#I am exploding over these moments that we were given

[shesailsships]

Lockwood & Co

You're safe now, okay?

We've got you now.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[eyesxxyou]

First Time 💋

🩸・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.5k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, explicit consent, blood, taking of virginity, a bit of toxic relationship dynamics, logan is not a good person, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

You were dealing with the devil in disguise and you didn't even know it. For even the devil was once an angel, the most beautiful angel in heaven. That’s the way he tempts even the purest souls into damnation. And you were his latest victim.

Your purity was hanging by the thinnest thread called “virginity” which you were steadfast in not giving up. Logan wasn't pushing it by any means. Slowly but surely, you were giving up pieces of yourself to him. Giving away slices of your precious soul until before even you knew it, you had given him your entire cake. In fact, he had taught you how to give a blow job, confined you to let him hump against your clothed pussy, then eventually against the bare thing.

Logan was growing ever closer to obtaining you, possessing you wholly.

You had already gone home for the night when there was a steady, polite knock at his door. Logan, with a cigar hanging from between his lips, initially thought it was you. That was how you knocked, with a small rhythm and a tender politeness.

But much to his dismay, when he opened the door, Logan found that it was not you, but your father standing before him, still dressed in his Sunday best.

Now, for a moment, Logan thought that this was it. You had either been caught or in some sort of religious guilt, you had confessed everything. Either way, he was sure he had been busted and your father had come to wreak havoc upon him. Either way, he wasn't scared. At the end of the day you were two grown people who had made their decisions. 

“Mr. Howlett, nice to see you again.” Your father smiled. There was no malice or ill intent. You were both in the clear. Logan took his cigar from his mouth and put it out in the ashtray beside the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing your night.” He could see where you got your politeness from. Your father was a good, mild-mannered man. Average on all accounts. But he made a spectacular girl of you.

“Not at all, Reverend.”

Your father, with his hands crossed nicely at his front, was smiling politely. Logan wondered if he knew you had just been here. He wondered if he knew that he had his daughter on her knees with his dick in her mouth. Did he know that he came on your face? Did he know that your mouth felt like heaven?

“I was wondering if you could come by my house tomorrow. Unfortunately we have a bit of an issue with the pipes in our kitchen. I wanted to know if you could take a look.” It was innocent enough but the idea of being in your house made Logan almost swell and explode. He tried to hide the smile, the enthusiasm behind his “sure, I can take a look”.

“Great, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Howlett.” Logan can almost hear your voice in his. Small, quaint, unassuming. “You can come over in the morning. My family and I will be out but we'll leave the door unlocked so you can get in.”

Logan closed the door as your father walked off his porch, already looking forward to tomorrow morning. He thought of how he’d make his way through your house, into your room. He imagined going into your drawers and taking a pair of your pretty little panties to keep for himself. He imagined getting in your bed and jerking off until he came, right on your pillow.

He was up bright and early the next morning. With a small handle of whiskey to wake him up, Logan was out the door by 10 am with his toolbag in hand, a cigar hidden away so he could smoke out the back when he needed to take a break.

Your house was far different than his, bigger, painted a light blue with pastel yellow shudders and a white trim. It was the picture perfect house containing a picture perfect family. What a terrible person he must be to infiltrate such a home.

Your Father said the door would be unlocked. Your family car wasn't in the driveway, you all must have left already. Logan, with laborious steps, made his way up your porch, white wood, a few rocking chairs and a table where you must have put out lemonade and watched the sun go down.

He welcomed himself inside. Your house smelled like wilting roses and antiques. There were crosses everywhere, Bible verses on boards and Rae Dunn as far as the eye could see. Standard, religious, suburban home. He saw nothing out of place from your old brown couch to your wallpaper, pretty and bright.

Logan considered if he should work on your faulty pipes first or take his sick pleasure in your room. After a moment, he adjusted his grip on his toolbag and made his way through your living room and into your kitchen. He’d wait until he got the job done, then take his sweet time in your room. He’d make it a reward.

As it turns out, it was quite simple. You had the wrong piece for the pipe under your kitchen sink and it was connected incorrectly. Logan was halfway beneath your sink when he heard bare feet padding about the hardwood in the living room. He came out, a large hand on the counter to help himself up. His bones weren't what they used to be.

You had come rounding the corner into the tiled kitchen, dressed in nothing but a pretty, little, pale, pink nightgown that stopped at your mid-thigh. You paused at the sight of him, eyes wide and startled like a deer in headlights. “Mr. Howlett?” Sweet little thing, your arms went to cross over your chest, obviously not covered by a bra as he could see the peaks of your nipples poking against the fabric.

Stumbling back a bit, you swallowed. “What are you– my dad said you wouldn't be here until later when he came back.” You watched with your fawn eyes as he stood with a grunt in his white tank top, rough, blue jeans, and steel-toed boots. You were vulnerable, fully and entirely. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Naked under your nightgown besides just a pair of tiny panties.

“Wanted to get this out of the way. Didn't think you’d be here, doll.” Logan took a step towards you and you didn't dare take one back. Your gaze flickered to the side. “I was gonna go but I wasn't feeling well.” You’re all soft and meek and sweet. As if to prove your point, you let out a little cough. He could just devour you.

Logan looked back at his work. “Well– I figured out what's wrong. Should be a simple fix once I get the right part for it.” He looked back to you, eyes all soft. “I'm free for the rest of the day, babydoll.” You know what he was trying to get at. You were home alone, practically naked, the idea wasn't so far beyond you anymore.

You bit your lip. “You want to see my bedroom? I just redid it.” 

A smile twitched at Logan's lip. “Yeah, doll. Show me your bedroom.” You reached out and took his hand in yours, large and calloused. You guided him with your padded feet, occasionally looking back at him as if he’d disappear from behind you. If you were Orpheus, he’d already be gone by now.

You took him up the stairs and around the banister into your room done up in white, floral wallpaper. Your bed was neatly made with a single giant stuffed bear sitting against the pillows. It was obviously old and well-loved. Your room was just like you, soft and quaint.

Letting go of his hand, you went and you sat on the edge of your bed while Logan took his time examining this space you call yours. “It’s nice, really. Pretty, like you.” He stood in the center of your room, looking at you. You were fiddling your fingers in your lap, looking anywhere but him. You were thinking, thinking hard. Your lips twitched.

“What are you thinking about, dollface?” Logan made his way to you and grasped your chin in his fingers. He made you look at him with your doll eyes and your doll lips which you pursed softly. Silently, you stood from the edge of your bed, pressed between it and Logan's solid body. With your hands against his chest, you got up on your toes to reach his face and carefully pressed your lips to his in a tender kiss.

Your hands caressed his face softly, his beard prickly under your fingertips. You were still awkward and timid while kissing, but you were getting better at it. Still on your toes, you broke away from the kiss and wrapped your arms around Logan's neck. “I think I'm ready,” you whispered, voice quivering.

A better man would have asked, “are you sure?” A good man would have told you to wait until you were absolutely sure or even, to stick to your morals and wait until marriage. But Logan was not a good man and all he wanted was you, your entirety, resting in his palms like a baby bunny.

Logan dipped down and kissed you harder than before, with a feverish desire to take your soul straight from your body. His hands slid under your little nightgown, palms against your flesh, groping at you. Your breasts, your ass, the plush of your hips. You whimpered at how rough he was with you and Logan swallowed every squeak.

“Please…be gentle.” You pleaded with him. Your body shuddered as you felt the rumble of Logan's chest. He chuckled lowly.

“Oh, doll– I’m not known for being a gentle man.” There was something a bit feral in his throat as he spoke. “Come on, let's get this off of you.” He tugged at the hem of your nightgown, up and over your head, leaving you partially naked. Your hand immediately shot to your chest, shivering like a scared puppy.

Logan grabbed your wrist, despite his words, he was trying his best to be gentle with you. He didn't want to break you. What was the good in breaking something he wanted to possess? No, no, he didn't want to break you. Logan wanted you to be so thoroughly his that you'd never question him, your loyalty to him was what he wanted.

He took your hands from your breasts to get a good view of them. They were perfectly sized, soft looking. Your whole body was tender and sweet, with plush flesh and sweet curves all where they ought to be. Logan salivated like a pavlovian dog. He kissed you and palmed at your little, cotton panties, tucking his thumbs in and tugging them down.

You whined. “S-slow down.” Pleading as he removed them from you and carefully pushed you onto your bed. You felt too vulnerable nude before him. But Logan was already on his knees, between your legs, kissing and licking down your trembling thighs. “What are you doing?”

He put his mouth against your little love and you let out a sharp yelp. “Wait!” You never thought someone would put their mouth down there. It felt dirty. It felt good too. He pushed his tongue past your wet lips and licked your pussy before sloppily making out with your cunt.

Logan was a messy eater. All tongue and lips, licking and suckling against your most sensitive parts. His large, rough hands gripped at your thighs to keep them parted and pressed to your chest.

You never had your pussy ate and it was easy to tell. You were so sensitive to every touch of his tongue. Every flick against your swollen clit made your entire body shudder and a sweet mewling squeal left your lips. Your back arched from the bed, your toes curled into the air over your head. “Mr. Howlett!” You let out in a long, drawn out moan, your hand in his hair, tugging.

You tasted like heaven. Like he could find the meaning of life between your legs. He drooled all over your cunt like it was the most delectable thing he's ever had the honor of tasting, slurping and panting between rough licks. Logan felt that he could easily become addicted to this if he allowed himself to, the sweetness of you, the way you quivered.

But Logan didn't want you cumming just yet. He needed you to be on his dick first. He offered a few more desperate licks to your pussy before kissing your clit and bringing himself up to stand between your legs. His large, bear-like hands worked at the buckle of his belt. “You know when your parents will be home?”

You shook your head slowly, lips rolled.

“Then we’ll have to be quick.” It wouldn't be the ideal for a girl’s first time but if you wanted “ideal” you shouldn't have chosen someone like him to give up your virginity to.

You watched him pull his cock from his pants, half hard and almost beautiful as he pumped it in his hand. He was large, larger than anything you’ve ever taken before. You could hardly handle two of his fingers before crying. How could you possibly take a thing like that inside you and still remain composed? You were terrified out of your mind and as Logan pulled you by the hip towards the edge of the bed, you were starting to reconsider.

“What if it doesn't fit?”

Logan glanced at you. “I’ll make it fit.” He should tell you that it’s going to hurt at first, that there might be blood from your hymen breaking, but he didn't want you to back out. So he stayed silent, stroking himself to complete hardness until it could stand straight on its own. “Open your legs, doll.”

You hesitated but you were never one to disobey. Trembling, already on the brink of tears from the mere fear of pain, you spread your legs apart just enough for Logan to slot in between them and hold your hips. He looked at you and thought it best to reassure you. “Don't freak out. It’ll only hurt for a minute. I’ll be right here.” It was all vapid. He just wanted your virginity, your sweet, little cunny. He wanted to wear your purity around like a trophy.

Logan was not a good man. You should have known this.

He spat on your cunt, let the saliva dribble from his lips and land on your clit where it traveled its way down to your entrance. Logan played with it with the tip of his length, spreading it all across the rose between your legs. You whimpered like a puppy, writhing at the hips as he slapped his cock against your love and teased at all the possibilities of entering you.

He was right. It did hurt when he started easing his way into you. His cock, long and thick, stretched you out to a point you had never gone to before. You almost screamed or maybe you did. Tears swelled in your eyes as you squirmed against his hold. “It hurts!”

“I know. Just hold on.” He pushed his hips to yours and settled there for a moment. You were too tense. It would only hurt more if he continued before you adjusted. “Relax for me. It’ll only keep hurting if you don't calm down.” You were gasping, sobbing. “I– I can't!”

“Yeah, you can. Just breathe. Stop crying, doll.” Logan rubbed your hip with his hand and cooed at you. He rolled his hips against yours, coaxing you into whining. You let out a deep, panting breath, fingers gripping at the sheets of your bed. You reached out and grabbed your teddy bear to hold for comfort.

You pressed your face into the side of the bear’s head and nodded. “Go slow, please.” Your eyes glistened as you looked at him, cheeks still wet with tears. Your fingers grip into your teddy as Logan grunts lowly. “Sure thing, babydoll.” He grabs your thighs like you grip that stuffed animal, for dear life. You’re so fucking tight, gripping him like a fucking vice as he pulls his hips back.

There's a bit of blood on his cock. He ruptured your hymen with just one thrust. Logan pressed your legs to your chest as he fucked you, starting slow as you requested. He reveled in every desperate cry that clawed at your lips, every pined whimper that fell away into pleasure. Your toes pointed then curled, pointed, curled.

The pain didn't last too long, the blood still wet on his cock as you mewled. You looked quite cute holding your bear, your knees beside your ears, and you can't spread out around his slick length. Logan almost growled with each rut into your soft, silky pussy clinging to him.

It took everything in him not to brutalize you. Not to show you exactly what intentions he had with you. You were nothing serious, but you were his and his alone. He was not the type to marry but if it meant diving into a cunt like this every night, he just might put a ring on your finger to keep you satisfied and placid.

You were so dizzy with dick you might as well have fallen in love with Logan. Maybe you were in love with him. You were certain you were. You would have never given up your virginity to him if you hadn't believed that maybe, just maybe this might go somewhere.

Your father might let you marry him. He’s far older than you but Logan has a good reputation. He might not be a church man, but most accept him within the community. If you pleaded enough, if you told him Logan stole your virginity, he’d demand you two get married to save the family's reputation.

You let out a steady “ah, ah, ah” and “ohhhh!” with each thrust that takes the wind out of you. Logan likes the noises you make, how surprised they sound. You know nothing of this, of his evil, of his hellish ways. “Keep moaning like that. You're gonna make me cum, babydoll.” His hand slithered between your legs, thumb finding your clit toy with.

