. You gave them a look, that reminded Hunter of their training days. “He passes out after every rampage, but doesn’t always go into one. For the most part his size and skills get him through the field well enough.”

“That must make it easier.” You commented. Hunter nodded.

“How long is the recovery period?” You asked, this time an actual question.

“Depends on various factors.” Hunter said. You assumed as much. Still, quite intriguing. “Once he wakes up though, I have to do routine physicals on each of the hybrids, if you don’t mind assisting.”

“Much more detailed look than any file will provide, I’m sure.” You said.

When Konig wakes up, he is still given a few hours to rest to work off a nasty headache, but he allows you to assist with his check up. You make small chat with him, but it’s clear that headache remains potent. Once you take some measurements and check scars and injuries he’s sent on his way. Decent enough guy.

Horangi is called in next, and as a haetae he’s equally intriguing. At first glance anyone would take it for a tiger hybrid but you’ve already read his file. He’s compliant but a little reserved. Still gives you casual respect, noting you definitely weren’t human. Though your features aren’t very obvious to anyone. Horangi gives you a nod out of courtesy and leaves once his health information is written down.

Price steps in, and when his shirt comes off you see the shoulder weight much more clearly. You can only imagine the amount of force it would take to rip his wing off let alone remove it from the socket completely. You asked the captain if the counter weight was even enough for proper balance. He admits it could be improved but at the same time he’s gotten used to it, and changes could make it a little difficult. You still offered to help him with finding him a better solution and he accepted.

A new pair of wings comes in, and shakes your hand almost immediately, recognizing you as a new face. Kyle commented on your warm hands, which were pleasantly toasty. Yeah you got that a lot. Kyle was curious about you though, noting you didn’t show any wings yourself, despite being a Phoenix. It’s a little more complicated than that, but he doesn’t pry anymore than you are comfortable with.

Johnny takes the seat and makes a few jests towards Hunter, who rolled their eyes. You aren’t afraid to make some comments of your own, which makes Johnny more relaxed around you. Good, you didn’t want to wrestle with a werewolf if you could avoid it. If you could avoid injury that was preferable.

When Simon steps in you feel it first, like there is death close by, simply waiting like a parent at a doctor’s office. You’d read up on Simon before coming to the base and you’d hardly heard of wraiths let alone seen one in person. Right off the bat you ask if questions are okay, and Simon prefers they’re kept to a minimum. You have most of your information from the files, so you simply ask him how he prefers his tea. Simon certainly feels a bit more at ease. You’ve seen plenty of cases in your time, you knew how to make people comfortable.

Next is Rodolfo, who is mostly human. His cadejos are very charming, and you get to give them some belly rubs. Easy, calm and relaxed conversation between you two. He and Hunter seem to be close.

Alejandro comes in and okay dang that’s some muscle. A nagual, a guardian. And Rudy’s husband. Proud of it too. You can understand why.

Finally, you meet the youngest which is Spirit. You offer to leave so she can be examined properly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Hunter ensures she stays covered for the most part and you look away out of respect. Spirit is very excited to lift her shirt, to show you her ribs. Except you find a normal physique. Hunter still encourages her to keep it up, as they continue to examine them. A jackalope hybrid, with a wendigo form. Antlers are a little chipped but healthy enough. She’s sent on her way afterwards.

“Coffee?” You suggested to Hunter.

“Please.” They said.

“Seriously how do you fall out of a helicopter?” You asked Gaz on the roof. Gaz chuckled, shaking his head.

“Very talented my friend.” Gaz told him.

“Yes but when you have wings.” You said.

“Speaking of wings,” Kyle said. “Mind if I ask about yours?”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

“Well they told us you were a Phoenix. Guess I figured you’d have wings, you’re pretty rare specimen.” Gaz explained.

“Oh right. Ha…” you trailed off.

“If it’s a sensitive topic I get it.” Gaz said, you brushed it off.

“No no… I honestly don’t know why.” You said. “I remember being jealous of harpies like you though.”

Gaz’s wings puffed up a little. You smiled, enjoying the short time of peace and quiet. Gaz said, “I’m flattered.”

The team waited with baited breath at the clouded battlefield, waiting for you to return. Hunter stood near by, a stretcher ready to be loaded onto the helicopter. As soon as your silhouette was visible, carrying a barely conscious Rodolfo on your shoulder. You were in no better state, gritting your teeth and ignoring the blood you had. Alejandro and Hunter closed the distance between you and the rest of the team, Alejandro taking Rudy and Hunter catching you as you stumble from the weight being lifted.

As Hunter helps you to the helicopter, the propellers already starting up, you handed her a vial of clear liquid. "For Rudy. It will make his recovery...faster."

Hunter lowered your hand, focusing on getting you inside, and getting home. Rudy was laid on the stretcher, and hoisted in while Price gave you a hand, hauling you up and taking you to a seat. Hunter worked on Rudy first, taking the vial you'd offered. Admittedly Hunter almost didn't believe you, but given Rudy's condition, it was better to take the shot.

You watched, eyes growing tired and your vision blurring. Hunter was a brilliant medic. The eye dropper was used on Rudy's wounds, and healed over quickly. Poor guy would still need to rest as your tears couldn't do much for head injuries unless they were bleeding. You panted in your seat, before stealing a glance down. There were blood stains on your clothes, but you ignore them. You could use a break.

When Price tried to call Hunter over to give you attention, you put a hand on his arm. "I'm good."

"You're going to bleed out." Price argued. You just nodded. Yeah, you were.

"I'll be fine." You insisted. "Please Captain. Been needing a break."

"Hunter?" Price called, seemingly ignoring your wishes. "Just patch 'em up."

Hunter obliged. You weren't going to be leaving anytime soon. Sometimes for you it was easier to just hit the reset button. At least you had some good company, company that valued you for more than just your tears. You rest your head back, fighting to stay awake. Gritting your teeth you warmed your hand up, a soft warm glow appearing on your palm. The hand went to your wounds clotting them, before Hunter could get the bandages out.

“Damn it Nix!” They barked at you. You chuckled through your pain, as they batted your hand away and started to wrap you in gauze. “I could help you more if you would just let me.”

“I know… I know…” you said.

You were helped out of the helicopter by Simon, where you saw the rest of the team waiting. Johnny had a smile on his face until he saw you. Spirit’s face was covered by her hand in shock. Gaz rushed over immediately, taking your other arm to take the weight off Hunter but you shake your head. You were far enough.

“Set me down.” You breathed. Hunter looked at you, hating this part. “I’ll be fine.”

Hunter reluctantly lowered you to the ground, while Kyle stepped back. You turned your head to the side, seeing a sunset. Beautiful. Always beautiful. You overhear Spirit asking what was going on. Her concern was sweet. A deep breath and you shut your eyes. Another good ending.

The team looked on as your body burst into flames. Spirit gasped, eyes wide watching you burn. Johnny held her back, looking on as if it were just another campfire. Price folded his arms, wing going around Kyle on instinct. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, seeing someone they had come to care about, burning in front of them. Luckily it was also quick. Your body became a pile of ash.

“I hate it when he does that.” Hunter commented.

“It’s his choice.” Price reminded them. Doesn’t mean Hunter had to like it.

“What… what happened?” Spirit asked confused. She hadn’t seen you reset before, you’d only been back on the team for a short while, having been called to other assignments. Johnny let Spirit go, while Kyle approached the ashes.

“I’ll show you.” He said, gesturing for Spirit to approach. The jackalope came over seeing the pile of ash start to shift. “Come on you bald chicken, come on out.”

Your beak poked out of the ash your head following with it. Spirit gasped while Kyle smiled. You felt his finger stroke your head. You let out a happy chittering sound. “There he is.”

“I’ll get a blanket.” Hunter said.

The best part of your rebirth is probably the pampering. You already asked Kyle to show Spirit what to do before the mission. Kyle was fine with playing nursemaid, and giving Spirit some extra education.

“He remembers everything? Even though he died?” She asked while you were looking back at her in your blanket nest.

“Everything.” Kyle told her. “Only thing that changes is his age. He grows quickly from hatchling, and then it’s a matter of shifting back to human. By that point he’s an adult.”

“Never seen a phoenix before.” Spirit commented, resting her head on the table. You leaned over and nibbled at her nose, making her giggle. You got gentle strokes to beak as a reward.