You squeaked, squealing. “No, no, no! I gonna–” you could hardly get it out before it happened, a great fountain of clear liquid coming from you and landing all over Logan's front. You always found your squirting embarrassing. You were mortified that you had got it all over Logan, still mostly clothed. Some of it even got on his face.

He bared his teeth, licking his lips like some starved animal. You were hazy-eyed and shaking with an orgasm so intense, you might as well have died and come back to life. “Logan– Logan, please.” You huffed, breathless and tired and begging him for something, anything, everything.

“Please what, doll?” Logan was rather amused by the way you writhed beneath him, holding your teddy so tight he thought you might rip it apart. He was so close to cumming, you made it impossible not to do it fast.

You shook your head with a great sob, tossing an arm over your face. “Please…don't cum in me! My dad will kill me if I get pregnant.” You couldn't handle the thought of disappointing your parents. They’d disown you, they’d…they’d…you didn't know what they'd do.

You sniffled as Logan chuckled at your request. “And what if I did, huh? What if I came deep inside you and put a baby in you, then what?” He liked how hard you sobbed, how you cried and moaned at the same time. Despair and pleasure all wrapped into one neat, little bow.

“Please, don’t.”

Logan groaned lowly, faltering with his thrust as his hips shuddered and his cock pulsed in the sweet tightness of your cunt. Just at the last second, he pulled out and came all over your pelvis and lower abdomen, shooting out great, white ribbons across your supple flesh. He didn't want to get you pregnant. He was a bad man, but he was no baby-trapper.

There was silence between the two of you. Your first time was not anything quite special but it was with someone you wanted to have it with so at least that was something. You felt…disgusting. Like a whore, like you dishonored your family.

Logan could see it. He could see the way you slowly dwindled into self-doubt and self-hatred. He took your hand in his and pulled you up into a sitting position. “Gimme some sugar, baby.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, holding your jaw in his hand, stroking your face. With a single kiss, your worries melted away into nothing, a void mind filled with only thoughts of a perfect life with Logan.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, your parents will be home any moment now.”

A perfect life not meant for you. Logan would never commit. He wasn't capable of it. He might want something nice and simple like a wife and a family, but he knew he’d never be satisfied with it.

Logan Howlett was not a good man. And poor you for falling in love with him.

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Roses

2: The Capitol Zoo (masterlist for series)

summary: With the Games getting closer, Coriolanus must get his tribute to trust him. But, who knew that the Capitol Zoo would give your relationship with him issues.

pairing: young!Coriolnaus Snow x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, coriolanus being manipulative, coriolanus hurts reader (on accident), death, mentions of death, mentions of blood, a little fluff, ANGST, grandma’am being protective, italics are flashbacks

word count: 5.2k+

a/n: this might be one of the longer pieces i’ve written in a while. this chapter is definitely a lot and it took so long to finish. things are starting to change within their relationship, and i will advise, it will go downhill from here.

Red. Rouge. The color could be and mean many things. It could be love, the color of the Academy uniform, or rage. It could be strength, revenge, or a shade of lipstick. But in this case, red meant jealousy.

You have always hated jealousy as a trait. It was never a pretty sight. In fact, you could only recount two times you were ever jealous in your life.

Once was two years ago, before you and Coriolanus were ever dating.

Funnily enough, you were jealous of Clemensia.

Dean Highbottom announced another research project that was worth 40% of your semester grade. Typically, you and Coriolanus were paired up together for assignments like these. However, you were given random pairings. You were happy when Highbottom pulled out your name and Sejanus’. It had been a while since you two worked together. Yet, when the next two names pulled out were Coriolanus and Clemensia, you felt an uneasy emotion stirring inside. One you have never felt before.

Everyone switched seats to be seated near their partners. Sadly, Sejanus sat far from you, causing you to gather your things to move. Within that same moment, Clemensia slid into the seat you once occupied, adding another strike to the emotion settling in you.

“Y/N,” Sejanus smiled at you, letting you take your seat. “I’m relieved I got to be partners with you.”

“You and me both.” You return the smile, slipping a clean sheet of paper out. “Shall we get started?”

As soon as you started to come up with ideas, your gaze drifted toward the opposite end of the room, watching Coriolanus and Clemensia work together. They seemed like they were having fun working with one another. Clemensia grabbed his forearm at a joke Coriolanus made, making your blood boil. You knew you shouldn't feel this way over your two best friends, but when it came to being millimeters away from your blond, it shook you.

“Are you… Okay?” Sejanus poked your shoulder, a concerned expression etched across his face. “Your pen looks like it’s going to explode with the way you’re gripping it.”

You look away from the sight right before Coryo looks over. “Sorry, I was… Distracted.”

“I bet.” He chuckles, earning a curious look from you.

“What do you mean?”

Sejanus tilts his head in your direction, making a subtle gesture to the blond. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.” You frown, scrawling nonsense on the paper. “I was merely looking at them.”

“With a scowl on your face.” The curly-haired male pointed out. You flush at the observation, rubbing your face. “I doubt anything will happen, you two are as thick as thieves.”

Your eyes return to Coriolanus after listening to Sejanus’ words, meeting his water colored eyes. You smile at him, earning one back before Clemensia stole his attention again. With a fading smile and the unfamiliar feeling settling in your stomach again, you focus on the work given.

When Dean Highbottom released your class, you bid a quick bye to Sejanus before heading to the courtyard. The weather was fairly nice, and all the other students were already filling the area. You make your way toward the willow tree planted by the courtyard’s corner. It was the same place you always were, reading a book. Usually Coriolanus was with you so you could read to him, but you assumed he would stay with Clemensia.

Opening the book to where you left off, your focus was solely on the book and trying to push the feeling away, not realizing Coriolanus was just a few feet away from you.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you.” He jogged the last few steps.

“I figured you were to hang out with Clemmie, since you’re suddenly all lovey-dovey with her.” You mutter out, not looking up.

“Excuse me?” He took a seat next to you, giving you an incredulous look. “I was not lovey-dovey with Clemensia.”

“Yes, you were.” You frown again, taking a quick glance at him. “You were the entire class.”

“Now why were you watching us instead of working on your project with Sejanus, beautiful?” Coriolanus took your chin with his thumb and pointer, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You have no right to call me that at the moment.” You push his hand away, shoving your book back into your bag. “Good bye.”

He studies your features for a bit, piecing the pieces together. “You’re jealous.”

“What?” You whip your head at him, using an accusation kind of tone. “I am not jealous of you and Clemensia.”

“You are jealous.” Coryo smirks in your direction as you furiously flush red. “That’s just confirmation.”

“I’m not jealous, Coriolanus.” You cross your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really are jealous.” He raises a brow when you say his full first name. “You just have to admit it.”

“I’m not jealous of you two. I’ve never been jealous in my entire life.” You stand, Coriolanus following. “So how can I possibly be jealous of you and your blossoming relationship with Clemensia—”

“Just say that you’re jealous.” He puts a hand behind your back as he guides you through the courtyard. “You’re jealous that she’s going to spend more time with me, and that I’ll replace you with her as my favorite person…”

“I’m your favorite person?” Your eyes slowly light up, trying your best not to show it.

“Only if you say you’re jealous.”

“Never.” You lift your chin a little higher. “I’m not jealous.”

“What a shame.” He leaves your side for a second, turning around to face you. “All you have to do is say you’re jealous or I’ll go find—”

“Fine.” You mumble, looking away. “I’m jealous.”

“What was that, beautiful? Couldn’t hear you.” Coryo got a bit closer, leaning toward you.

“I’m jealous.” You shut your eyes, earning an airy laugh from him.

Coriolanus pulled you into a small hug, pecking the top of your head. “Cute.”

The second time you were ever jealous was at this moment in time.

You were told by Tigris that Coryo went to talk to his tribute earlier this morning. What you did not expect was him being in the zoo cage with his tribute.

All you wanted was to have breakfast and leave, but your father made you watch the live casting.

You blankly stared at the host of the Hunger Games as you caught Coriolanus’ platinum blond in the background of the television.

“That’s right! All twenty-four of them— What in the gem of Panem? Is he..? That’s an Academy rouge, no?”

Multiple emotions gnawed on the inside of you. You were terrified that something was going to happen to him in the cage, but at the same time he was looking at her as if his life depended on it.

“Excuse me! Hello, sir! Yes, you, in the red. Who are you and why are you in there with them? We’re live.” Flickerman gestures to the camera as it focuses on Coriolanus.

You study your boyfriend’s face, realizing he was talking to Lucy Gray.

“Isn’t that something?” Your father remarked. “Now why would your boyfriend be in the cage along with the other tributes?”

The look on your face never leaves as Flickerman continues to ask questions concerning Coriolanus’ safety. After a few seconds, Coriolanus slips a flower behind the girl’s ear. It wasn’t just any flower. It was one of Grandma’am’s white roses.

He takes Lucy Gray’s hand and gets closer to the camera. They started to answer questions Flickerman was asking and that look Coryo was giving his tribute never left his face.

At this point, all you could see was red.

Coriolanus never gave you one of Grandma’am’s beautiful roses or looked at you like he was so ever in love to be near you. And what completely set you off was the way Lucy Gray leaned into your boyfriend’s figure, Coriolanus wrapping an arm around her waist.

You rolled your eyes at his gesture, standing from your seat on the couch. “Turn that off. It’ll only do damage to the household’s eyes.”

Your father raises his eyebrows at you, shutting the television off.

Taking your bag and fixing your Academy uniform, you leave the Lovett Manor.

You enter the car that was taking you to the Academy, muttering a good morning to the driver.

“Are you okay, Miss Lovett?”

“I’m fine.” You look out the window, slowly passing the trees decorating your driveway.

A beat passes.

“How can he do that?” You ask the driver, fiddling with your silver necklace.

“Do what?”

You huff, twisting the chain. “Be so close to a tribute.”

“He is smart, Miss Lovett. He might be strategizing with her to win the games. Isn’t your father’s deal still on despite the change for the Plinth prize?”

“I guess.” You mumble out a response, jealousy continuing to bubble as your thoughts keep going back to the pair. “I called his cousin to see if Coryo and I could walk together today, but she said he was talking to his tribute. I guess talking to your tribute involves holding your hand and tucking important roses behind their ear.”

The rest of the car trip was silent, only the sounds of passing cars filling the space.

Arriving at the Academy, you thanked the driver and headed into the building. You weren’t one for letting comments and looks get to you by others, but it seemed as if everyone was judging you today. There were whispers everywhere you turned and points in your direction, only provoking your current mood.

“Miss Lovett, if I can see you.” Dean Highbottom calls for you before you enter his class, making you curious.

“Yes, sir?” You clutch your bag a little tighter.

He sighs, “Did you somehow convince Mr Snow to talk to his tribute which caused him to be put into the zoo cage?”

“No. I haven’t talked to Coriolanus at all today.” Your face is as hard as stone, showing zero emotion. “Why? Is he in trouble?”

“Oh, most definitely, Miss Lovett.” He pauses, seeming as if he was going to add something else but refrained. “I would suggest you take your seat, classes are about to start.”

You enter the classroom, not questioning your professor any longer. Silently take your seat next to Sejanus, frowning at the empty seat to your left.

Time agonizingly passed on. Highbottom gave out a textbook assignment which, he said, would take the majority of the class. It would be until forty minutes later that Coriolanus showed up to class. By this time, you were annoyed at the fact he was late. He was never late. And being late to class for talking to a tribute just made the situation worse.

The doors slammed open as Coriolanus walked inside, taking a few seconds to look for your figure. You never dared to look up at his icy stare, doing your best to focus on the papers in front of you.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow.” Dean Highbottom did not bother to look up. “Which amongst them endangers Capitol students—”

“What, who?” Coriolanus interjects, stopping his movements.

“You and your dear Miss Lovett.” He retaliates. “I’m meeting with the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor immediately.”

You look up at the mention of your name. What did he do that could possibly endanger you?

Coriolanus stood by his seat, deciding to argue with the Dean. “You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away.”

“I’m putting insubordination as well.” Highbottom mutters, scratching the violated rules onto a paper.

Arachne looks at Coriolanus with distaste, placing her pen down. “Introducing her to people? Holding her hand when you have a girlfriend, Coryo? You make it look as if we’re one of the same as those animals.”

The grip on your pen tightened at her unneeded comments. The red encasing every fiber of your body once more as your classmates argued. You really started to hate Lucy Gray.

“Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.” Sejanus jumps in to defend his best friend.

“I don’t need your help Sejanus.” Coryo lowers his voice, taking his seat next to you.

He laced his hand with your left, making you freeze.You glance at him but don’t meet his eyes. You purse your lips and remove your hand from his, pushing it away from your lap.

You could feel his stare from your side, making you shift uncomfortable at the now high tension between you.

If Coriolanus had been with you earlier that morning, you would’ve welcomed his touch. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of doing something highly dangerous then coming back straight to you. Especially with the addition of being close with such a tribute.

Yes, you wanted to feel his comfort, and yes, you regretted not staying the night at his penthouse. But right now you couldn’t look at him without thinking of what you saw earlier.

Coriolanus hid a scoff at your behavior, choosing to rest his hands on the desk instead. He didn’t like to be ignored by you. You were his and obviously something altered your mindset if you acted like this.

Suddenly, Dr. Gaul appeared from the top of the classroom, slowly descending the stairs while reciting a kind of poem.

“Snow fell down in the cage. It fell down in the cage, but it landed.” Her eyes found the blond’s face, noticing his attitude to the female to his right. One she noticed during the reaping the other day too.

A small silence filled the room while Coriolanus slowly shifted his gaze to the doctor. “On stage.”

Her wicked smile appears on her face, “You’re good at games. Maybe one day you’ll be a game maker like me.”

“Not if the games continue at all.” Highbottom interjected, turning back around to face Dr. Gaul.

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo?” She gestures toward Coriolanus, eyes flickering to your face as well. “And I came here to ask your star mentor a question.”

The attention goes from Dr. Gaul to the male sitting beside you.

“What are the Hunger Games for?”

Coriolanus takes a second before answering, the gaze of his classmates heavy on him. “They’re to punish the Districts for their uprising. To… commemorate the end of the war—“

“Commemorate the dull, dull, dull.” She runs with her words, her raspy voice making it sinister. “Punishment can take myriad forms. Why not drop bombs? Cancel Food shipments? Stage executions? Why games?”

“Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves whether or not they’re right in the first place.” Sejanus replied instead of Coriolanus, making your head snap up to the Plinth. “Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended. The oldest of them were only eight!”

“Sejanus—”

“Ah, Miss Lovett.” Dr. Gaul called, catching your intention of stopping Sejanus’ ramble. “Tell me. What are the Hunger Games for?”

You pinch your hand, looking between her staring eyes. “To remind the Districts of the Capitol’s power and lack of remorse for the war they started. To show that, if pushed hard enough, humans will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Dr. Gaul clapped her hands at your response, her crazed smile only growing. “I like this one! She understands what the Hunger Games are for.”

You bite your tongue, doing what you could to show no emotion for the unnecessary praise.

“Unlike you, Mr. Plinth. That sort of sympathy might mess with your mentoring assignment.” She says in disapproval.

“Perhaps the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the game's time has passed.” Dean Highbottom attempted to talk about ending the games again.

“Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too.” Coriolanus stands, taking another look at you before shifting his attention to Dr Gaul. “Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. Maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings.”

You frown at your boyfriend. It seemed like he didn’t want the Hunger Games to continue yet he defends his stance like he needs them to continue.

“I mean, you saw those kids at the zoo. They wanted to get to know Lucy Gray—“

You let out a fake laugh. One that was quiet enough so that not everyone could hear, but loud enough that those sitting around you and Dr. Gaul could hear. You earned a curious look from Dr. Gaul and a glare from Coriolanus in the process.

“If we need people to watch, we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the Games. To make the stakes personal.” He finished, a prominent scowl replacing his once calm face.

You cross your arms and legs, watching the wall clock as they continue to converse about the topic. You lost interest the second he mentioned his tribute’s name. You could feel Coriolanus’ stare on you as he and Dr. Gaul went back and forth in their conversation.

“— Lucy Gray may not win in the arena… But if you just give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth prize that can win people’s attention.”

You caught his last bit, rolling your eyes at the mention of the infamous songbird.

Dr. Gaul hums, straightening her back. “I’d like you…” She flicks her eyes to your profile. “And Miss Lovett to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow.”

Your eyes widen at her, sitting up at the idea. “Dr. Gaul—“

“Wait.” Clemensia stands, hands lightly hitting the desk. “You mean you might actually use his, their ideas?”

“If it’ll help the ratings, why not?”

“Coriolanus,” She said loudly, trying to get as much recognition as the two of you. “And I are class partners. Dr. Gaul, we do all our assignments together.”

The doctor chuckles at Clemensia’s added comments, entertaining the idea. “It’ll be an interesting test.”

She took her leave, and it seemed as everyone in the room relaxed at the missing presence of the head game maker.

Coriolanus takes his seat next to you again, bringing his head by your ear. He felt you tense under him, making him release a quiet but bitter chuckle.

“Meet me in the library.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Coriolanus pulled you behind one of the shelves, gripping your arms.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Coriolanus.” You try prying yourself off of him. “Let go.”

“No.” He hardened his grip. “You’re being weird—“

“I’m being weird?” You throw your head back, laughing at his irony. “You were in a cage, locked with fucking tributes. Who knows what could have happened to you? You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

You tilt your head, a fake pout on your face. “No shit you didn’t.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Coriolanus got so close to your face that you could see the rage in his eyes.

“What are you going to do about it?” You crease your brows. The hands that held you in place started to hurt, but you couldn’t let that stop you now. “Tigris said you were just going to talk to your tribute, not follow her into where they’re being held.”

“I need her to trust me—“

“I’m not fucking done, Coriolanus.” You try to get out of his grip again. “You gave her one of your grandmother’s white roses, held her fucking hand, and looked at her as if she were the best damn thing that ever happened to you.”

“Is that what this attitude is about?” He scoffs at your childlike nature. “You’re jealous over my time spent with a District tribute?”

“You never looked at me the way you looked at her.” You seethed. Your silver necklace dangled over your collarbone, the light hitting it which caught Coriolanus’ eye. “And you never gave me one of Grandma’am’s special roses.”

The male looked back into your eyes, processing your words. “I need this girl to trust me. The only way for her to trust me is if she believes I cherish her. I want to win the Plinth prize. And according to the Dean, the way to win is by getting Lucy Gray to know someone still cares about her, even if she’s sent to her death. The people of Panem need to love her.”

You roll your eyes once more at the mention of the girl, “What good is winning the Plinth prize knowing you’re killing innocent people?”

“That’s not what you said to Dr. Gaul.”

“I don’t think I had a choice on my words spoken to her!” You almost scream, feeling tears welling in your eyes due to your boyfriend’s harsh grip. “Let go of me, Coriolanus. You’re hurting me.”

Something in him clicked, letting go of your arms.

You back up into one of the tables, wincing at the sudden sting. Coriolanus stepped close to check on you, suddenly feeling bad for holding you as hard as he probably shouldn’t have.

“Beautiful—“

“Don’t touch me.” You whisper as you rub your arms. “Don’t you dare.”

Coriolanus stops his actions, “Y/N…”

“I don’t like the Hunger Games.” You stare into his eyes, letting tears well into your eyes but never letting them fall. “And I can’t do anything to stop it. But I’ll try my very fucking best to get my tribute out of there alive and treated like a human and not as a spectacle for the eye.”

You shove his shoulder as you walk away from him, leaving the male in the library on his own.

“Fuck.” Coriolanus groaned, running a hand through his hair.

The rest of the day, you did your best to avoid Coriolanus. You would walk with Clemensia to classes or sit on the other side of the room if you had to. That was the first time he actually hurt you. Both mentally and physically.

You went into the restroom during your lunch break, removing part of your uniform to check the skin where Coriolanus gripped you. The skin was bright red and no doubt would be purple in a few minutes. Tears welled up in your eyes again but you refused to let them spill. Not for the same reason.

When classes ended, you took the fastest way you could to the Capitol Zoo, your bag filled to the brim with food, water, and medicine for your tribute. You knew your tribute was extremely sick and the chances for her survival were higher if she got any better.

You were the first mentor to appear at the Capitol. Although not the first visitor. Many parents and their children were staring at the tributes like they were animals. You did your best to avoid the camera set up right at the front, heading to one of the corners of the exhibit.

Lucky for you, Dill and Reaper were already situated in that area.

You were quickly able to gain their trust through the food and the medicine you brought for Dill. The three of you conversed about almost everything. Especially Dill. She wanted to know everything about you.

You offered her and Reaper more food as the young girl continued to question you.

“What about her? Are you friends with her?” Dill pointed to Arachne.

You shake your head, “More like acquainted. She’s not my favorite person I’ve ever met.”

“Good. She seems mean.” She grimaces at Arachne teasing her tribute with food. “Mm, what about that crazy man?”

“What?” You crease your brows, a confused laugh coming from you. “What crazy man?”

“That one.” She gestured to a blond, blue-eyed male. “The one who followed us in here. Is he your friend?”

You subconsciously grab your silver necklace, wrapping a finger around the charm. “He… Yes.”

Dill’s eyes lit up at the beautiful necklace, “That’s so pretty! Where did you get it?”

Smiling at her enthusiasm, you take it off and show it to her. “Coryo—“

“Who’s that?” She held the charm in her palm.

“My,” You hesitate, glancing at his crouched figure. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?!” She practically shouts, jumping to her feet. You catch the necklace before it can fall out of her hands, slipping it back on. That medicine really helped her.

The people around you look over, making you flush red at the sudden attention. “Dill, honey—“

“Who is it? Is he also a mender?” She continues to jump and down. “Is he here right now?”

Coriolanus catches your embarrassed state, tilting his head at what the young girl could possibly be talking about.

“He is, but Dill, you can’t announce it to everyone here.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, rubbing your arm from the sudden pain it emitted. “And it’s mentor.”

“Well which one is he? Is it him?!” She points to Sejanus, making you chuckle.

You catch your lover’s eyes, watching his own eyes drift down to your arm. The small smile on your face fades and you look down, clearing your throat.

“No, not him.” You hand her your last water bottle and shut your bag. “If I tell you who it is, do you promise not tell the rest of the tributes?”

“I promise.” She crossed her heart. “Who is it?”

You gesture for her to come closer, whispering into her ear. “It’s the crazy man.”

“Really?” She whisper-shouted back, looking at Coriolanus. Dill looked back at you and noticed your bothered face, “What’s wrong?”

“We had a fight today.” You mumble, dusting your skirt off. “We didn’t leave off on a good note.”

“Oh.” She held your hand. “Hopefully you make up! Even if he is crazy, he’s crazy smart. So are you! I just know you two will be married and have beautiful children and—“

Screams fill the air, cutting Dill off. You quickly whip your head toward the noise, finding Arachne being held by her tribute. Reaper came back over to pull the young girl away from you while you were pulled away from her by two peacekeepers.

“What’s happening to Arachne?” You strain your neck to look over, watching blood pour out of her neck. “Oh, god— Oh my, god.”

Shots were being fired by peacekeepers, killing the tribute that attacked one of your peers. You pulled yourself away from the peacekeepers and rushed over to her. Although you weren’t the closest with Arachne, you were still going to try your best to help her.

“Arachne?” You kneel by her, holding her head. “Can you hear me?”

She sputters out incoherent words, the glass bottle still pierced into her neck.

“You’re going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.” You do your hardest to stop the bleeding without hurting her even further. “I’m sure someone is coming to help—”

“Beautiful—” You feel a pair of strong arms pull you away from Arachne’s body, her body slowly becoming lifeless.

“Oh, my god.” You drop your hands, letting the arms pull you up. “I can’t— She just—“

“Baby, I need you to breathe.” Coriolanus turned you around, holding your face in his hands. “Breathe with me.”

You shook your head, Arachne’s blood covering your hands. “Her family needs to— She’s d–dead. Her parents—”

He wiped the tears you didn’t know were falling from your face. “It’s not your fault. I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that?” You suck a shaky breath in and release, shutting your eyes at the encounter.

“Okay, good. A few more.” He continued to brush the tears off.

Coriolanus made sure you could breathe properly before leading you further away from the Capitol zoo. You tried to not get any blood on Coriolanus’ school uniform and tried to stop the flow of tears.

Admittedly, you hated how Arachne acted, but you never wanted her to die because of it. But her action toward the tribute was wrong and she paid the price for it. At least, that’s what the voice in the back of your mind repeatedly said to you.

“Do you need me to take you home?” Coryo took out water from his bag and wet some tissues, rubbing your hands.

You mumble a small no, sniffling from all your tears spent today. You assumed the tears were from what happened before and that Arachne’s death was just the trigger for it. You were still upset over Coriolanus and Lucy Gray and the way he treated you earlier. But those thoughts were pushed and locked into a small chest. You needed to be with him after what just happened to a classmate.

He looked at you with somewhat concern, “Are you sure? I can—”

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Your glassy eyes met his, catching his worried look. “I can’t spend tonight alone.”

Coriolanus threw the tissues away in a nearby trash can, “Always.”

You let him pull you into a hug, forgetting that he hurt you physically and you didn’t want him to hold you.

“It’s starting again.” Grandma’am walks over to the table you, Coriolanus, and Tigris were seated. “This is how it begins… The war.”

“It was my fault. I suggested we get closer to the tributes.” Coriolanus says in a distant tone, his hand in yours.

Your head rests on his right shoulder, dressed in one of the robes Tigris made you. You let him fiddle with your hand, feeling him trace his name over your palm.

“You’re just lucky that your songbird and that sickly girl didn’t attack the both of you as well.” Grandma’am gestured to you.

“They’re not rebels, Grandma’am. They’re just girls.” Tigris looks down at the table, her voice wavering at the thought of the poor tributes.

“Trust me. Lucy Gray hasn’t been a girl in a long time.” Grandma’am shook her head, Coryo’s eyes snapping up to hers. “Outside of this Capitol, they’re savages. One and all. However they may smile, they will use you. You must use them. Or you’ll end up dead in the trees like your father.”

You squeeze Coriolanus’ hand at the mention of his deceased father, feeling him tense under his grandmother’s words. You loved Grandma’am, but to say something about her grandson’s dead father to get his act right did not settle right with you.

As the night grew longer, Tigris eventually escorted Grandma’am back to her room, squeezing both yours and her cousin’s shoulders.

“Don’t let him stay up all night for this.” Tigris told you, hoping you would knock some sort of sense into him. “Good night.”

You smile at her before shifting your attention back to the male to your right. “You heard your cousin.”

Coriolanus had his left hand now resting on your leg, occasionally moving his hand up and down to keep you awake. “You’re supposed to help me with these thoughts, you know?”

“I know.” You give him a sleepy smile. “I’ll help. I probably won’t have the best ideas, but I’m here as moral support.”

He chuckled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best moral support ever.”

You ended up falling asleep the second he got to the fifth paragraph, head resting on the papers he already filled out.

But you and Coriolanus knew something between the two of you shifted. And you both knew it. Why?

Because he had yet to apologize for hurting you earlier.