It didn't take too long for you to get your feathers back. It let you take off, enough for some branching and practice, but not much distance yet. Spirit helped you by letting you ride on her antlers around the base. She was very careful, doing constant check ins to make sure you didn't fall off. If you weren't on Spirit's antlers you were riding somebody's shoulder. Except Simon's.

You don't feel safe around Simon in such a vulnerable state. If you had your human form, you would be fine. Simon is also fine with this. You're a phoenix, they're not very comfortable around undead, and technically speaking he is undead. Your skills against thralls and vampires were enough to satisfy him. Johnny is often in the same room anyways, so having a wolf as a mediator even with just his presence put you more at ease.

Hunter keeps you close as well. It's been a while since your last regeneration, so they take advantage to study you and any changes you might have in behaviour and personality. You don't mind, they don't needles to you except for any vaccinations they deem necessary. The other medics find your presence a treat, getting to greet you, and admire the beautiful warm colours of your feathers coming in.

Once you're able to fly a bit better, you often start to wake up Hunter. It's getting colder and the heating unit on base isn't exactly perfect, so some areas on the base are still chilly. You give off enough body heat that Hunter can pull on a hoodie, put you in the large packet, and have a couple minutes to warm up before getting their coffee. Sometimes Hunter puts the hoodie around your nest to heat it up over night.

Once Hunter has their morning coffee, you take off to wake the others. You land in front of Simon's door and let out a small cry. Simon doesn't always sleep, but rather he tries to relax in his room. Once there is movement, you move on to the next one. If Johnny isn't in Simon's room or outside after a full moon, you find him next. There's only so many places Johnny can be a full wolf inside, and the cold doesn't bother him, but Simon will open his door for you so you can nestle up next to him before letting off some extra heat. You may or may not nudge him with your beak, hey! No rolling over! Come on!

You're not quite heavy enough, and your talons can't grip the handle or knobs properly. First time you woke Simon he suggested he help you with your wake up calls. You didn;t object, and saw it as a trust excerise, since Johnny will help you if he's sharing a room with Simon for the night.

Alright, Kyle is next. Sometimes he's already awake or he's with the captain. Simon lets you in, and you fly over. Kyle is a harpy and therefore has some bird tendencies, include his wings covering his face a bit when he sleeps. You find an opening easily enough to wake him. Once your hear a soft morning from him you're able to get him out of bed. You let him wake up on his own, before heading out of the room and on to the next one.

Spirit is a typical teenager, and will try to ignore you like Johnny. That is if she doesn't try to curl up with you like a plushie. You land, wake her, and as soon as she reaches for you, you're off again. Spirit tends to get dressed and showered before eating breakfast anyways. You leave her to it.

You don't go to Konig if he's had a rampage the day before. He needs rest and he's unconscious. After the red mist he can make you aren't about to bother him. Konig is a gentle giant sure, you ride his shoulder any time the medics are uneasy around him to make them feel safe. You don't want to try to force him awake if you don't have to, and usually his rampages land him in the medbay anyways. Today you could wake him, and its the same as most, but you don't have to warm him up much. You get a warm greeting from him though as he drags himself out of bed.

You don't like waking up Horangi. Why? Because sometimes he's a jerk. More than once you've gone in to wake him, found his bed empty and are met with a haetae looking at you like Lucifer looks at a cornered mouse in Cinderella. You've taken to just letting out a call outside his door. One time you did this and Horangi opened the door ready to pounce and spook you. You retreated and let out a cry at him. Horangi was pretty smug, right up until he saw Simon close by, staring him down. Yeah, he stopped after that.

Alejandro and Rodolfo share a room, so not as much work. You can let out a call from hallway and they'll take a couple minutes. The two warm each other up, no issues there. You've gone in before and landed behind Alejandro, pecking at his back to wake him. Didn't work, he nearly rolled on top of you. If you hadn't cried out when you did, jolting him awake, you might have had some bent feathers. You go inside today though, as Rudy's injuries are still a little rough. It can take longer for him to fall asleep, and Alejandro struggles with sleep as a part of it. You're able to hop on to the bed, hop on to Rudy and land between them. You nudge Rudy first, who gives you some pets to get himself moving. Rudy then wakes the colonel, and you're on to the last one.

Price sleeps well enough but sometimes you find him sleeping on his desk or sitting next to his bed going over some files. Workaholic. Simon tries to scold him about it but well, it's not really scolding. More just commenting. Simon cracks open the door and you poke your head in. WOO! He's sleeping! You almost don't want to wake him. But you have to. The advantage here is that you can wamr up with him, because as a dragon hybrid he's pretty warm. You can nestle with him for a bit, giving him a couple miniutes before you wake him. Price groaned once you were comfortable. He saw you, and got out of bed, picking you up, and holding you to his core, where his body was the hottest.

Kyle takes you up to the roof anytime he relaxes up there. All he has to do is find you call "Nix". You know where you're going, and you'll fly over immediately. You get to relax with him outside and sometimes go for a flight yourself, with Kyle watching or joining you. It gives you a chance to brush up on your hunting skills. Mice and rats weren't uncommon to find. Spirit comes out with you guys as well, laying back and staring up at you while you fly over head.

Another life another cycle. It can feel tedious, and one day you'll probably end up doing something else. For now you have good people, and safe space. It took time to find this, to build it. You weren't about to walk away from it. If only it could have been that easy.

You had gone with the team to an outpost, a temporary set up for a mission. You still weren't shifting, not that you couldn't but it wasn't an ideal form. If you did shift to human it would be very young and very vulnerable. You didn't want to reset before you had to, and a kid was an easy target. A juvenile phoenix? That would require more stopping power.

"Wheels up at 0500 tomorrow. Prep your gear, eat, rest up, and we move out." The captain ordered. You made a chirping sound to get his attention once the team dispersed. Price offered his arm for you, giving you a chance to fly over and land on him. You inch up to his good shoulder nuzzle the back of his ear befoire looking at him expectantly. The Captain recognized that look. You were very expressive for a bird.

"Nix you'll be staying behind." He told you. You squawked in protest, your feathers puffing. The captain sighed. "Nix, you'll provide overwatch with Gaz."

You wanted to do more, but without a human form, you had some limitations. At least as overwatch you could still do some work as a medic. Price got to work prepping his gear with you close by, either perched somewhere or on his shoulder. If you noticed someone looking for something, you brought it to them. You noticed Simon was tense and you already knew why. The location of the mission had some heavy memories for him. Hell even Price wasn't sure about coming. You noticed the scope to his rifle was missing as he was assembling the weapon. It was under the bench. You flew over to him, your bright colours catching his eye. Simon watched as you retrieved the missing piece and flapped up, onto the bench. The scope was in your talons as you out a soft chirp. Simon took the scope and you nudged his leg. Your tears could heal a lot, but emotional and mental wounds? Not so much.

"Thanks Nix. Stay safe yeah?" He told you. You stay safe? You were more worried about him.

Downside of being a phoenix - well you already know the downsides - everyone wants a phoenix. Hybrid trafficking is a thing as well, with some sick tickets enjoying the idea of having hybrids for pets. A phoenix has extra benefits, with healing tears. There has been entire debates and conferences on phoenix tears and whether it should be allowed to be bought and sold in pharmaceuticals. As for your feathers that's a whole other issue and has long since been deemed illegal to traffick real ones. Not that poachers would care.

The mission had been going fine, you were keeping an eye out for wounded human soldiers from above. It was like watching a maze being solved by multiple lines, and just as chaotic. Kyle had been called to the ground to assist a team, leaving you to take care of another wounded soldier. As soon as you landed next to him, you were grabbed. You didn't have an ear piece so no one heard your distress. The next thing you know, you're uncermoniously stuffed in a bag, and dragged off.

When you awoke you were in a bird cage which you would never stop finding humiliating. This wasn't the furst time either, but you were more irritated by the fact that it had happened when you were trying to help someone. That being said you know better than to thrash against your cage, knowing they would try to restrain you further to preserve your feathers. To make matters worse you recognized the voice of the person who had caught you.

Valeria stood there staring at you. You tilted your head at her, remaining calm and avoiding too focused of a gaze. Gorgon hybrids were familiar enough to you. You could avoid mind control well enough, including hers. The question was if she recognized you as well. You were younger than when she previously saw you, and it was at a distance.