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[disappearintothegrey]

kitten // noah sebastian

Summary - A little trip to a local cat cafe ends with more than you bargained for. But, you'd do anything for Noah.

warnings - none. tooth-rotting fluff.

first one-shot in my random Noah Sebastian one-shot series. i am working on two requests, and my requests are currently open. you can also find this cross-posted on ao3 within the series. thanks for reading ♥

~~~~~

It all started as a light-hearted plan. Seriously. 

The guys had just gotten back from a small tour run, taking one day to rest at their shared home. Folio and Jolly were busy playing some game on Folio’s XBOX, which Noah and I watched on boredly. Jolly had just killed Folio in-game, a competitive war about to erupt before Nicholas busted into the living room, pure glee on his tan face. 

“Guys, guys!” Nicholas was vibrating with excitement, and I moved my eyes to him questioningly. I could hear Noah snicker under his breath beside me, watching on in amusement.

“What’s up?” Noah inquires, “You literally look like you’re going to explode at any moment,” He jokes. 

“Guess what just opened down the street?!” Nicholas exclaims, his phone screen thrust in their faces, “We have to go!” 

Despite Nicholas’ shaky hands, I was able to make out the words “CAT CAFE GRAND OPENING” on his screen, and my eyes lit up, “You guys have a cat cafe!” I cheered, and Nicholas dropped beside me on the couch to let me go through the cafe’s website, and I squealed, “They have kitties!” 

“It is called a cat cafe, babe,” Noah teases, dodging the slap that came towards his shoulder.

“We have to go,” Nicholas begs, and I can see the desperation on his face.

“It sounds fun, we should go tomorrow,” I chime in, smirking at the disdain on the other three's faces. But it was nothing compared to the giddy smile that was all over Nicholas’ features, “Pleaseeeeeee?” I whine, hitting Noah with pleading eyes. 

Noah’s eyes narrow, almost glaring at me, “Don’t use that face against me,” He warns, but I don’t let up, “Sage,” He groans, pleading with his eyes.

“Fine, stop looking at me like that,” Noah concedes, falling back against the couch in defeat. I squeal, and Nicholas cheers as he schedules us a time-frame for tomorrow. 

Folio and Jolly exchange amused glances, returning to their game once Nicholas disappears back to his room. Noah is glaring at me, and I know I’m in for it later. I smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, muttering a thanks against his lips before I get to my feet and head to our bathroom. I can feel his fond eyes on my back, hearing him return to bickering with Folio and Jolly on the game. 

—

“Oh my god look at them!” I coo, spotting all the little kitties playing with each other and other patrons as we walk into the cafe, Nicholas visibly freaking out beside me, “I have to play with them all,” 

The guys are all talking amongst themselves as Nicholas checks us in, all of us being given a bag of treats and stickers that read our appointment end time. With all the house rules said to us, the front-desk employee lets us in and Nicholas immediately heads for this pair of black kittens napping on a small tree. 

I can feel Noah’s hand on my lower back, and he gives me a gentle push, making me look up at him to find him already looking down at me with a grin, “Go on, go play. I’ll get us coffees,” He offers, and I squeal, kissing him quickly before departing from the other guys. 

Nicholas is busying himself petting the awakening kittens, one of them crawling into his lap and curling up in a little ball. Folio found himself an adult ginger kitty–well actually, the orange boy found him first–, sitting criss-cross on the tile floor and letting the cat climb his legs and nuzzle his nose into his chin. Jolly and Noah were ordering the group lattes, talking amongst themselves as they wait for the beverages to be made. 

I look around the cafe, seeing cats and kittens of all sizes and colors playing and sleeping. Other patrons are happily using the toys to lure the cats in, but my eyes were drawn to a small tabby kitten, nestled inside a pumpkin house, sleeping soundly in the corner of the room. I smile to myself, walking up slowly to the house and sitting down in front of it, peering inside to see two olive eyes sleepily looking back at me.

“Hi there, baby,” I whisper, “You are so beautiful,” I say soothingly, the kittens fur long and luscious, black, brown, and grey in tone. The hair peaks on her ears are long and pointed, and her large paws tell me she’s a Maine Coon. 

With a stretch, the kitten stumbles out of the house, meowing up at me as she sits down in front of me, cleaning the sleep out of her eyes with her paws. I snap a few pictures on my phone, extending my hand to let her sniff my skin curiously. Her wet nose touches my knuckles, before her head pushes into my palm, demanding head scratches. I oblige, scratching her temple and behind her ears before petting down her spine, the soft fur under my fingers feeling like a cloud. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest?” I ask, and the kitten follows it up by crawling up my crossed legs, settling in the crook of my thighs. I audibly awe, immediately letting her curl into a ball and stroke her fur. 

“Looks like you found a friend,” I heard above me, and I glance up to see Noah peering at us fondly, his eyes sparkling with affection, “Got you a pumpkin spice,” He announces, setting down the iced latte on the little table beside us, dropping down to sit criss-cross beside me. 

“Thanks,” I kiss his cheek, smirking at the pink that comes over his cheeks, “Look at her,” 

Noah glances down at the sleeping kitten, and I notice immediately how his eyes soften and he’s reaching out to pet her head. She lets out a content meow, and he literally coos, making my heart melt. That warm, sweet boy I fell for is coming out, no longer hidden by his “hard” outer shell. I feel the kitten stirring, Noah’s fingers gently caressing her fur, and her purring is so loud I can hear it. 

“She likes you,” I whisper, and he just smiles at me, going to take his hand back. 

“She’s just tired,” He replies, sipping from his latte. 

I shook my head, and the kitten took notice that she was no longer being pet, her eyes peeking open and a disgruntled meow escaping her tiny throat. I chuckle, scratching underneath her chin, her eyes slipping closed at the sensation as she purrs against my fingertips. Noah’s hand sneaks over to pat at her head, and he grabs at the small collar wrapped around her neck, looking at the ID tag curiously. 

“Hello there, Clementine,” He says softly, and her ears perk up at the sound of her name, tiny eyes glancing at Noah from my lap, “What a pretty name for a pretty girl,” He coos, and she meows in response, getting to her feet and climbing over to his arms. 

I see him visibly melt the moment she makes herself comfortable in his arms, nuzzling up to his chest. Noah’s brown eyes are filled with affection, tattooed fingers gently stroking her fur. With her little head perched on his forearm, she drifts off into a nap while he gives her pets. He’s too enthralled with her to notice I got up, snapping sneaky photos of them before going to sit with Nicholas, who was still playing with the pair of black kittens. 

He gives me a smile, his eyes searching for Noah, but his grin grows even wider when he sees his best friend huddled up with Clementine in the corner of the room, “Looks like he found someone special,” Nicholas comments, “This is Oreo and Twix,” He introduces the kittens, who meow at their name. 

I give the kittens a scratch, my eyes never wavering from Noah, “He’s gonna fall in love with her,” I comment, a little sad, “Too bad we can’t take one home,” 

Nicholas gives me a mischievous glance, “Who says we can’t?” 

I met his gaze, confused, “We can?” 

“Like any of us are gonna say no to a cat. Plus, Harper would love the company,” He replies. 

I nod, glancing back to Noah, who’s now leaned against the wall with Clementine curled into his neck, his eyes closed as he cuddles with her. I can’t wipe the dopey grin off my face, and it’s then when I decide to start plotting. 

—

“Time to go, baby,” I say quietly, approaching Noah as he’s looking sadly at Clementine. 

Noah sighs, kissing the kitten’s head softly, placing her back in her pumpkin house, but she cries out in protest, reaching out for him. He looks heartbroken, the look of disdain on his face undeniable, “I’m sorry sweet one, we have to go. I’ll come see you again,” He promises, “If you’re here next time,” And I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t break at the sound of his voice. 

Clementine continues crying as we walk out, her little face appearing in the windows of the cafe, Noah forcing himself to look away from her as he grabs my hand and presses forward. My heart couldn’t take it anymore, so I suddenly stopped and pretended to gasp. 

“I think I left my phone in there, I’ll be back!” I announce, turning to walk away, “Go ahead and get in the car,” 

Noah just nods, following the guys to their car as I run inside the shop, greeting the same front-desk employee, “Please tell me I can adopt Clementine,” I ask hurriedly, glancing behind me, “My boyfriend fell in love with her and I really wanna surprise him with her,” 

The employee smiles at me, bending down behind her desk to hand me a clipboard, “Fill out this paperwork, and then I need a valid driver's license to file,” She starts, “And then she’ll be all yours to pick up tomorrow morning,” 

After paperwork and $65 later for her adoption fee, Clementine was officially ours. I thanked the employees and raced outside, hopping in the car, “Sorry, they had to look for it,” 

Nicholas looks at me in question, but stays quiet. Noah’s looking out the window, looking for Clementine in the cafe’s windows as Jolly flips the car into park. I slide my fingers into his, giving his hand a squeeze as he lets out a sad sigh. He leans his head on my shoulder, playing with the sleeve of my shirt as he sulks. 

Little does he know, tomorrow morning, his whole day would brighten up. 

—

The next morning, I woke up extra early, making sure Noah stayed asleep as I slipped out of bed, getting dressed and heading out the door. My first stop was Petco, buying Clementine a litterbox, food and water bowl, toys, a bed, and scratching post. I would let Noah pick out her cat tree, I decided, grabbing her food and litter as well. 

After Petco, I headed straight for the cafe, parking right up front and carrying in the carrier I just purchased, the same employee giving me a warm smile, “She’s all ready for you, follow me,” 

I follow her into the cafe, but into a different room, where little Clementine is waiting for me on a cat tree. She meows loudly at me, clearly remembering my scent as I stroke her head, the employee getting the carrier situated for her while I pet her, “You’re coming home to see your new daddy,” I tell her, getting a meow back. 

Clementine’s placed in the carrier, wrapped up on a blanket with treats and a toy, the employee giving me one last smile, “She’s all yours! Congratulations!” 

“Let’s go home baby girl,” I tell her through the carrier, leading us out the door and securing her in my car with the seatbelt. 

The drive home was short, Clementine meowing at the bumpiness of the car ride while I tried to soothe her with my voice. I parked the car as fast as I could, carrying her in and making Folio carry in her supplies as I snuck inside. Nicholas is sitting on the couch, his eyes lighting up, “No way,” 

“Ssh, I don’t want her to start yelling,” I whisper, letting Nicholas see her through the carrier’s gated door, “Gonna sneak upstairs and put her on my pillow,” 

Nicholas grins at me, giving me a supportive wave as he goes to help Folio, and I carefully descend upstairs, opening our bedroom door to find Noah still fast asleep, facing my side of the bed with the blankets pulled to his waist. Quietly, I bend down to open her carrier, scooping her out and placing her on the pillows in front of him, letting her sniff the air. She puts her wet nose against Noah’s cheek, and he flinches, his eyes fluttering open to spot the tabby kitten staring at him curiously. 

“Clementine?!” He yelps, staring at her as if she wasn’t real, before he notices me standing behind them, recording the whole thing, “No way,” He replies, sitting up and grabbing Clementine, “No way!” 

“She’s all yours, Noah,” I tell him, sitting down beside them as he strokes her fur and coos in her ear, “I just couldn’t leave her there after watching you fall in love with her. You needed each other,” I finish, and Noah’s face is lit up with gratitude and love. 

He leans in to give me a kiss, holding my cheek with his free hand, “I don’t deserve you, thank you for her,” He says, giving me another kiss before pulling away, “Ready to go explore your new home?” He asks Clementine, who just meows in response as he hops out of bed and trots out of the room. 

No, Noah, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. But Clementine? She deserves you. 

[lovesuhng]

last night

w.c: 1.1k friends to lovers, a little suggestive, mention of drunk sex, mention of johnny being big

Mental note: never drink again.

You had definitely overdone it the previous night. You didn’t often go to parties, so you enjoyed last night a lot. You hoped you hadn't done anything stupid.

But that wasn’t the case.

You struggled to open your eyes, the sunlight disturbing her vision. Gradually, you recognized that this wasn’t your room. You also felt something holding you by the waist and quickly realized you were being hugged. Seeing that you were next to your best friend, you just snuggled closer to his chest and closed your eyes again.

But you felt something was wrong. You opened your eyes quickly and looked under the blanket you shared with your best friend. Your heart almost stopped when you realized you were both naked. Panic took over your body, making you scream and jump out of bed, waking Johnny, who screamed along with you.

“What’s going on? Why are you screaming like that? My head is going to explode,” said Johnny, putting his hands on his temples, trying to ease the pain.

“For God's sake, Johnny, tell me this didn’t happen.” You pointed at the two of you, trying to explain what “this” was.

“Well… if you want me to lie to calm you down: we didn’t have sex. But if you want the truth, we did.”

“AND HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT SO CALMLY?! This shouldn’t have happened! Look at the mess we made!” You paced back and forth, nervous, running the hands through your hair, gesticulating wildly. “Seriously, what’s going to happen to our friendship now? How are we going to explain this to everyone? How am I going to look at you? Johnny, are you listening to me?!” You stopped walking, putting your hands on your hips, looking at your friend who looked adorable with his sleepy face, messy hair and tattoos on display. You couldn’t deny, he was ridiculously handsome. He had a mischievous smile on his face, watching you (practically devouring you with his eyes). You were ready to say something else when you realized Johnny was looking at you like that because you were completely naked. Your face turned bright red with embarrassment and quickly pulled one of the sheets from the bed, making Johnny laugh, who then made a move to get up, making you scream “no” because you knew he was also naked.

“Can you stop screaming?”

“Wa-wait, I’ll change clothes and wait for you in the living room so we can talk.” If you can remember where they are. Seeing you looking around the room for your clothes, Johnny said:

“Your clothes are in the living room and you better wear one of my shirts.” Confused, you did what your friend said. Your mental question was answered when, upon reaching the living room and grabbing your shirt, you found it torn in half. Some flashes of what happened last night came to mind, but you couldn’t remember much.

After putting on your clothes (or what was left of them), you looked for some hangover medicine, since you knew that apartment better than anyone and Johnny was taking a while, probably taking a shower. After drinking some water, you felt a bit sore. That reminded you of how big your friend was. You felt embarrassed and started remembering moments from the night.

Upon entering Johnny’s apartment, you were laughing at something very silly, but given your state, it was the funniest thing that had happened. He had his hand on your shoulder and you were hugging his waist. It was comical to see Johnny, with his towering height, leaning on you, perhaps the reason you were laughing to the point of tears.