"Did you check for a tag?" She asked. The two men who'd caught you shared a look, and she sighed face palming. You weren't sure whether to pity them or laugh at them for such a rookie mistake. You did have a tag on you, Price had insisted on it. The way she went off on the two of them, holy crap. The fact she didn't turn them to stone right then and there was surprising.

"Out. I'll deal with you later." She hissed at them. That wasn't even a pun. Her attention was back on you, and you puffed up your feathers. The way she was staring at you was... kind of odd. If anything she seemed to be admiring you. I mean what was there to be disgusted by? You couldn't help but detect something else behind her eyes. The snakes didn't seem bothered by you.

"You could give me so much." Valeria commented. Fuck, not what you ever wanted to hear in this situation. You squawked in warning at her, almost challenging her to try something. She just smirked. "If only Graves were here, I might just set you on him. Maybe you could get him to shift gears."

She sighed seeing you bristle. "But you're with that pack of misfits... hmph... I'll take advantage of what time I have before they come to collect you."

As soon as you saw a few figures approaching with gloves, you started to thrash. Not again. You wouldn't let this happen again.

"Nix... Nix can you hear me?"

You were a pitiful sight. A number of feathers had been plcked from you, and your eyes were dry and sore.

"Can you hear me... try to move if you can..."

That voice. Spirit. You heard a couple more but they were further away. You tried to force your eyes open, but all you felt was still air on them. There was a crack of light but not enough to make out anything.

"Hunter.... he needs help!"

"Shit... come on Nix don't make me do this the easy way... really hate doing that... stay with us."

Tired... you were just tired and sore. You can feel gloves again, and you try to scratch back with your talons.

"Hold him down..."

"Yep." You felt leather holding your legs.

"Gently."

"I'm trying."

Something is laid next to you, you feel the edge brush against you. very gently you're awkwardly placed into something soft. You thrash at first, your mind still alert, but the voices assure you everything will be okay. It was all going to be okay... sleep... you wanted... sleep...

Hunter wasted no time getting you back to the med bay, getting you fixed up. They hadn't hesitated to break some things, and extracting your tears was done with little care for your well being. You felt something cover your head and you relaxed, realizing it was over.

Sleep returned to you while Hunter did their best to fix you up. As always, a remarkable job was done. You were placed in Spirit's room in a warm nest made of blankets and a hoodie. Recovery would be slow but you didn't need a reset. Not this time. You didn't want one either. When you woke back up you heard the team talking.

"His wings were broken, his eyes are dry and primary feathers were removed..." Kyle said, repeating the information Hunter had given them.

"Literal no fly list." Spirit commented.

"Having his eyes bandaged for now is the safest, so he'll need extra assistance around base." Hunter mentioned. "If he chooses to stay on base during the recovery period."

"I hate to mention it, but if Nix were to reset...

"No." Hunter said immediately. "I'm not about to do a reset."

"Could... someone else do it?" Spirit asked, her tone hesitant.

"I'm the only one with the training to do it, if anyone else does it on the team, it could be considered... no." Hunter trailed off before putting their foot down. Hippocratic oaths didn't cover phoenixes, and Hunter was strongly against being the reason you reset.

"Nix will still recover." Simon spoke up. "Just extra time."

"That settles it." Price said, before anybody could object. Not that anyone would. You fell back asleep hearing that.

The next time you awoke, you felt large hands take hold of you. You stayed calm, feeling yourself pressed to a warm chest. You were carried out of the bedroom and into a more communal space. The bandages remained over your eyes. You knew it would be while until you could see properly again.

"Hunter wants to give you some eye drops." You heard Price say softly. You let out a soft cooing sound, showing your appreciation. The team had to put in extra effort to help you recover, and they were choosing to do so. You heard Price and Hunter talking quietly, with Spirit asking if she could help.

"Keep your eyes shut, I'll tell you when to open them." Spirit said while Hunter instructed her on how to apply the eye drops. When the bandage was removed, you couldn't register much light. Hunter was doing this to protect your eyes. Gentle, latex fingers took off your bandages. Spirit asked you to open one eye and the drops were applied. It was a welcome relief until you could produce more natural tears. The other eye was treated and a new bandage was applied. This would take some time before you could see again.

Once Spirit said you were finished, Price took you to get fed, letting you locate the food yourself. You heard Kyle come into the room. You replied to his entrance with a friendly chirp. After you filled up on spices and fruit extracts Price picked you back up.

Price laid back and placed you on his chest where his heat was the strongest. The warmth was a great comfort, and you nestled in. You told yourself, when you could properly shift to a human state, you would thank him, and apologize for being so reckless. In maybe a week or so you would be around Spirit's age, and by the end of the month you would be an adult. By that point you should have your feathers back, and be able to see properly.

For now, you rested against the captains warm chest, trying to rest again. Those sickos had left their mark though. It wasn't long before you started to fidget and needed to be woken up again. Kyle woke you, taking you off Price's hands so he could get to work on his reports. You let out a startled tweet, your feathers puffing again.

"I got ya Nix. You're safe here." Kyle assured you. If only could see it for yourself.

Your blindfold stayed on until you could shift to an adult. It had come with some difficulties, and you shifted to human a few times before if only to make navigation a little easier. Spirit spent plenty of time with you, helping you walk around. Hunter insisted on a human state to get better adjusted to walking around with assistance.

Despite Hunter's intentions, König would pick you up and take you to whereever you need to go. You weren't much heavier than Spirit anyways. Horangi's antics against you stopped as soon as he learned what had happened. You didn't know at the time, but if he overheard someone making comments about your vision, he made the room foggy with his clouds and caused them to stumble around. The cadejos are great seeing eye dogs, and Rudy showed you how they can guide you around. May have led to you bumping into a wall or two, from the cadejos passing through them. Alejandro worked with Hunter and Price to find tasks you could do on base with your young age and impairment. You found you could still navigate the medbay with little issue, but sharp items were kept out of reach.

The biggest issue was your nightmares. More than once you would wake up to complete darkness and cold sweat. You didn't cry out, not wanting to bother anyone else. Except Spirit doesn't work that way, nor does Ghost. Ghost on more than one occasion has walked in on you, checking to see how you're doing. Spirit could hear your small noises of distress as well.

One night, Spirit knocked on your door. You allowed her entry from your bed, and she offered to take you for a walk or get a snack. Each time you accepted her invitation. Spirit didn't pry or bother you with questions. You got the impression she'd been through this before, or something similar. After half an hour or so you were led back to your room and could sleep the rest of the night.

Then came a night where Ghost came to your room. He announced himself calmly, and you were helped out of bed. The bandages would be coming off the next day. You were relieved to finally see again. The nightmares didn't subside though. Ghost made sure you had tea and something to eat before he decided to lay it all down.

"They did a number on you." Ghost stated.

"Yep." You said calmly.

"Sick fuckers." Ghost commented. "You made it out alive."

"I got myself caught, and put myself in that situation." You said.

"You did." Ghost agreed. Great talk Ghost, very inspiring.

"Should've stayed behind. I'm living with my mistakes." You reminded him.

"Same." Ghost said sipping his own mug. You turned towards his voice. "If all you do is beat yourself up about your mistakes, you're just gonna turn purple. You've got scars, we all do. That's what happens when you make choices."

"I know." You said. You'd been around for a long while. This isn't the first time you'd dealt with something like that.

"I'd fucking hope so, you're older than me." Simon pointed out. "But if you know, then you know when to fucking say something."

"I do. Once the bandages come off, I'll be attending therapy. Not sure if they can help but it's worth trying." You told Ghost. Ghost looked at you while you finished your midnight tea.

"Good." He said.

You sat on the bed, a full adult. Spirit instructed you to shield your eyes with your hand while the cotton pads were removed from each side.

"Okay... open slowly." Spirit said. You did, wincing a bit. "Well?"

You stared at your hand. "Five right?"

Spirit's face lit up as she confirmed it. Finally you could get back to work again. Of course Hunter wouldn't let you. Instead it was a mental health day, and it was doctor's orders so no getting out of it. The team left you alone and you returned to your room, sitting on your bed. You know what comes next, and you know it could mean you leaving the base and the team. It was important though.

You dialed the number you found online. A receptionist answered. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"Hi, I'd like to set up a consultation with a therapist."

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stylesonfilms · 2 days ago

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ink & innocence - 21

word count: 8.8k

sorry for the wait, hope you guys enjoy!

The next day, though Harry had to be cooped up at the shop once more, he made sure to bring Aspen along. The girl sat perched by the front desk, swaying in her chair as Niall and Zayn kept her company while her boyfriend worked on another large last minute walk-in piece.

Aspen hadn't minded tagging along to the shop today. In fact, she liked being around Harry's world, seeing the environment he was so comfortable in. It was different from her own, rougher around the edges, but it fascinated her. The steady hum of the tattoo machines, the scent of antiseptic and ink in the air—it was all so uniquely him.

She sat at the front desk, her legs crossed at the ankle as she absentmindedly flipped through one of the shop's design books. Every now and then, her eyes drifted toward Harry's station where he was focused on a client, sleeves pushed up, forearms tense with concentration. He looked good when he worked, brows drawn together, tongue occasionally swiping across his bottom lip in focus. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks just watching him.

Zayn and Niall were keeping her company in the meantime, the two of them going back and forth in their usual banter, making Aspen giggle behind her hand.

"You know, I think I'd look real good with a full sleeve," Niall mused, stretching his arm out in front of him and squinting as if he were already picturing it.

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. "You're too indecisive. You'd get halfway through and regret it."

Aspen giggled as Niall shot Zayn an exaggerated glare. "Oi! I could pull it off." He turned to Aspen for backup. "Don't you think I'd look good with a sleeve?"

Aspen tilted her head, feigning deep thought before giving a shy little shrug. "I think it would suit you... maybe."

Zayn barked out a laugh, pointing at Niall. "Even Aspen doesn't sound convinced."

Niall groaned, slumping back dramatically in his seat, which only made Aspen giggle more. The conversation carried on lightheartedly, small jokes exchanged between them as she grew more comfortable with their dynamic.

"Okay, fine," Niall huffed. "No sleeve. But what about, like, a single bold piece? Something cool and mysterious. Maybe a dagger? A wolf? A dragon?"

Zayn raised a brow. "You sound like every dude who walks in here asking for their 'first ink' and then chickens out when the needle actually touches their skin."

Aspen covered her mouth as she laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Do people really do that?"

"More often than you'd think," Zayn smirked, leaning against the counter. "You should see some of the excuses we get. 'Oh, I forgot I had a meeting.' 'Oh, my girlfriend doesn't like tattoos.' 'Oh, I think I left my oven on at home.'"

Aspen giggled harder, imagining the scene unfolding.

Niall pointed at Zayn accusingly. "Listen, I may be many things, but a coward is not one of them. If I commit, I commit."

Zayn gave him a skeptical look. "That so?"

"Absolutely."

Aspen, still smiling, tapped a finger against the open design book in front of her. "Well... if you had to pick one right now, what would it be?"

Niall leaned over, scanning the page, before pointing to a classic anchor design. "That. Timeless. Rugged. Manly."

Zayn snorted. "Basic."

"Oh, come on!" Niall groaned. "I thought we were past judging people for classic ink choices!"

Aspen bit her lip to keep from laughing too hard, enjoying the easy back-and-forth between them. She liked this—being included, feeling like she belonged in their little world.

Her eyes flickered over to Harry again, watching the way he moved, the way he gently tilted his client's arm to get a better angle, the way he was so deeply focused. It still amazed her, how skilled he was, how much he cared about his craft. He made everything seem effortless.

She didn't even realize she was staring until Niall leaned closer and whispered, "You're drooling."

Aspen's face burned as she snapped her gaze back to him. "I—I am not!"

Niall grinned, nudging her arm. "S'fine, love, we get it. Your boyfriend's hot."

Zayn smirked, adding, "At least you're subtle about it."

Aspen groaned, burying her face in her hands as they both chuckled at her expense.

"Fine, fine," she muttered, shaking her head with a shy smile. "Let's change the subject."

"Aw, but this was getting good," Niall teased, but he relented when she shot him a playful glare.

Aspen took a sip from her water bottle, settling herself again before her curiosity got the better of her.

Aspen absentmindedly traced patterns along the condensation of her water bottle, the soft hum of tattoo machines filling the shop as she let the words roll off her tongue without much thought. "So... where were you guys the other day?"

She wasn't asking with suspicion—just curiosity. It was normal for them all to be busy, especially Harry and Zayn, but with both of them disappearing on the same day, she had assumed they had been working at the shop together.

Zayn, who had been scrolling on his phone, stilled almost imperceptibly. It was brief, barely noticeable, before he smoothly resumed, tapping his thumb against the screen in thought.

Niall, however, was as easygoing as ever, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Dunno. They weren't at the shop, I—"

Before he could finish, Zayn subtly nudged him under the counter, just enough to make Niall pause. The interruption was swift, casual, and Aspen didn't catch on to its meaning.

Niall, never one to be easily flustered, let out an easy chuckle. "Oh, wait, nah. I got my days mixed up," he corrected smoothly, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Yeah, they were definitely here. You know how it is—busy day, tons of walk-ins. I wasn't here much, though. Just popped in for a bit."

Aspen nodded, easily accepting the answer. It made sense. Niall was always in and out, never one to stay planted in one place unless he had a reason to.

Zayn leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as he picked up the explanation. "Yeah, long ass day. Harry and I had some big pieces to do, so we were stuck here forever. Back-to-back appointments. Barely had time to eat, let alone breathe." His voice was smooth, perfectly composed, and it wasn't unusual for him and Harry to take on big projects.

Aspen didn't even think to question it further. In fact, she felt a little guilty for asking—if they'd had such a long day, she didn't want to seem like she was prying.

She stole a glance at Harry across the room. He was still deep in his work, head tilted in concentration, jaw set as he dragged the tattoo machine carefully over his client's skin. He looked so at home in his element.

She smiled softly to herself, brushing away any lingering thoughts. Harry had never given her a reason to doubt him, and besides, if something was wrong, he would tell her.

"Well, as long as you weren't getting into trouble," she teased lightly, taking a sip of her water.

Niall grinned, dramatically clutching his chest. "Me? Trouble? Never."

Zayn smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink, the picture of amusement but offering no further comment.

Aspen giggled at their antics, letting the conversation drift into something else, not noticing the fleeting glance Zayn and Niall exchanged. If she had, maybe she would've realized there was more to the story than they were letting on.

Aspen leaned forward slightly in her chair, resting her elbow on the desk as she idly twirled the cap of her water bottle between her fingers. The conversation had shifted naturally, moving from their usual banter to something a little more personal.

"So, what's the plan for you two, then?" Niall grinned, wiggling his brows between her and Zayn. "Aspen, you finally got yourself a big, brooding tattoo artist. What's next?"

Aspen blushed, the warmth creeping up her neck. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I don't know... we're just taking things as they come."

"Boring answer," Niall teased, leaning back in his chair. "Come on, give me something. Future plans? Marriage? White picket fence? Maybe some tattooed babies running around?"

Aspen nearly choked on her water, her face burning even hotter. "Niall!" she squeaked, eyes wide.

Zayn barked out a laugh, slapping a hand against the counter. "Too soon, man," he smirked. "Let 'em breathe."

"I'm just saying! You two are disgustingly cute." Niall stretched his arms behind his head. "If Harry wasn't already obsessed with you, I'd be worried."

Aspen tried to play off her embarrassment, but she couldn't stop the way her lips curled into a soft smile. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her bottle again, and when she stole another glance across the room, she caught Harry's gaze.

He was already looking at her.

It was brief, just a flicker of his eyes before he turned his attention back to his work, but it was enough to send a pleasant warmth blooming in Aspen's chest.

Niall was still talking, something about how he was destined to be the world's best godfather whenever Harry and Aspen decided to have kids (which, in Aspen's opinion, was way too early to even think about), but she was only half-listening.

Because every time she glanced toward Harry, she caught him doing the same.

And every time their eyes met, it sent little flutters through her stomach.

"So what about you guys?" she asked, eager to shift the conversation away from herself. "What's your plan for the future?"

Zayn shrugged, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Haven't thought about it much. Business is good. I don't see myself doing anything else anytime soon."

"Fair," Aspen nodded. "And you, Niall?"

"Oh, I'm gonna be rich," Niall declared, pointing at himself with full confidence. "But like, stupid rich. Don't ask me how yet. Maybe I'll invent something. Or marry into money. Either way, I'll be set."