You knew you couldn’t support Johnny for long, given your condition, ended up stumbling and falling onto the sofa, taking Johnny down with you, causing another laughter crisis. But the laughter died down when you realized how close your faces were. The intense exchange of glances only ended because Johnny pressed his lips to yours. This peck became a hot, desperate kiss. Your hands tangled your friend's freshly cut hair, while one of his hands firmly gripped your thigh and the other held your nape, trying to bring you closer.

You needed to separate to catch your breath, but when Johnny saw your reddened, parted lips, he didn’t take long to kiss you again. The kiss was intense, making you give a slight moan when Johnny lightly bit your lower lip, which was enough to drive him crazy. He simply tore your shirt off, impatient. You were a little startled.

“John-”

“Sorry, my dear,” he said, kissing down your neck, making you close your eyes. “But I’m desperate for you.”

He separated from you, stood up on the sofa and gently pulled you up, starting another kiss. You felt his hands roam your body, passing by your butt, lightly squeezing, and moving to your thighs, giving two light taps in a silent request for you to jump up. With ease, he was carrying you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. Gently, he laid you on the bed, only separating to take off his shirt. Johnny saw your desire-filled gaze roaming his sculpted body and smiled. He was ready to give you the best night of your life. Too bad you didn’t remember much of it.

“__”

You were startled, dropping the glass into the sink. Johnny approached and stood beside you, knowing you were very embarrassed.

“This was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t and you know it.”

“Johnny, stop it!” You turned to him, who was already looking at you. “We’re friends. FRIENDS. And friends don’t do this kind of thing. I don’t even remember much of what happened. We were drunk and that’s what pisses me off the most.” You tried to look away, but Johnny held your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him, then slid his hand to your cheek.

“Hey, look at me. I agree that having sex drunk wasn’t the best choice, but, please, don’t say it was a mistake.” You could feel the sincerity in his voice, especially since it was trembling, as if he might cry at any moment. “I’ve always wanted you, and the way we loved each other last night, I know you want me too.”

“Don’t play with me, John.”

“I would never do that because you mean everything to me.”

Unlike last night, this kiss was warm and full of love, as if trying to convey many things at once. When you separated, Johnny looked into your eyes and said:

“See? We complete each other. And if you want, I can give you a better night than last night so you can remember everything, Ouch!” He was interrupted by a slap you gave his arm.

“All in good time, you perverted!” You laughed at his expression of pain. “But, I agree, I’ve always wanted you and will always want you.”

[readychilledwine]

A Father's Love

Summary - Eris comforts his pregnant mate after a small breakdown. Eris x pregnant!reader

Warnings - pregnancy and mental health

A/N - This isn't something I've previewed, but I had to use some of the things my baby daddy said to me in a drabble (because oof my heart exploded) and it felt nice to have an outlet for the icky pregnancy guilt and worries Im dealing with. Hopefully, you all melt at this, too..

ps- I'm thinking about adding a dad drabble series masterlist to my page. Let me know if you'd like that.

Word count - 550

Eris held your hand from across the table, the calloused pad of his thumb dancing across and between your knuckles as you cried.

"No one said it would be this hard," another round of sobbing shook your shoulders. "No one said we would ride this high and reality would hurt when it crashed." Eris just nodded. Staying silent and allowing you to vent while those amber eyes softened in love and concern.

You rose your shaking free hand, wiping the warm tears from your face. "And then to top it all off, I'm so selfish right now I did not even notice you were worried or a shift in your emotions. I didn't even feel it through the bond-"

"Stop." Eris demanded. His tone was still gentle, but he was firm, his face now set in a serious line. "Do not even concern yourself for a moment with my feelings or needs right now. We are talking about you."

"That's the problem, the past 8 months have been about me and what I want, what I need, what the I'll need after birth, what baby will need. What about you, Eris? When do we discuss what you need?"

He moved to you, then, feet guiding him gracefully across the floor as he placed your hands on his warm chest. You could feel his heartbeat, pacing in its soft rhythm, and it calmed you enough to bring you back from the tipping point you were approaching. "I am not the one whose body is constantly changing," he began. "I am not the one who is about to have to change my diet, my habits, and ignore my wants for the next year to feed our child." 

He leaned in kissing your forehead. "I am not the one who asked to wait a few more years then had to cry alone for several weeks until I was ready to talk about how our protection failed. I am not the one sacrificing so much. You are, my love. We will talk about me and my needs when they matter."

He smiled softly. "Besides, I picked her name. I picked her coming home outfit. I picked her nursery colors, her first stuffie, her toy room theme. If my opinion was given, you immediately compromised or switched plans." His hand went down to your swollen stomach. "You didn't even allow anyone else to feel her until you ensured I did first."

You still sniffled. "But aren't you mad?"

Eris looked slightly taken back, two fingers coming to tilt your fallen chin up and ensure you held eye contact with him. "You are growing my legacy, our child. How could I be mad at you for being in pain, tired, or crying? There's no words I can say to express how blessed and grateful I am." Your jaw trembled as he leaned in and kissed you. "Do you understand?" You nodded, and he stared at your stomach, waiting. "Someone needs her mommy to take a few deep breaths, drink a hot chocolate, and have a snack." Eris moved, instantly over to the cabinet you two had been hiding your cravings in and pulled out your box of chocolates. "Let's go be lazy, read in bed, and eat these." He held a hand to you, waiting for you to take it and smiled widely when you did. "There's my girl. Now, regular hot chocolate or fancy hot chocolate?"

You sniffled again, significantly more calm this time as he led you into your shared bed chambers. "Fancy."

He smiled again, kissing your forehead, then your nose. "Get changed, get comfy. I'll be back with hot chocolate smothered in marshmallows and whipped cream."

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Question: I enjoyed s1 OF OFMD, but for various reasons I never actually got around to watching s2 (pick up most of the plot from tumblr tho). What exactly went wrong in s2 that got so many people upset?

Oh, boy. Very long rant incoming.

So, for context, S2 had a significantly smaller budget, which necessitated moving the filming location to union-unfriendly New Zealand, reducing the number of actors/number of appearances of established actors, and cutting down the number of episodes from 10 to 8. In a show where each episode is only about half an hour long, that last one alone was enough to seriously hamper any character development or plot. I am very comfortable putting the vast majority of the blame on HBO because of these financial decisions.

The short version is that Jenkins et. al. needed to address and build on the problems left hanging in S1 while also getting the characters to the end of their character trajectories in case there was no S3 while also leaving room for additional episodes in case there was a S3, in a grand total of four hours, and failed.

The long version is that there were a bunch of what I'd consider small problems in isolation that came together and exploded in the S2 finale.

The reduced cast necessitated breaking up the crew (ex: having Swede marry Jackie and stay on land with her, so they don't need to pay Nat Faxon for all eight episodes) and not spending as much time on their relationships as S1 did.

The reduced time meant that the entire season was rushed (in contrast to S1, which takes place over at least several weeks if not months, most of S2 takes place in roughly five days), leading both to a lot of telling rather than showing (because they don't have time to show you), including vital character and relationship development.

This includes:

Having the Kraken half of the crew beat Ed to death after months of being abused by him – abuse that is clearly shown to have given them PTSD and a well-justified fear and hatred of him – only for them to be okay with him two in-universe days later;

On that note, having Stede dismiss the crew's concerns about Ed because he loves him and also we only have three more episodes left to fit in everything so we need to get over it really fast, even though Stede is supposed to be well-meaning and caring (even if he's not good at it all the time);

Resolving the issue of Stede abandoning Ed in one day, then having them "go slowly" in their relationship for two days and then have some spur-of-the-moment sex, and then the next afternoon have them break up over their diverging career aspirations, and then the day after that resolve that problem and retire on land while the rest of the crew sails off into the sunset;

Stede becoming a fantastic pirate captain over the course of one day, becoming wildly popular in the piracy world two days later, and then deciding the day after that to never be a captain again because he is retiring with Ed;

Having Ed and Stede decide to retire together as what is implied to be the end point of their relationship arc, when none of Stede's issues from S1, like his poor self-esteem, have been so much as mentioned by anyone, implying that he's either magically gotten over them or they don't matter all that much, actually, even though they were the catalyst for basically everything he did in S1;

Ed having two separate character crises – "I am an unlovable person" and "I want to do something with my life other than piracy" – not spending a lot of time on either one, having moments that clearly indicate he is still working on both problems and they have not been resolved, and then apparently having them both be resolved in the final episode despite nothing occurring to actually make that happen, and in regards to the latter, despite the story actively undermining it by repeatedly showing he can't do anything other than piracy;

Related to the above, Ed ending the series as allegedly being loved by the crew as a family (thus solving Crisis #1) despite this never actually being shown, demonstrated, or even fucking alluded to onscreen. If anything, it shows the exact opposite.

This last point is especially galling to me because of what is probably the most divisive issue in the fandom right now: killing off Izzy Hands after giving him seven episodes of character development.

The show begins with the Kraken crew clearly trying to use the skills they learned as part of Stede's crew to cope with their incredibly shitty situation and care for each other, which includes Izzy. Izzy, on his end, tries to protect the crew and speak up for them, which results in him being repeatedly hurt (both implicitly, as Ed at one point says "that's another toe" in response to Izzy advocating for the crew and we later see he's missing more than one toe already, and explicitly, as Ed shoots him in the fucking leg in front of the crew when he stands up for them).

This camaraderie is shown again and again and again. Frenchie, Jim, and Archie take care of Izzy while his leg is infected, at risk to their own lives. Izzy's misery over losing his leg is what unites the PTSD-ridden Kraken crew and the well-meaning-but-ignorant-of-PTSD marooned crew, who are initially at odds, to make him a new prosthetic leg. Izzy gives Lucius advice about forgiving Ed. Izzy is introduced to drag and opens up enough to sing at a crew party, and the whole crew is having fun together while Ed and Stede are in their cabin having sex for the first time. Izzy gives Stede pirate captain lessons and bonds with him when Ed leaves him. Izzy provokes the season's villain into focusing on him and then gives a big speech about how piracy is about belonging to something, giving the rest of the crew time to try to escape.

Recall that Season 1 had some pretty well-established universe rules, one of which was that it runs on Muppet physics/magical realism. People can jump off yardarms, hit the side on the way down, and be perfectly fine. People can get stabbed in the liver and it's totally okay because it's probably not that important, and even can stay pinned to a mast all night that way with only mild discomfort. Buttons can talk to birds and see long distances without a spyglass and put hexes on people. Good people can be hurt (Stede is stabbed repeatedly), bad people can die (the Badmintons, Geraldo), but no one we care about is ever killed.

This is repeated in Season 2: Ed is beaten into a coma with a cannonball and wakes up like Sleeping Beauty after a spirit journey, with no injuries to his face or body. Buttons turns into a seagull after spending an episode doing a magic ritual and is never seen again (because they couldn't keep paying Ewen Bremner due to the budget cuts). Jackie microdoses her husbands with poison to build up their immunity, so that she can later pull a Dread Pirate Westley and poison the British with shared drinks.

So: in the finale, the villain of the season is taken hostage by the pirates (for reasons? unclear how that fits in the plan), happens to have a gun on him (no one checked??), shoots Izzy on the right side and then leaves with no repercussions. The entire crew stands around silently doing nothing while Ed cries over Izzy and tells him that he's his only family.

And Izzy fucking Hands, the guy who just spent eight episodes bonding with and protecting everyone, uses his last words to reassure Ed that him becoming Blackbeard/the Kraken was Izzy's fault and that the crew is Ed's family and they all love him. No one else says anything to Izzy or tries to comfort him or help him in any way.

I repeat: in a show predicated on the idea that bullies and bigots die stupid deaths while queer people and POC are basically magic, a show that was praised for being kind to queer people by not making them worry about their faves suffering or dying, a show founded on the strength of the relationships between the characters, the guy who went through a season-long arc of learning to embrace his pirate found family and his own queerness is shot for stupid reasons on the side we're told isn't important and dies while everyone just stands there. His last words are about the whole crew loving Ed when the only person that the whole crew has loved all season is him.

Anyway, never mind all that, let's cut to Lucius and Pete getting married and Stede and Ed retiring!

Complicating all this is that people who liked Izzy (or even said anything insufficiently mean about Izzy) were harassed for months in between seasons with insults, slurs, and actual fucking death threats. Izzy's growth was kind of a vindication for liking him: it meant that, despite all the harassment, we were right to like him and care about him as a character. Even people who didn't like him initially started to like him during Season 2.

And then he dies, and now there's a bunch of people saying that Izzy fans are big whiny babies who can't handle fictional death, and actually his death was so meaningful and beautiful and the only logical end to his arc, and it can't be bad writing because people die in real life all the time, and also he admitted he fed Ed's darkness so actually he was a terrible person all along anyway and they were right to hate him (and his fans)!

So, yeah, there are a lot of reasons why it's so hated, and I'm probably only addressing the problems of the pro-Izzy people (from what I can tell, BlackBonnet shippers who don't like Izzy think Ed and Stede's relationship is fine and dandy, but I'm sure that there are other criticisms they have that I have not addressed). I'm not even addressing the issues with Jim and Oluwande's relationship this season (and whooo boy are there issues).