Aspen laughed, shaking her head. "Solid plan."

"Exactly," Niall grinned. "And speaking of plans... Aspen, be real with me—are you gonna stay with this guy forever, or what?"

Aspen opened her mouth to respond, but she didn't have an answer.

Forever?

Her gaze flickered back toward Harry. She wasn't even sure if he was listening to their conversation, but she knew that if she was being honest with herself... the idea of forever with him didn't seem so scary.

She just smiled, a little shy, a little uncertain.

"We'll see," she murmured.

And from across the room, Harry glanced up once more—just in time to catch her looking at him again.

Aspen shifted in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the cap of her water bottle as she debated whether or not to ask the question sitting at the tip of her tongue. She wasn't usually the type to pry, but curiosity had a way of gnawing at her when it came to Harry—especially when it came to the parts of his life he didn't bring up often.

"Can I ask you guys something?" she finally murmured, glancing between Niall and Zayn.

Zayn quirked a brow, while Niall leaned in like she was about to spill the most interesting gossip he'd ever heard. "Course you can, sweetheart," Niall grinned. "What's on your mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before voicing what she'd been wondering. "Has Harry ever talked about... past relationships? Like, has he ever been in love before?"

Niall and Zayn exchanged a look, one Aspen couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't amusement, nor was it discomfort—it was something in between, like they were deciding how much they should say.

"Depends on what you mean by 'in love,'" Zayn finally said, tapping his fingers against the counter. "If you're asking if he's had girlfriends before, then yeah, he's had a few. If you're asking if he's ever been in love? That's a different question entirely."

Aspen frowned slightly. "So... has he?"

Zayn sighed, tilting his head as he considered his answer. "I don't think so," he admitted. "Not the way you mean. Harry's had flings, some more serious than others, but he's never been the type to settle down. Not because he couldn't, just... he never found anyone he wanted to."

Aspen processed that quietly, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on her bottle. It wasn't a bad answer. If anything, it only made her feel more special—like she was different.

Still, she wasn't quite done with her questions.

"What about the way he talks about me?" she asked softly, suddenly feeling a little shy about the inquiry. "Does he... ever bring me up?"

Niall let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back. "God, Aspen, you have no idea," he whined. "The man does not shut up about you."

Aspen's eyes widened. "He does?"

"Constantly," Zayn smirked. "It's almost embarrassing, really. We could be talking about literally anything, and he'll find a way to bring you into the conversation. 'Aspen would love this.' 'Aspen was reading this book the other day.' 'Aspen said the funniest thing.' It's ridiculous."

Aspen's face heated instantly, her heart swelling at the revelation. She'd known Harry cared about her—he wasn't shy in the way he showed his affection—but hearing that he talked about her so often when she wasn't around made her feel warm in a way she couldn't quite describe.

"Yeah," Niall added, grinning. "And don't even get me started on the way he talks about you when he's drunk."

Aspen's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, he gets all sappy," Niall said, waving a hand. "Like, real soft. Talks about how much he likes you, how you make him feel different than anyone else ever has. It's kinda sweet, actually, if you ignore the fact that he sounds like a lovesick idiot."

Aspen's heart did a little flip in her chest. "He really says that?"

"Every damn time," Zayn confirmed, shaking his head. "And if you ask me, that's saying a lot. Harry doesn't open up easily. But with you? I think he's completely gone."

Aspen chewed on her bottom lip, trying to suppress the giddy smile threatening to take over her face. She'd known Harry felt something strong for her, but hearing it from his friends, from the people who knew him best, made it feel even more real.

After a moment, she gathered her thoughts enough to ask her next question. "Has he ever told you guys why he never got serious with anyone before?"

Niall and Zayn exchanged another glance before Zayn answered. "He's never given us a straightforward reason," he admitted. "But I think it has to do with trust. Harry's not the kind of guy who lets people in easily. He's seen too many people turn their backs when things got hard, so he stopped letting them get close in the first place."

Aspen frowned slightly, her heart aching at the thought. She knew Harry had his walls, knew he carried burdens he didn't always talk about. But the idea that he'd spent so much of his life keeping people at arm's length made her want to hold onto him even tighter.

"Well," she said softly, her fingers curling around the edge of the counter, "I hope he knows he doesn't have to worry about that with me."

Zayn studied her for a moment before nodding, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think he does," he murmured. "And I think that's why you're different."

Aspen exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth spread through her chest. Maybe she was different. Maybe, despite everything, Harry had finally found someone he was willing to let in.

And maybe—just maybe—she was willing to let him in, too.

As Harry worked, the rhythmic hum of the tattoo machine filled the space around him, the buzz familiar and grounding. His hand was steady, movements precise as he filled in the last bit of shading on his client’s forearm. It was muscle memory by now, the way he worked—careful, methodical, ensuring every line was perfect. But despite how deep he was in his craft, his attention kept drifting elsewhere.

Aspen.

Every now and then, between dipping his needle into ink and wiping away excess, his gaze would flicker toward the front of the shop where she sat. She was perched on the chair, her legs tucked under her, absently twirling the cap of her water bottle between her fingers as she listened to whatever nonsense Niall and Zayn were spewing. She was smiling, her cheeks soft with warmth, and fuck—Harry swore he could feel that smile in his damn chest.

It was different, having her here. Not in a bad way—quite the opposite, really. It was grounding, a quiet reassurance that she was becoming a part of this life of his. A life he never thought he’d want to share so openly with someone.

His fingers tightened around the tattoo machine slightly. That thought—it was dangerous. Because there were parts of his life she couldn’t know. Not yet.

He swallowed, forcing his focus back on the piece he was working on. The secrecy—it wasn’t about not trusting her. He did. More than he cared to admit. But there were things in his world that were better left in the dark. Things that weren’t meant for someone like her—soft, kind, untouched by the shit he and Zayn were tangled up in.

Maybe one day, he’d tell her. But not now. Not when he could still shield her from it.

He exhaled, shaking off the heaviness pressing against his ribs, and refocused on finishing up.

Fifteen minutes later, he wiped down the tattoo one last time, nodding in satisfaction before wrapping it up. “Alright, man,” he said to his client, standing and stretching out his arms. “You’re all set. Just follow the aftercare instructions, and you’ll be golden.”

After handling payment and bidding the guy goodbye, Harry finally took a breath. His break had been long overdue.

As he walked over to the front of the shop, the scent of food hit him first. His brows lifted slightly in surprise as he spotted Aspen setting out plates in front of Niall and Zayn, her movements careful and deliberate as she made sure everyone had what they needed. His own plate was set aside for him, waiting.

His heart clenched at the sight.

She had cooked for them?

Something about that simple act of care made something deep in him ache.

Before he made his way over to grab his plate, he veered slightly, walking past Niall and—without hesitation—snagging a bite right off his plate.

“Oi!” Niall protested, pulling his plate away. “What the hell, mate? You've got your own!”

Harry chewed, smirking as he handed Niall back his fork. “I know,” he said easily with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “but if m'lady made it, I want it all.”

Aspen, who had just taken a seat, turned a deep shade of red at his words, her fingers curling in her lap as she ducked her head slightly.

Niall groaned, rolling his eyes as he snatched his plate back. “Christ, you two are disgusting.”

Harry grinned, but didn’t respond, instead making his way over to his own plate. Before sitting down, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against Aspen’s cheek from behind.

She stilled for a second, then exhaled, shoulders loosening as a shy little smile played on her lips.

Harry took his seat next to her, grabbing his fork as he dug in. The second he took his first bite, he let out a hum of approval. “Fuck, baby. This is good.”

“She’s got skills,” Zayn agreed, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “Could open up a restaurant or some shit.”

Aspen’s cheeks were still pink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really not that big of a deal…”

“It is when all we usually eat is takeout,” Niall chimed in. “This is the best thing I’ve had all week.”

Harry chewed thoughtfully, tapping his fork against his plate before swallowing. “Dunno,” he mused, his lips curling into a slow, cheeky smirk. “I’ve had somethin’ better this week.”

Niall snorted. “Mate, there’s no way you’ve eaten anything better than this. We’ve all been living off gas station snacks and whatever the hell Zayn throws together when he remembers food exists.”

Harry simply leaned back in his chair, draping his arm over the back of Aspen’s. His smirk deepened as he tilted his head slightly toward her, voice dropping just enough to make her stomach twist. “Wasn’t talkin’ about the food.”