It wasn't a universally bad season. There were episodes I really loved and still do. But the finale was a train wreck, and because it was a train wreck, a lot of people are looking back at what happened before the wreck and realizing that, oh, the train lost its brakes and steering because of the budget cuts and the engineers kept throwing fuel in the engine to make it go faster, and huh, now that I think of it, that part earlier in the trip was really wobbly but I didn't pay much attention to it at the time because I was sure the engineers had everything covered.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

-------------

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Thank you all for being so patient with this update! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt6

Cassian x f!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

An: I've been busy, but here is the next part. I do hope you enjoy

Summary: Dinner with the IC doesn't go exactly to plan...

Warning: I am deliberately choosing not to put any. Proceed with caution.

Word count: 2239

Cassian nearly choked on his tongue when he saw you. Doing a double take as you breezed through the doors onto the veranda where he had been waiting for you. He would never admit it to you, but he'd been anxiously awaiting your appearance for more than thirty minutes now. Running his fingers through his hair and gripping the railing so tight he was surprised there weren't hand prints left behind. But you were here now, and Cauldron, you were beautiful. Like dawn's first light given physical form. 

You suppressed a blush as you approached the general whose jaw had gone slack and whose eyes couldn't seem to stop taking you in. Hazel eyes roved over your body, drinking in every part of you like a male starved and were a proverbial buffet. You may have swished your hips as you approached. Just a bit. 

“You..” he trailed off, eyes finally reconnecting with yours as he swallowed hard. “You look… beautiful, Y/N”

“Thank you, Cassian,” you blushed in earnest now as you came to stand beside him along the railing. “You look rather dashing yourself.” 

“Ah, well,” he looked down at himself, and you took the opening to survey the Illyrian before you. He wasn't in his usual black leather armor but instead wore an elegant black jacket and matching slacks. Red and silver embroidery along the lapels and cuffs of his jacket looked like exploding stars and almost seemed to shift in the fading light of dusk. Though it was obvious he was not used to wearing such fine things, he pulled it off as if he never wore anything else. The jacket was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. The hem drew the eyes to his slim waist and long legs. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought him to be a powerful lord of this land with all the elegance and refinement that entailed. “The House laid this out for me, I don't even know where it got it.” 

You let out a laugh at that, “You too? It pulled this out for me.” 

He laughed with you at that, taking the invitation to look you over once more before holding his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

You hesitated a moment, glancing back towards the house, “Shouldn't we wait for Nesta?” 

“Feyre came and picked her up earlier,” he shrugged, keeping his hand steady in front of you. “She wanted to visit Nyx before dinner.”

Your breath caught in your throat, “Oh, okay…” 

Uncertainty crossed his features then, “Is… Is there a problem? Should I have Feyre come get you too?” His hand started to drop.

“No,” you said quickly, reaching out to take his hand in yours before he could step away. “Sorry, no. There is no problem.” His hand was large and warm. His calluses scraped against your own, sending a shock of electricity through you as you snapped your gaze up to meet his hazel eyes. 

Suddenly, you were not standing atop the House of Wind. You were not in Velaris or any part of the Night Court you were familiar with. Instead, you were walking around an obsidian obelisk. A baron mountain rumbled beneath your feet, and the wind rushed through your hair. You paused, your eyes shifting to one of the steep climbs below where three figures were making their way towards you- towards the stone behind you. The mountain shook again, and two sets of hazel eyes locked onto yours. 

You blinked, and you were back on the veranda. Cassian standing before you with a look of concern on his face. “Sorry. We should go. They're probably waiting for us.” You shook your head as if to clear the vision from your mind before stepping closer to him.

He stiffened for a moment as you pressed your body into him before bending to sweep your legs out from under you. You let out a small squeak as he jumped from the verandas's edge, and the two of you began a free fall towards the city below. But just before you took matters into your own hands and winnowed you both to safety, his wings snapped out, and with a powerful beat, you found yourself gliding through the air. 

The city glittered like stars below, and you couldn't stop the gasp from escaping your mouth as you took in the view. You'd seen Velaris at night. You'd watched the lights twinkling below as if to match the stars above and had marveled at the perfect beauty of it all. But this, flying through it, as if swimming in a sea of stars, you felt something in your chest shift and settle at the sight before you and the feeling of warm arms enveloping you. You wouldn't name the feeling. Not yet. 

But maybe soon. 

You arrived at the River House sooner than you would have liked, but Cassian set you down respectfully in the lawn just as the door flew open and two High Fae females rushed to greet you. 

“Y/N!” Feyre beamed, pulling you into a hug, “You look amazing! I've missed you.”

“We saw each other last week,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around the female. 

“Yes but that was so long ago,” she sighed as Rhysand appeared in the threshold and wrapped an arm around the waist of his mate to gently pry her off of you. 

“You'll have to forgive, Feyre darling,” he smirked down at her and she giggled, “Mor convinced her to raid my collection of rare wine again and because she's not had a drink since before she got pregnant it seems to have hit her rather harder than normal.”

“He's full of it-I'm fine,” she protested despite how her words slurred slightly, and you laughed. 

“Oh course you are, my love,” he placated her with a wink towards you. “But we are glad you agreed to join us tonight, Y/N.”

“It wasn't exactly phrased like I had an option,” you raised an eyebrow as you cast a glance towards Cassian, who tried and failed to not look guilty. “But, still, I thank you for your hospitality, High Lord.”

“Please just call me Rhysand,” he smiled warmly at you, and you dipped your chin slightly. 

“Of course.” 

“I think this is the most I've heard you speak,” Nesta's voice was cold, her gaze like a knife opening you up to dissect what she found inside. “You're always so… quiet in the library.” The atmosphere shifted with her words. Everyone went still and alert as you faced the female across from you.  

“It was my understanding that the Priestesses preferred quiet in their library,” you spoke evenly as you met her gaze head on. “But if you're referring to how I refused their attempts at companionship, then yes, I have done that.”

“So you think you're better than them?” Her eyes narrowed on you. “You think they are not worth your time?”

You didn't back down from her, “I didn't say that.” 

“No, you just implied it-”

“Nesta,” Feyre warned, but her sister ignored her. 

“If that is how they felt by my actions, then I apologize.” You squared your shoulders, “but I am used to being dismissed and overlooked for my ideas and research. The other advisors didn't bother to speak or debate with me in the Day Court libraries because my interests were not theirs. I simply believed that that would be the case among the Priestesses.” 

“You didn't even give them a chance,” crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You're right, I didn't, and for that, I am sorry. Perhaps if Merrill can spare her, Gewn can assist me come Monday.” You offered the olive branch between you, “I have a great many tombs to look into and only so much time before I return to the Day Court.” 

Her shoulder seemed to relax at that as she tipped her head to the side, “You'll have to talk to Clotho about that, but I'm sure Merrill will be fine without her for a while.” 

You smiled softly at her, “Okay.” Everyone on the lawn seemed to take a collective breath as the tension between you dissolved and Cassian stepped to your side.

“Why don't we go in,” he suggested, placing one hand on the small of your back to guide you through the door. “I'm hungry and need the fuel if Nesta is gonna be starting fights all night. 

“Hmp,” Nesta's cold gaze looked over the General like he was little more than a nuisance in her vicinity, “Just because you showed up to a battle of wits unarmed does not mean I have to play nice.”

“Alright, ouch,” he shot her a weak glare, and you laughed before raising a hand to tap his cheek sweetly. 

“Don't worry,” you smiled as the male went still under your fingertips. “I brought wits to spare. I'll cover you.” 

“And what about the rest of us?” Feyre pouted as she and Rhysand led you through the house towards the dining room where Mor and Amren were waiting for you all. 

“You grew up with her,” you chuckled, taking the seat that Cassian pulled out for you. “If you haven't figured out how to handle her by now, there's no hope for you at this point.” 

“Who are we handling?” Mor asked as she bounced Nyx on her knee, the baby giggling happily. 

“Nesta is in rare form tonight,” Rhysand explained as he swept the child from her arms and raised him into the air as if he were flying. “She tried to start a fight with Y/N within minutes of her arrival.”

“I simply pointed out how rude she was to the Priestesses,” Nesta shrugged as she took her seat. 

“Fortunately, I am used to handling people who use their words to bite,” you smiled at the female, venom lacing your tone. 

Amren's grin was a thing of nightmares, “Gods it's been an age since someone interesting came to Court. Where has Helion been hiding you?” 

“Where he keeps all his most useful things,” you shrugged lightly, trying to ignore the flash of discomfort that bloomed in your chest. “The Grand Library.” 

“What's it like there?” Feyre asked dreamily as she took the seat next to Mor. “I've always been curious, but we never have time to leave the palace whenever we visit Helion.”

“It's beautiful,” you said simply as you let your memories of the Day Court cloud your vision. “Pillars of silver and gold intertwining amongst the many stacks of bookcase that hold knowledge as old and older than Prythian itself. The floors are made of clear quartz that capture and refract the light into an array of rainbows that illuminate the floor below of which there are seven. The top floor is open to the air so that the winds of Day can sweep through the mezzanine and remind us to get out of the library every now and again.” You looked to Cassian, who'd taken the seat next to you. “I think that was why time got away from me when I first arrived. There is no wind in the library below the house, not like back home.”

“And how does our collection compare to your own?” Mor asked, swirling the wine in her goblet as she crossed one golden leg over the other. “Are you finding everything you need?” 

“Just about,” you smiled softly at her, your eyes locking on to her brown ones. “There are a few tombs here that have proven quite insightful.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, “Such as?” 

“A collection of death myths and a scholar's analysis of their similarities and differences.” You shrugged, not looking away. “And the journals of fae who experience near death. Though I think speaking with Azriel will provide the most valuable information to my research.” 

“And what are you researching?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink, “My dear cousin has been incredibly tight-lipped about the reason for your visit.” 

“Mor,” Rhysand spoke from somewhere far away. His voice sounded as if you were separated by glass. By a wall of water, an ocean around just Mor and you. She was all there is. All that mattered was answering her questions.

“I'm researching death,” you said simply, something in your chest tightening. “And if, when someone comes close, do they get to make the decision if they succumb or live. I wonder if it's true what healers say when treating death blows or grave illnesses. Do their patients actually have a say, or is the concept of ‘fighting for life’ just a comforting lie we tell them to give them hope.” 

“Mor!” Someone was shouting from an ocean away, and you felt something wet trickle down your face. 

“Why would you be looking into something as depressing as that?” She tipped her head to the side, those brown eyes seeming to swallow you whole. 

“Because I need to know if it's worth it,” you whispered now, your voice becoming irrevocably brittle, “If I have a chance to live or if I should just accept that I will die.” 

Everything went quiet then. As if the universe were bracing itself for your next admission.

Even Mor’s cat-like smile fell from her face as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I'm sick,” you whispered, and the world cleaved apart. 

Part 7

[accio-sriracha]

"Will you read to me?"

A Wolfstar oneshot using 5 randomly generated words as prompts: Vehicle, Adoption, Ideology, Light, and Harp.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Remus sat on the sofa in the common room, content with the book in his hands and his tea sitting in front of him.

The boys were at quidditch practice, so he knew he would have a while to unwind and relax before-

"Honey! I'm home!" James' voice called as the portrait door swung open.

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose,

"You ended practice early?" He asked, his attempt at lightheartedness failing miserably.

"Yup! More time to spend with you, Moony dearest." Sirius climbed through after him, plopping down on the sofa beside Remus.

"Hello, Moony." Peter smiled as the portrait closed behind them, "Whatcha reading?"

Remus placed his bookmark back within the pages, "I was reading Veronica Goth."

"Isn't that the Difference series?" James asked, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him and peering over his lap at the book.

"That would be the one, yes." Remus tried not to let his irritation show.

Sirius noticed, always overly perceptive,

"Hey guys? Can I talk to Moons alone for a second?" He asked.

James shrugged, standing up and slinging his arm around Peter's shoulders,

"Sure thing, Pete and I have an exploding snaps rematch due any minute now." He smirked, dragging Peter up the stairs.

The silence that followed made Remus let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Was it the noise or just our presence?" Sirius asked after a long moment, he didn't look offended, only concerned.

Remus leaned his head back against the sofa, "Am I a terrible person if I say both?"

Sirius shook his head, "You have way too much to stress about in your life, you deserve a break to relax every now and then. You know we won't hold it against you."

"I do love you guys, I swear-" He started, the familiar guilt already weighing him down. Sirius placed a hand on his arm, stopping him,

"Remus, don't. We love you too, and we know how much you care about us. This isn't about that, it's about you getting rest."

His voice was stern, his gaze could have rivaled even McGonagall's.

"I'm sorry, I know." Remus whispered, "Thank you."

Sirius nodded and pulled his hand away, "Anytime, Moony. Really, I mean it."

Remus took a sip of his tea, which was starting to get cold. Sirius didn't have to ask, casting a warmth charm over it as Remus set it back down on the table.

"How do you always know what I'm thinking?" Remus asked, "It's like you can read my mind."

"You have very expressive eyes." Sirius answered, shrugging, "So I guess, in a way, I kind of can."

Remus smiled at him, nudging their shoulders together, "Thank you." He said again.

Sirius gestured towards the book,

"What part are you on?" He asked. Remus looked down,

"They're taking the vehicles back to Chicago." He replied, opening the book and turning it for him to see.

"Is a broomstick technically a vehicle?" Sirius asked, frowning in thought.

Remus gave a surprised laugh, "Um... well, yes. Any method of transportation is. But that only applies to our kind of broomsticks."

"So... with magic, isn't everything a vehicle?" Sirius asked, cocking his head to the side.

Remus always found it amusing when he looked like this, he truly was his animagious in every form.

"It would only be considered such after it as been given the ability to transport something, but yeah." Remus nodded, "I suppose you could say the same for adding wheels to things."

Sirius nodded, satisfied, "Will you read to me?" He asked quietly.

This surprised Remus, Sirius had never asked him that before. He nodded anyways, relaxing into the couch again and watching Sirius curl up into a ball, staring at him expectantly.

He read the first few paragraphs, glancing every other sentence at Sirius to see if he was still listening. He was.

After he'd gotten through two pages, he had to admit he was decently impressed.

"You never sit through lessons like this." Remus commented. Sirius shrugged,

"I like the way you talk." He yawned, stretching his arms over his head, "It's very relaxing."

Sirius' slow blinks and unguarded expression seemed out of place on him, he was usually so tense and ready for action.

Remus found he liked him like this, it was... sweet.

"Did you want me to continue reading?" Remus asked. Sirius nodded, adjusting himself so he leaned against Remus' shoulder, reading the page along with him,

"Yes, please." He mumbled sleepily.

Remus continued, no longer pausing to check if Sirius was paying attention.

After he'd gotten through the next few pages he was positive Sirius had fallen asleep. But then he spoke,

"Do you ever think about adoption?" He whispered. Remus looked down at him,

"Adoption?" He repeated.

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, I think it would be nice to adopt a kid."

"Why don't you want to have one yourself?" Remus asked, keeping his voice gentle so he wouldn't disturb this peace.

Sirius hummed and nuzzled closer to him, pressing his face to Remus' chest.

Remus didn't dare to breath, he waited without moving as Sirius' muffled reply came,

"I want to give someone another chance. I want to give them a better life."

Remus nodded. Carefully, slowly, he placed a hand on Sirius' back.

Sirius didn't shake him off, he only turned and wiggled closer until his head was resting in Remus' lap, curled up on his side.

Hesitantly, Remus ran a hand through Sirius' hair. He knew he shouldn't have, Sirius never let anyone touch his hair, but something in his mind told him it was the right thing to do.

And it was, Sirius let out a content sigh and closed his eyes again.

"It might be something to consider." Remus whispered, referring to their conversation. He gently combed through Sirius' hair with his fingers, amazed by how soft it was, even after they'd just gotten back from practice.

"Yeah, I mean-" He paused to yawn again, "What's the harm in it, right?"

Remus chuckled, "Well I think that phrase may have been spoiled for us now. There's usually some damage that follows it."

Sirius sighed, "Maybe. But a little more risk won't kill anyone."

Remus smiled, watching the way his expression softened and how his shoulders relaxed entirely,

"It's that kind of ideology that got us stuck in those problems in the first place." He reminded him, "But in this scenerio..."

He thought about a young child who'd been brought into the world and abandoned one way or another. He thought about giving that child a home, a new life as Sirius had put it.

"I think it's worth a little risk." He agreed.

And something about this, something about the way Sirius trusted him completely, let him touch where no would else was allowed, let him watch over him and dropped his guard when he never had before.

It made Remus feel something strange.

Sirius was... well, he was beautiful. There was never any question to that.

The way the light draped across him from the fireplace was an art of itself. Remus was- and he never thought he would describe himself as such- totally enamored.

"I think its worth it." Sirius mumbled, "I want to play songs for them and read them stories."

"You'll sing for them?" Remus asked, smiling fondly down at Sirius. He nodded,

"Yeah. When I was young my mother made me take piano lessons, and sometimes I would be taught to play the harp. So I think it would be nice if I could play for my kid someday."

"That's really nice, Sirius." Remus continued petting his hair. Eventually, Sirius turned again so he stared up at him, long black strands laid in a halo around his head,

"Can you keep reading to me?" Sirius asked quietly. Remus nodded,

"Yeah, of course." He picked up the book again, keeping his voice as soft as he could manage and starting where he left off.

Sirius fell asleep to the sound of Remus' voice and the feeling of his fingers in his hair.

Remus kept reading even after he'd fallen asleep. He was just so happy and content he didn't want it all to end.

When James and Peter came down to check on them some time later they walked out to this scene, to Remus' eyes filled with newfound love and adoration. To Sirius' smile in his sleep as he curled up in Remus' lap. The fireplace had long since died out, leaving the gentle cadence of Remus' voice to be the only sound in the room.

James and Peter took the hint, sneaking quietly back up the stairs to give them privacy, happy their friends had finally found each other.

Because they deserved it. They deserved the peace and lifetime of love they knew this relationship would bring.

On their way up the stairs, quick enough that you would miss it in a blink, James and Peter's hands exchanged a few sickles.

And never again did Sirius fall asleep to anything but the sound of Remus' voice, or the feeling of his hands combing through his hair. And that was perfectly fine by him.

[mrabubu]

MORE QUESTIONS (since i got you, i won't let you go/hj/lh).

- If Ana went to the prom night (the episode where it's leo & raph duo) What was Ana wearing? And if she went there and Leo saw her what was his reaction to her outfit/dress?

- If Ana & Leo go on adventures (or Leo dragging her in) what could their duo name be? Now that we're on this topic what could be kraang ana & f!Leo's duo name be?

- Was there anything Casey Jr taught Ana from the future? Like self-defense moves? Or something Ana taught casey jr like new food or some type of fashion?

- Was there a strong moment between Ana & Leo happened when they were teen and Leo thought "Wow! She's so cool!" Or ".. Am i... In love?"

- Did kraangfied Ana once got rid of traitors in the resistance? Like i can imagine her going surveillance mode and if anybody tried to hurt the hamatos or just betray the resistance she would go and hurt them or just... Take care of them quickly.

- What was Ana's reaction from Splinter? Like was she afraid from rats in general? Or was she okay with it? And did she envy the turtles's bond with splinter? You know comparing it with her parents?

- Is Ana the type to get bullied? If so, what would the turtles do to her bullies since she look like she won't tell anybody (from the previous answers i think she would keep it a secret).

- had Ana ever explod on Leo because of his stupidity? Like he said something that touched something sensitive in Ana and she just screamed at him with hurtful words?

- I laughed at the thought of Ana just begin invisible to Draxum as he would turn around and sees her before getting a heart attack xD

Oh boy. here we go~

For the prom night, I had an idea she would wear something white. She usually wears more dark outfits and a kepi she usually uses to hide her eyes. For the prom she would wear either a long white blouse or a short dress with shorts, and, of course, without a kepi. This would be the most "open" she ever was in front of Leo, and he would be stunned, maybe even saying that being like this suits her more.

MAN, I WOULD LOVE TO GIVE THEM LIKE A DUO NAME, BUT MY HEAD IS EMPTY((( I'll think about it, but also maybe you people have some ideas? I was given an idea of Magnetic duo, but then was told it's the name of Raph and Leo duo. Idk, maybe call Ana and Leo duo after some dish... Maybe like sugar and spice??? But tho it sounds a bit cringe.

Casey was a kid when Cassandra died, so it's more likely that Ana taught him something. I think those were more basic things, and if Imagine their relationships, I think Casey would even trying to take care of Ana in some ways, like making sure she eats and all, because Casey rarely saw Ana eating actual food because she needs blood. I just had this idea that Kraang zombies called zombies, so how can you not add the most zombie thing? Only I decided that instead of flesh she just drinks blood. Leo's blood, to be more precise.

I think this goes to this comic I made not long ago. Basically, he slowly grew to liking her because not only she was actually interesting to listen to and spend time with, she was also someone he was comfortable with. She didn't mock him or didn't have faith in him. He slowly felt more and more comfortable with her until a moment like in the comic when she would drag him into a Butterfly garden and he would be fascinated by something so simple and insignificant, and then realized that butterflies aren't the only thing that he found fascinating.

I never had an idea like this, but I can totally imagine it with how much more brutal she became after being kraangified. Basically, her more animal like instincts would be taking over her in moments like this.

She would be needing to have some time to process Splinter's existence. I don't see her as a person who would freak out from seeing a rat, more like "they're okay as long as they don't touch me", but Splinter is different, he's not entirely a rat so she would mostly be fine. I totally had thoughts that Ana would envy turtles, thinking how they don't even have a full family, no mother, no other family members, and they're happy while she has a full family, but it's like if she didn't have them not much would've changed for her. But at some point I can imagine that maybe Splinter would replace a father figure to her in the late episodes of the second season or even after it.

I think Ana would hide the fact that someone's bullying her until it gets physical, like, someone would punch her or push her and it would leave a bruise. April would be the first to notice this and then she would tell the turtles. Leo would be the first who would want to deal with those who bully Ana. Right now I had an idea that him and April (and perhaps all the other turtles) would try to make up a plan to make those bullies actually afraid of Ana, to make it look like she's as not as soft as people think she is. Maybe something like, whenever those bullies try to bully Ana again, things would go the way so in the end they would end up beaten up (not literally). And the important thing is to keep Ana oblivious. So one day she would go into school, and those who bullied her would actually apologize and look scared and Ana would just go "???".

No, not really. I don't see her as a person who would scream at anyone, at least before kraangification. Crying, avoiding, yes, but not yelling. So even if Leo would say something hurtful without even noticing, she would just close in herself. After kraangification, yeah, she could actually snap out and yell and maybe even threaten him, like pinning Leo down on the floor, baring her teeth and all.

Draxum and Ana literally be like:

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 3: Let's Talk

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,264

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: tiny flakes of lemon

My other stuff: Master List.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, matting his hair and dripping onto the glistening skin of the woman writhing underneath him.

It had been a month since Drake had taken Riley back to his room and done all the things he’d fantasized about for so long. She’d come back the next day and the day after that.

And then she’d gone back to being friendly and polite, but nothing more.

Until tonight.

Though he had been determined to demand a conversation, all his resolve had crumbled the moment he’d opened his door to find her standing on the other side.

He had given in to her so easily, and now her legs were wrapped around his waist, her nails sunk into the tanned flesh of his shoulder blades, and his cock was buried deep inside her.

His name fell from her lips as she shuddered beneath him, and he slammed into her one last time, sending streams of milky hot liquid erupting into her.

He nuzzled into the side of her neck as he caught his breath, unwilling to move off her just yet.

He wasn’t ready for this to be over.

He breathed in the scent of lilac and lavender mingled with sweat and sex. His tongue and lips trailed down her supple skin, the taste salty and sweet.

She made approving noises at first, but then she pushed at him to get him to roll off her. “It’s hot and you’re sweaty.”

“So are you.” He countered, but he complied by dropping his body onto the mattress next to her.

“Yes, I know. I need to borrow your shower.”

The unspoken part hung in the air between them. She couldn’t go back to her husband reeking of sex.

They lay side by side for several long minutes; him searching her face for something he couldn’t quite find.

Part of him was afraid of scaring her away, but a bigger part needed to know what was going on. He couldn’t face the prospect of her leaving and him not knowing if or when he’d see her again. “Listen, Riley. We need to talk.”

“About?”

“What we’re doing here.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Haha. Seriously. Listen. I know I have a reputation, Riley, but—”

She cut him off with an incredulous laugh. “You say that like it’s not a well-deserved reputation. You’ve been with a lot of women!”

He blew out a breath of frustration. “I have been with a lot of women, but—”

“It’s okay, Drake. You’re safe.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t do relationships, and I’m not asking you for one. I get it.”

“No, you don’t!” He shot upright, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back. “I want a relationship, Riley!”

She gave him a puzzled look as she shifted her body into the same cross-legged sitting position he had settled into. “No, you don’t. In the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never dated the same woman for more than a few weeks. And it’s not for lack of opportunity. They throw themselves at you. I’ve seen it.”

His eyes searched her face for any trace of jealousy. “Does that bother you?”

Her brows furrowed momentarily. “What?”

“The women, Riley!” He exploded. “Do you care, even a little, when you see me with someone else?”

He read nothing but confusion in her eyes as she shook her head, “Why would you think—”

“Because it fucking kills me every time I see you with Liam, that’s why! I thought it was just me, all one-sided, but then you… this happened…” he gestured between them.

“What are you saying, Drake?”

“I’m saying that I want a fucking relationship, Riley, but the woman I want it with married my best friend!”

“I…I didn’t know…” she looked stricken.

His voice went quiet as he asked, “Is that why you didn’t give me the courtesy of a heads-up before you got engaged?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god, Drake! I had no idea that you ever had feelings like that for anyone, much less for me!”

“Yeah, well, I am in ample possession of plenty of feelings… I just don’t see the point of sharing them with most people.”

“I don’t know what to say. I never knew you felt that way.”

“Why did you think that night happened?”

“Um…. Because you’re Drake Walker and you sleep with anyone and everyone?”

“I do not!”

She arched her eyebrows.

“Okay, I have been around the block a time or two, but do you really think I would have slept with someone Liam was interested in if I didn’t have genuine feelings for them?”

She twirled a loose strand of hair around a fingertip as she considered that. “I mean…we had been drinking, so I chalked it up to that.”

“Would it have made a difference if I’d told you how I felt?”

“Back then? No.” She had been too in love with Liam to give serious consideration to anyone else.

“And now?”

“Drake…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. I assumed this was just fun and games for you. You know I love Liam. I married him!”

His eyes squeezed shut, pain swirling through him. His voice was clipped as he bit out, “Then why are you here?”

Her gaze drank him in as she considered whether or not to confide in him. One look into his misery-filled eyes convinced her that he was never going to use anything she told him against her.

She could trust him.

Her eyes were trained on her fingers as they twisted the edge of the sheet. Drawing a shaky breath, she admitted, “I can’t remember the last time Liam touched me.”

Drake went still as a soft, “Ah.” slipped from his lips.

She looked up, stunned at the tone she detected in his voice. “You’re not surprised.”

He sighed, unwilling to divulge Liam’s secrets no matter how in love he was with Riley. He hadn’t known they weren’t sleeping together, but in light of the information, he did know exactly why.