Aspen nearly choked on her bite of rice.

Her wide eyes snapped up to him, cheeks instantly burning as she realized exactly what he was implying. Her fingers curled against the napkin in her lap as she shot him a scandalized look, her lips parting slightly in disbelief.

Zayn, always one to catch on quickly, just chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Niall, on the other hand, took an extra second before groaning in exaggerated disgust. “Christ, Harry. I did not need that mental image while I’m eating.”

Harry only grinned, winking at Aspen before casually picking his fork back up like he hadn’t just made her want to shrink into the floor.

Aspen, flustered beyond belief, pressed her lips together, glancing down at her plate as if it might save her from the warmth spreading all the way to her ears. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, nudging his knee with hers beneath the table.

Harry let out a low chuckle, nudging her back. “But you like me anyway.”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer—mostly because it was true. And he damn well knew it.

Harry smirked, nudging Aspen lightly with his knee under the table. “Guess that means you’ll have to start cooking for us more often, yeah?”

Aspen rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on eating her own food, her lips twitching slightly as the conversation between them carried on.

The energy was easy, lighthearted. They talked about everything and nothing—Niall complaining about a client who wouldn’t stop moving while getting tattooed, Zayn discussing the new pieces he and Harry had lined up, Aspen giggling at their banter.

As the laughter settled, the four of them fell into easy conversation, the clinking of utensils against plates filling the quiet lulls between their words. Harry sat comfortably next to Aspen, his arm draped lazily along the back of her chair, occasionally letting his fingers brush the ends of her hair. It was subtle—so subtle that if someone wasn’t looking, they wouldn’t notice—but Aspen felt every touch, every slight movement of his fingers, and it made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

Zayn was the first to steer the conversation into something deeper, leaning back in his chair as he chewed. “So, what’s the plan for the future?” He raised a brow, glancing between them. “Y’know, since we’re all clearly on different paths here. You lot got it all figured out?”

Niall snorted. “Figure out what? That I’ll probably be covered head to toe in ink before I turn thirty and still be eating this girl’s cooking?” He gestured to Aspen with his fork, grinning. “Because if that’s the future, I’m pretty happy with it.”

Aspen smiled, warmth spreading in her chest at the compliment. “You act like I’ll be cooking for you forever,” she teased.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t do me like that. You’d miss me if I stopped showing up to steal your food.”

Harry rolled his eyes, smirking as he took a sip of his drink. “You’re like a stray cat. Feed you once, and you never leave.”

Zayn chuckled. “That explains why he practically lives at the shop.��

Niall threw up his hands in mock offense. “You lot love having me around, don’t even try to deny it.”

Aspen giggled, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the question Zayn had asked. “But, um, I don’t really know yet,” she admitted softly. “I mean, I have ideas. I love books, so maybe something with that… but it’s hard to say.”

Harry glanced at her, taking in the slight uncertainty in her voice. He could tell she thought about it—probably more than she let on—but she wasn’t one to be loud about her ambitions. She kept them tucked away, only revealing them in small doses, and for some reason, that made him want to hear them even more.

“What about you?” Aspen nudged Harry’s arm lightly.

He took a slow bite, chewing as he considered his answer. “Dunno,” he said finally. “Tattooin’ is what I love. Keeps me steady, keeps me busy. But…” He paused, swirling his fork against his plate. “I guess I wouldn’t mind somethin’ more down the road.”

“More?” Aspen tilted her head, intrigued.

Harry glanced at her, a small smirk playing at his lips. “What? You think I wanna be slingin’ ink forever?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You’re really good at it.”

His chest swelled slightly at the compliment, but he only shrugged. “Yeah, but sometimes… I think about what it’d be like to settle down a bit.”

That made Aspen pause, her fork hovering mid-air. “Settle down?”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fade, but there was something softer in his eyes now. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Someday.”

Aspen lowered her gaze, heat crawling up her neck. The thought of Harry—this inked-up, reckless, sometimes smug but always caring man—talking about settling down was almost impossible to picture. But at the same time… it wasn’t.

“What about you?” Harry’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

She blinked up at him, then quickly shook her head. “I—I don’t know,” she murmured. “I never really thought about it.”

Harry hummed, studying her carefully before offering her a teasing grin. “Guess I’ll have to change that, then.”

Aspen’s heart stuttered in her chest, and before she could even process his words, Niall groaned dramatically.

“Christ, you two are disgustingly cute. Can we eat in peace without watchin’ you make heart eyes at each other?”

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous.”

Niall scoffed. “Jealous my ass. I like my peace. Not my fault these two make it impossible.”

Zayn smirked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Speaking of impossible,” he started, glancing over at Niall with a knowing glint in his eye. “Didn’t you go on that date the other week? The one with that girl you wouldn’t shut up about?”

Aspen perked up immediately, turning her attention to Niall, who suddenly looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. She had never heard anything about Niall dating, and now she was curious.

“Oh?” Aspen tilted her head, eyes bright with interest. “Who’s this mystery girl?”

Niall groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Why do you always have to bring shit up, man?” he grumbled at Zayn before exhaling dramatically. “It was just a date. Nothin’ serious.”

“That’s not what you were saying last week,” Zayn shot back smugly.

Aspen turned fully in her chair, leaning in closer with excitement. “Come on, tell me! I need details.”

Harry snorted beside her, clearly enjoying Niall’s misery as he took another bite of his food.

Niall gave them all an exasperated look before slumping back in his seat. “Her name’s Elena. Met her at a café—well, more like she bumped into me and spilled coffee all over my jeans.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “She was all flustered and apologetic, tryin’ to clean me up, and I was just standin’ there like an idiot. But we got talkin’, and I don’t know… she was easy to talk to.”

Aspen smiled at the way his voice softened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to sound so fond but couldn’t help it. “That sounds cute,” she mused. “So? How was the date?”

Niall shrugged. “It was good. Took her to dinner, talked a lot. She’s studying psychology, so she’s always analyzin’ people. Pretty sure she was psychoanalyzin’ me the whole time.”

Zayn chuckled. “That’s probably not hard.”

Niall shot him a look before continuing. “Anyway, she’s nice. Sweet. Smart as hell. But I dunno, she’s busy with school, and I’m always at the shop. We haven’t really talked much since.”

Aspen frowned slightly, sensing that there was more to it than just being busy. “Do you like her?”

Niall hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah, I guess.”

Zayn scoffed. “You more than ‘guess.’ You texted her three days straight after the date.”

Aspen gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, Niall!”

Niall groaned again, dropping his head against the table. “I hate you all.”

Harry, who had been relatively quiet, finally smirked and chimed in. “So, what’s stoppin’ you? If you like her, ask her out again.”

Niall lifted his head just enough to glare at him. “You make it sound so easy.”

Aspen tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully before an idea struck her. “Wait! What if I helped?”

Niall narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

“Well,” Aspen began, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “you said she’s in psychology, right? I actually have a class with her. We’re not super close or anything, but I could… I don’t know, maybe put in a good word for you?”

Zayn barked out a laugh. “Oh, this is gold.”

Niall groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time, dragging his hands down his face. “Jesus. This is humiliatin’.”

“It’s not humiliating!” Aspen argued. “Think of it as… giving you a little push in the right direction.”

Harry chuckled beside her, shaking his head. “That’s dangerous, mate. Aspen’s got a way of getting what she wants.”

Aspen elbowed him playfully but turned back to Niall with an encouraging smile. “I’ll be subtle, I promise. Just casual, ‘Oh, Niall’s such a great guy’ kind of stuff.”

Niall sighed dramatically. “If this backfires, I’m blamin’ you.”

Aspen grinned. “Deal.”

Zayn smirked. “This is the most entertaining lunch I’ve had in weeks.”

As they continued eating, the conversation naturally flowed into playful teasing and joking, but Aspen made a mental note to follow through on her promise. If there was a chance she could help Niall get the push he needed, she’d gladly take it.

Aspen, still burning from Harry’s words, buried her face in her hands. Harry only grinned wider, reaching over to steal another bite from Niall’s plate, completely unbothered.

As the conversation carried on, Aspen couldn’t help but steal glances at Harry—at the way he fit so easily into the dynamic, at the way he teased and laughed and looked at her like she was something he wanted to keep close.

And for a little while, Harry let himself sink into it.

No stress, no secrets.

Just this. Her.

He’d hold onto it for as long as he could.

Harry sat back in his chair, absently twirling his fork between his fingers as conversation carried on around him. The food was good—great, actually, because Aspen had made it—but if he was being honest, he wasn’t fully present. His mind kept slipping, getting caught up in memories that were much more intoxicating than anything else in the room.

He’d been doing his best to keep himself engaged, nodding along when Niall teased Zayn about something, adding in a comment here and there, but all it took was one glance at Aspen, one moment of catching the soft curve of her lips as she smiled, or the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and he was gone again.

His grip tightened slightly on his fork as his mind drifted back to that night in his office. He could still feel her, taste her, the phantom sensation of her lips and tongue making his stomach coil with heat. The way she had looked at him—wide-eyed, eager, completely wrapped up in him—had nearly ruined him. He’d had plenty of hookups before, but none of them stuck in his head like this, none of them made him crave more than just the physical. But Aspen? She was burned into his mind, into his fucking soul.

And the bathroom. Christ.

He swallowed hard, taking a sip of his drink to keep himself grounded, but it didn’t help much. He could still see the way she’d knelt for him, how shy she had been but how determined, how she’d hesitated but only for a moment before she found her rhythm. The contrast between her softness and the way she had wrecked him had his head spinning even now. He’d never been so completely fucking whipped for someone, never felt this all-consuming urge to take and give all at once. The way she’d looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers barely able to wrap around him, her lips stretched as far as they could go—it had been enough to make him lose all control.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself subtly as he forced himself to refocus. He had to get a grip. It wouldn’t do him any favors to sit there getting lost in his own head while they were all supposed to be enjoying a meal. He glanced over at Aspen, catching the way she was laughing at something Niall said, completely unaware of the way she had him tied in knots.

She had no idea what she did to him.

Harry exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before speaking up, his voice deliberately casual. “Hey, babe,” he said, shifting his attention to Aspen. “Think you could help me move a few things around in my office?”

Aspen blinked, surprised by the sudden request. “Oh,” she said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, of course.”

Harry smirked, pleased with her easy agreement. Truthfully, there wasn’t much that needed moving, but with Niall and Zayn getting caught up with clients, he had a perfect excuse to steal her away for a few moments. He needed a break, and more than that, he wanted to be alone with her—just her.

“Tryin’ to get her alone, are we?” Niall teased, wiggling his brows as he stood from the table to grab his supplies.

Zayn chuckled, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Smooth, mate.”

Harry rolled his eyes, standing as well before placing a firm hand at Aspen’s lower back, guiding her toward the hall leading to his office. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he muttered, though the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

Aspen followed quietly, her heart picking up its pace just from the warmth of his palm against her. There was something about the way he touched her—casual yet possessive, like he was always reminding her that she was his. She tried not to overthink it, but the way her stomach fluttered made it impossible.

The moment they stepped into his office, Harry shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a second as he took her in. She looked soft under the dim lighting, her features gentle but curious, and for a split second, he forgot why he even made up the excuse in the first place.

“So… what are we moving?” Aspen asked, glancing around the office.

Harry tilted his head slightly, dragging his lip ring between his teeth as he considered her. Then, with a slow grin, he shrugged. “Dunno,” he admitted. “Might’ve just wanted to get you alone.”

Aspen’s cheeks flushed instantly. “Harry,” she scolded, but there was no real bite to it.

“What?” He smirked, stepping closer, his hands finding her hips with ease. “Can’t a man want some time with his girl?”

Aspen’s breath hitched, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest to create the smallest bit of distance, but Harry only squeezed her hips gently, pulling her in just enough to make her heart race.

“You—” She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “You could’ve just said that instead of pretending you needed help moving things.”

Harry hummed, dipping his head to brush his nose against hers. “Mm. Could’ve,” he mused. “But this way was more fun.”

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her resolve slipping just from the heat of his proximity. He had this effect on her—one look, one touch, and she was undone.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she murmured.

Harry grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “Good,” he said simply. “Because you do the same to me.”

Aspen barely had a second to process his words before Harry closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, fingers pressing firmly against the fabric of her top as he pulled her even closer. She melted into him instantly, her own hands slipping up to cup his face, thumbs grazing along his jawline as she sighed softly against his lips.

It started slow, sweet, like they had all the time in the world to explore each other. Harry kissed her with an intensity that sent warmth spilling through her veins, his lips moving over hers with a tenderness that contradicted the way his fingers flexed against her waist. It had been a long day, a long week, and this was what they needed—just the two of them, no distractions, no rushed moments stolen between the chaos of their lives.

But as much as Harry wanted to savor this, his self-control started slipping the second Aspen let out the softest whimper against his mouth. His grip tightened, his lips parting to deepen the kiss, tongue swiping against hers in a way that had her knees weakening beneath her. Aspen clung to him, her fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as she let herself drown in him.

Harry groaned softly, one hand leaving her waist to tangle in her hair, angling her head just how he wanted as he took his time tasting her. The soft scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body pressed against his—it was overwhelming in the best way. He could stay like this forever, but then Aspen pressed just a bit closer, her body molding against his like she was meant to be there, and Harry nearly lost it.

His lips moved from hers, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down to the soft skin of her neck. Aspen gasped, tilting her head to give him more access as his teeth scraped lightly against her pulse point. He smiled against her skin when he felt her shiver, his other hand gripping her waist even tighter.

“Harry,” she whispered, voice breathy, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

It took everything in him to pull back, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, his grip on her tightening before he forced himself to let go completely.

Aspen blinked up at him, lips swollen and eyes dazed. “Why’d you stop?” she asked softly, her voice laced with curiosity and the faintest hint of disappointment.

Harry chuckled, his hands finding her hips once more as he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her mouth, “if I keep going, I’m gonna start something I can’t finish.”

Aspen’s face turned a deep shade of red at his words, and she quickly dropped her gaze. “Oh,” she squeaked out in a breath, suddenly very interested in the buttons on his shirt.

Harry grinned, loving the way she got all shy on him. “Cute,” he mused, nudging her chin up with his fingers so she’d look at him again. “C’mon, little mouse. Have a seat.”

Aspen obeyed, settling onto the small sofa against the wall, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she tried to recover from the heat still lingering in her veins.

Harry grabbed his sketchbook from the desk before sitting beside her, his arm draped along the back of the couch as he flipped to a fresh page. “I needed a break anyway,” he murmured, tapping his pencil against the paper.

Aspen peeked at him, still feeling a little breathless. “What are you gonna draw?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

Harry smirked, eyes flicking to hers before looking back at the blank page. “Dunno yet,” he admitted. “Maybe you.”

Aspen’s heart skipped at that, but she only tilted her head slightly, a confused smile pulling at her lips. “What do you mean?” she asked softly.

Harry stilled for a moment, debating whether he should keep it to himself or let her in on the little secret he had been holding onto for months. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips as he exhaled, deciding that maybe it was time.

Instead of answering right away, he flipped through his sketchbook, fingers dragging over the edges of the pages as he searched for something specific. Aspen watched curiously, her brows knitting together when she noticed how careful he was being, almost hesitant.

And then he turned the book toward her.

Aspen blinked. Her lips parted slightly as her gaze landed on the first drawing—a sketch of her, sitting beneath a tree, completely lost in her book. The details were so precise, so tenderly drawn, she could almost feel the sunlight filtering through the leaves above her, just like it had been that day during their camping trip.

Her throat tightened. “Is this…?”

“The first time I sketched you,” Harry finished for her, voice softer than usual. “Back at the campsite.”

Aspen reached out, her fingers barely grazing the page as she stared at it, taking in every detail. “You… you drew this back then?” Her voice was breathy, almost disbelieving.

Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. You just… I dunno, you looked so peaceful sitting there. I couldn’t help it.”

Aspen’s chest ached in the best way possible. She turned the page, revealing another sketch of her—this one of her standing by Zayn’s car, arms crossed, deep in thought. And then another of her sitting at the tattoo shop, nose buried in a book, oblivious to everything around her. There were so many.

Page after page, she found herself staring at different versions of herself through Harry’s eyes. Some were quick, rough sketches, as if he had drawn them in a hurry before the image slipped from his mind. Others were detailed, shaded with such care that they looked almost lifelike.

She swallowed thickly, emotions swelling in her chest as she reached another drawing—one that looked fresher, the graphite still bold and untouched by time. It was her, curled up on the couch, wearing the oversized hoodie she had stolen from Harry the other night.

“I drew that one a couple nights ago,” Harry admitted, watching her reaction closely. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Aspen’s fingers trembled slightly as she turned to face him. “You never told me,” she whispered.

Harry held her gaze, his usual cocky demeanor slipping into something more vulnerable. “Didn’t think I needed to,” he murmured. “You’re just… always on my mind, I guess.”

Aspen’s heart stuttered in her chest. The weight of his words settled deep in her bones, making it hard to breathe for a moment. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she reached out and laced her fingers through his, squeezing his hand in silent understanding.

Harry let out a breath and flipped to the back of the sketchbook. “That’s not the only thing I’ve been working on,” he admitted, flipping past a few blank pages before stopping at something else entirely.

Aspen frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as she realized it wasn’t another sketch—it was handwriting. Lyrics.

She tilted her head, reading the words on the page.

"Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong… but we’re still young, we don’t know where we’re going, but we know where we belong…”

Aspen’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Harry… this is—”

Harry cut her off with a nervous chuckle, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, I’ve been dabbling with the guitar,” he admitted. “Words just kinda… flow sometimes.”

Aspen traced the title with her fingertips, her heart swelling at the sight of it. Sweet Creature.

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Harry smirked, but there was a softness behind it. “Who else would it be about?”

Aspen bit her lip, a deep warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted to ask him to play it for her, but something about the way he was looking at her—like he wasn’t quite ready to share it completely—made her hold back.

Instead, she turned the page, revealing another song title scribbled onto the next sheet.

"Meet Me in the Hallway."

Aspen’s brows knitted together as she read through the lyrics, the weight of the words pressing down on her chest. There was something haunting about them, something aching, as if each line bled with regret. The melody was absent, but she could feel it in the rhythm of the syllables, in the spaces between the words where silence spoke just as loudly.

Her fingers traced over the ink, eyes scanning over the phrase again and again.

"Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out..."

She swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. “This one feels…” she trailed off, trying to pinpoint the exact emotion clawing at her chest.

Harry, who had been watching her reaction closely, answered before she could. His voice was quiet, low. “Guilty?”

Aspen’s head snapped up, and when their eyes met, she understood immediately. This wasn’t just a song. It was them.

It was all the nights she had spent wondering what she had done wrong, why he had looked at her like she was both too much and not enough all at once. It was every moment he had pushed her away despite the way his body betrayed him, lingering too close, brushing against her like he couldn't help himself.

It was the space he had put between them, and the silence that had suffocated her when she hadn't understood why.

Aspen’s chest tightened, her fingers curling around the edge of the sketchbook. She had never asked him about those days, about why he had acted the way he had. Some part of her had been too afraid of the answer.

And yet, here it was—laid bare in ink and paper, more honest than he had ever been aloud.

“Harry…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose as he ran a hand through his curls. “I know,” he murmured, his eyes flickering away for a second before coming back to her. “I fucked up back then.”

Aspen sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Harry cut in, firmer this time. His jaw tensed, his fingers gripping the fabric of his jeans. “I need to. Because I know how I treated you before, and I don’t ever want you t'think for a second that it was because of you.”

Aspen’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She searched his face, her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She had spent so long convincing herself that she had imagined the tension, that she had misread the way his eyes had lingered on her, the way he had always seemed to fight against something when he was near her.

And now, hearing him say it outright, the confirmation was almost too much.

“I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted, her voice soft, reassuring. “Not now.”

Harry let out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping as if he had been holding onto something heavy for too long. His fingers inched toward hers, hesitant at first, until Aspen reached for him on her own, closing the distance.

His skin was warm, rough at the fingertips, and yet he held her hand with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

Aspen studied him for a long moment, taking in the little signs of his discomfort—the way his knee bounced slightly, the way his thumb rubbed absentmindedly over her knuckles, as if grounding himself. She could see the vulnerability in his face, the unspoken weight behind his words.

Slowly, a small smile pulled at her lips. “I think it’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Both of them.”

Harry’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, searching for any trace of dishonesty. “Yeah?”

Aspen nodded. “Yeah.”

For a second, he just stared at her, and then something in him seemed to settle. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, and a small, genuine smile spread across his lips.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t plan on showing you these t'day,” he admitted, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his tone.

Aspen squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with something deep and warm. “I’m glad you did.”

They sat there, fingers intertwined, the sketchbook still resting between them like a silent bridge to all the things they had never said. And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt the need to fill the silence.

Because for once, it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t suffocating.

It was simply them.

A quiet stillness settled between them, warm and familiar, as Aspen gently traced the edges of the sketchbook with her fingertips. The weight of everything they had just shared lingered in the air, unspoken yet understood. Harry, still holding her hand, let his thumb lazily graze over her knuckles, grounding himself in the moment. He wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of her learning about his songs, or if it was simply the way she looked at him—like he was something good, something worth knowing—but a sense of peace washed over him.

Without thinking, he shifted closer, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. Aspen let out a quiet breath of surprise but didn’t resist, instinctively tucking herself against him. Her cheek pressed softly against his shoulder, and Harry relished the feeling of her fitting so perfectly against him.

For a moment, they sat like that, just breathing in each other’s presence.

Then, Harry tilted his head down, brushing his lips against her temple. It was slow, lingering, like he wanted to imprint himself into her skin. “Didn’t know how much I needed this,” he murmured, voice low and thick with something tender.

Aspen smiled, her fingers finding the hem of his sleeve and lightly toying with the fabric. “Needed what?” she asked softly.

Harry pressed another kiss against her hair, his lips barely leaving her skin as he whispered, “You. Just you, sugar.”

Aspen felt her chest tighten in the best way, a warmth spreading through her limbs at his words. She turned slightly in his hold, looking up at him with those soft, doe-like eyes of hers. The affection in them made something deep in his chest clench, a feeling so strong it nearly stole his breath.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, lazy kiss. It wasn’t rushed or filled with desperation—it was something deeper, something sweeter. His lips moved against hers with a careful kind of reverence, as if every kiss was meant to tell her all the things he struggled to put into words.

Aspen sighed against his mouth, her hand sliding up to rest against his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt. She felt his heartbeat beneath her palm—steady, strong, real.

Harry couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. “God, you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered between kisses, voice hushed like he was speaking a secret only for her.

Aspen’s cheeks warmed, and she buried her face against his neck, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. “You always say that.”

Harry chuckled, nuzzling against her. “’Cause it’s true.”

She hummed in response, her fingers drawing small patterns against his chest. The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t awkward or uncertain. It was filled with the quiet kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

But then Harry, feeling the way she melted into him, feeling the way her presence made everything better, suddenly had the overwhelming urge to say it out loud.

The words formed on his tongue before he could second-guess himself.

“I love you.”

Aspen stiffened slightly against him, her breath catching.

Harry felt his heart stutter, a rare flicker of nervousness crawling up his spine. He hadn’t planned on saying it—not yet, not now—but the moment had felt too right to hold it back. And now, waiting for her response, he felt completely, utterly exposed.

Aspen slowly pulled back just enough to look up at him, her wide eyes searching his face as if trying to determine if she had heard him correctly.

Harry held her gaze, unwavering. He didn’t regret saying it. Harry was more so nervous if he had said it too soon, or if it was too much right now.

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her throat working as she swallowed. She looked so soft—so pure in the way she was taking in his words, like she wanted to tuck them away somewhere safe.

Then, almost shyly, she ducked her head, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that made Harry’s chest tighten. Her fingers played with the hem of his sleeve again, fidgeting. And then, in the quietest, sweetest voice, she whispered, “I love you too.”

Harry swore his heart stopped for a second.

A slow, breathy chuckle left his lips, pure relief flooding through him. “Yeah?” he murmured, tipping her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him again.

Aspen nodded, still impossibly shy, but her eyes held no hesitation. “Yeah.”

Harry felt something shift inside him, something settle. He leaned down, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips, his grip around her tightening like he never wanted to let go.

“Sweetest thing,” he whispered against her mouth.

Aspen smiled against his lips, and when they pulled away, she nestled back into his side, her fingers tracing absentminded shapes against his arm.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, hearts steady and full.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

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