Seeing a possible way out without lying, he opted for a truth that wasn’t the whole truth. “I didn’t realize that you two weren’t…. I mean…” a crimson flush crawled up his neck and spread across his face as he stumbled over his words.

For the first time since they started this serious conversation, Riley laughed. It was a short, ironic laugh. She reached for his hand. “Geeze, Drake, after what we just did, are you really afraid to use words like sleeping together? Having sex?” She leaned closer with a hint of provocation lacing her voice. “Fucking?”

The flush went a shade deeper. “Riley!”

Her eyes traced across his face in pleased astonishment. Drake Walker, a known lothario, had somehow regressed into a skittish schoolboy because of her.

She couldn’t repress the smile or the soft laugh that burst out of her at the realization. Her fingers flew to her lips to try to cover it, but he noticed.

“Fuck!” He dropped his face into his hands to hide it from her. “I’m sorry for acting like an idiot.”

“No,” she reached out and gently pried his hands away from his face. “I like this new side of you.”

“Really?” He lifted his head and gazed at her with such tender hope and tortured longing that her heart stuttered in her chest, and butterflies exploded through her.

Well, shit.

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

[beansricejc]

John Wick x F!Reader - I Know We Can’t

a/n: I wrote this blurb in like 10 minutes in the crumbl cookies parking lot, it’s based off of an interaction I had with my own bf last night so hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, mentions of medical issues, blood, dry humping , 585 words (shortest one so far lol)

The way John misses you is like no other. No other previous partner has given you anything comparable to what John gives you.

You’ve been having girly issues as of lately. And one of the stipulations of your issues, per your OBGYN, was no sexual intercourse, until further notice. Of course John’s been struggling a bit with this but is always the most supportive and living partner anyone could dream of having.

But one night he gets home from a job, it’s a job that has taken four days, and has stressed him out beyond belief.

You’re in the bedroom folding laundry when you hear his heavy footsteps trudge through the door.

“Oh, hey-“

John’s blood stained hands snatch you by the waist, which is covered only by your small tank top and underwear that you’re currently wearing. You don’t get to finish your sentence since his lips have already smashed into yours, his tongue violating the inside of your mouth before he shoves you onto your king sized bed.

The way he saw your backside for a few seconds when he walked down the hallway was enough to make him explode. The curves of your body are something he’s always held dear to his heart, and you don’t even have to try to be sexy, you just naturally are.

Your back crashed into the mattress below, as his palms pressed into your hip bones. Of course he’s hard, you don’t even have to ask. You feel his shaft twitch and press against his pants, and he’s digging it into your clothed core, which is getting a bit wet with arousal.

“I know we can’t. I know,” John hisses after he detaches his lips, his slick forehead laying against your own. The mere size of him when he’s on top of you, you’re about a foot shorter than him, and it shows. He’s obsessed with how petite you are compared to him.

“But fuck, you wouldn’t believe how bad I want to. To just fuck the everlasting shit out of you.” John finishes his sentence, he’s still grinding his hips, his covered erection still rubbing against your cunt. The friction alone might send him over the edge, along with the stifled little mews that are pouring from your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t be.”

He digs his nails into your hips, as he does a thrusting motion again, simulating the act as if you actually were. You gasp at the sudden action, biting your tongue to remind yourself that you can’t, doctors orders.

John stops for a moment, letting out a soft grunt at the sight of you.

You. Sprawled out under him on top of your shared comforter. Tank top lifted a bit on your soft torso, your boy shorts hugging your ass and hips and giving him the perfect amount of visual tease that he’s looking for.

John’s hands still have blood on them. You don’t ask, you know it’s not smart to. Especially not at the moment.

They wander, touching every curve, crevice, and beauty mark that makes you, well, you.

“You know how much I crave you? You know how fucking ecstatic I am that you’re mine?” John asks in a grumbly tone, the words sending a chill down your spine.

You don’t even care about the crimson smearing on your bare skin, no, you just care about him at the moment.

“Just be ready, Princess, because when I’m inside you next, you won’t be able to sit right for days.”

[officeofcommanderfox]

Given the events of Ch 3 how about Prompt 45? Thanks guys!

Thanks so much for the ask! Since chapter 4 was already in the works when your ask came in, yours is now our chapter 5. We hope you enjoy it!!

The Commander and the Civvie, Chpt. 5

Fic Main | Previous Chpt

Pairing: Commander Fox x female reader

Rating: T (teen)

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of injury, past betrayal

Prompt: 45. “If I have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode.”

The colour in Fox’s cheeks finally returned, now that he was finally discharged from the hospital and back to the office. 

It felt good to be back in the office and no longer looking at the same four walls. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was nice having Fox back in the office. It had felt odd not having him around, and although you tried to be there at the hospital as often as you could, once he woke up he was adamant you return to the office. 

Thorn stood in front of your desk, “Hey, mesh’la.”

“Hey Thorn, what’s up?”

“You got a second?” 

“Until he decides to call me in,” you tilted your head at the way his helmet stared at you, you could've sworn his brows were furrowed, “Thorn, everything okay?” 

“Before Fox got injured, he asked me to do a background check on you.” 

Your heart stopped for a second, “Oh.”

Thorn tapped the data pad against his other hand, “Mesh'la, you and I both know what's in here.” He held it up, “I know my brother, and I'd like to think I'm a fairly good judge of character. So… despite what it alludes to here, I have seen for myself over the past month how trustworthy, reliable, and hard-working you are. I've seen how much you value this job, how much it means to you and how you do your best to look after us. So I'm going to give you two options. Either I can go and talk to Fox first, tell him what I found or… we can go together and you tell him what happened. But if you hold anything back, I'll take over.” 

“So… you don't trust me.”

“That's not what I'm saying. I do trust you. However, you're not ignorant about why Fox got hurt. You know why he was acting off that day, or am I wrong?” 

You let out a sigh, your face dropping into your hands, “No, I knew about the hit. I just … I didn't know how to tell you guys.” 

“Well the least you can do now is tell Fox everything. If you promise me you won't hold anything back, I'll leave you and Fox to talk alone.”

You nodded shifting your head until you locked eyes with his visor, “Yeah. I promise. I won't hold back.”

Thorn gave a curt nod, “Good. Let's go.” He held his hand out directing you to Fox’s office. 

The tension in Fox's office felt suffocating, as you realized after this moment, the way Fox, Thorn, and everyone else in the department looked at you could change permanently. They would likely be suspicious of you and with good reason. 

“What brings you both here?” Fox asked as he sipped his caf, his helmet on the edge of his desk.

“I have the background report you wanted on mesh'la here.” Thorn tilted his head towards you, “However, I thought it'd be best if you heard it from her first.” He passed the datapad to Fox. “I'll leave you two to talk.” He stepped out letting the silence settle between you and Fox.

Fox let out a soft sigh through his nose as he turned the datapad in his hands.

“How do you want to do this? Tell me first or should I read what it says here and you fill in the blanks.”

He motioned for you to take a seat, noticing you were hesitating to open up. 

“Starlight, whatever happens, whatever I'm gonna learn, it won't affect how much I respect you. I have seen how passionate you are about this job. How much you try your best and how you made an effort to get to know me better even when I purposefully made your life difficult. So talk to me.” 

There was a slight pause, as you contemplated his statement before nodding. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves,

“There's really not much to who I am, and when you read the background you'll see I'm mostly a model citizen.”

“What do you mean by mostly?”

“Well, it has to do with the reason I no longer work at the bank.” 

“What, you tried to rob it?” He chuckled at his own joke, only for it to die on his lips as his eyes took in your somewhat guilty appearance. “Wait. You tried to rob a bank?” 

“No.” You looked at him, sternly. “I had nothing to do with that; not… not directly, at least.” 

Fox robbed his forehead as he tried to put the pieces together, “Okay. So … what happened?” 

You let out another sigh as you shifted in your seat, “You know I worked security at the bank. Administrative stuff, some overseeing, but mostly keeping track of who worked what shift, how many people were on, making sure maintenance crews had the proper clearance. Because of that I usually met the new recruits first, getting them to fill out their forms, having their pictures done and fingerprints scanned, so they could have their IDs. Well, a few months before everything happened, I… I met someone.” 

“You met someone?” 

You nodded fidgeting with your hand, “I mean… he was nice, sweet, funny, he… he even had this killer smile.” As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips as you remember your first encounters with Rian.

For some reason, the idea that you're smiling about this man created a knot in Fox's stomach. Why should he care that you met someone? Or that you apparently liked this man? 

“Who was he?”

“Rian. Rian Guthrie.” The smile falls from your lips as you mention his name, “It…” you let out a scoff, “It wasn't one of my finest moments, as it would turn out.” 

“What happened?” 

“Let me begin by stating I dated him for about a month, before everything went to crap in my life.” 

The fact that Fox and his brothers were somehow included in that ‘everything went to crap’ part of her life stung more than he cared to admit.

“I… I guess I was too head over heels for him, and didn't realize he was using me. He used my access to gain information about security rotations, vault passcodes, background information…” you rubbed your forehead as you let out a sigh, “He used my access, my reputation, my good name to plan a bank heist. When I discovered what he was doing, I was horrified and I contacted the CSF right away. They began an investigation into Rian, but they asked me to keep dating him, they didn’t want him to become suspicious and disappear. When they finally moved in and arrested him, they found out he was involved with the Black Sun.” 

“Kriff.”

“Yeah. Anyway he tried to put the blame on me. Said it was my idea, my connections that got him involved. I mean it was all nonsense and obviously he was lying but…” 

“Neither the bank nor the CSF could just take your word for it.” 

“Nope. And to make matters worse somehow the Black Sun learned I was the one who snitched. Eventually the CSF cleared me, but my reputation was ruined and so was my career. I lost my job, and most of my friends. The only job I could get afterwards was this one, and that was all thanks to the detective on my case. He was also the one who warned me about the hit taken out on me. He saw how much my life had been screwed over because of Rian, and he wanted to help me out not only with getting this job but just forewarning me of potential dangers. I've had to move three times already, for safety sake.” 

“Kark me” Fox ran his hands through his hair, “That's… that's intense.” 

“I am so sorry,” tears welled up in your eyes as the guilt you had been feeling since Fox got shot overwhelmed you. “I should've told you sooner. I should've…” your head dropped into your hands. 

Fox couldn't stand seeing you cry, he knew how much his injury had been weighing on your mind. It wasn't hard to guess or figure out after the way you took care of him. He stood from his seat and walked over to you, gently wrapping his arms around you as he kneeled. “I've never hugged anyone before so… I hope this is okay.” 

You nodded as you rested your head on his shoulder, hugging him back. It was a tad uncomfortable because of the armour, but you wouldn't have it any other way. 

“I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry that someone decided to use you, instead of seeing how amazing you really are.”

“I'm not amazing. I'm an idiot.” You didn't shift to look at him, just kept hugging him, tears falling on his plastoid armour. 

“You're not an idiot. He was a liar and conned you. That's not your fault.” Fox leaned back to look at your face, his forefinger gently wiping the tears, “What happened after he conned you is not your fault. And maybe you hate working here and you hate being around me and my men, but we love having you here.” 

“I don't hate working here or your men or you. Working here has saved me. It’s made me feel like I wasn't completely pathetic.” 

“Starlight, you're not pathetic. You're a woman who got caught up in a romance and hoped for happiness. That's how con artists work. They shower you with affection, giving you hope that you found the right one. You're not pathetic. You're… you're amazing and one hell of a secretary.” 

You let out a light chuckle, as you wiped your tears, “Guess I passed probation.” 

His laughter joined yours, “Starlight, you passed probation the moment you bought me caf and treats.” 

You smirked and nodded, “Glad to hear it.”

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn't easy.” 

“Thank you for being… understanding.” 

“Always, Starlight. Now why don't you go and fix yourself up before anyone else sees?” 

You nodded standing up as he helped you, “Fox… I do mean it. Working here, meeting you and your brothers… you guys have saved me, and not just literally.” You tapped his chest plate over his heart and gave him a soft smile, before turning to go. 

Fox smiled as he looked at you, watching you walk away. He let out a sigh as he was left alone in the office, “You saved me too, Starlight,” He whispered.

His eyes didn't look away as you meandered through the path of desks and people to the refreshers. He sat at his desk, closing his eyes for a second, ‘my Starlight’, he called you in his mind.

“You okay?”

Fox opened his eyes to see Thorn standing there and leaning against the doorframe, “Yeah. It was a heavy conversation. And I'll need to confirm what she told me but, if I have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode.” 

“Understandable, vod. Why don't you relax for a bit, before the Chancellor starts calling you in for meetings.” 

Fox nodded, closing his eyes again, his fist clenched against his thighs. He was going to keep you safe, and he was going to make sure you never got hurt again.

Send Commander Fox an ask to continue the story!

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[jungle-angel]

The Nurse Will See You Now (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Your nursing final is tomorrow and you need a patient. Thankfully, your husband is into roleplaying. GIANT SMUT WARNING, 18+ ONLY< MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!

Tagging: @sebsxphia​

You made your way up the stairs, still in your neon blue scrubs and ready to call it a day. Your anxiety was rammed up to eleven and Bob could see it from the moment you walked in the door. 

You flopped right into bed, letting out a groan that made Bob tug at his pants just a little. “You good babes?” he asked. 

“My nursing final is tomorrow and we have to perform a full body physical,” you answered. “My head’s gonna explode.” 

Bob made a little pouty face, feeling awful that the two part exam was driving you up the wall. “Do you wanna practice?” 

You groaned and held a pillow over your ear, rolling over at the mere thought of having to practice. “(Y/n) if we don’t practice, you’re not gonna pass.” 

“Good, then I can stay home,” you chuckled. 

Bob kissed your cheek. “How long does the practical part take?” he asked. 

“About a half hour.” 

“And dinner is set in the oven for an hour,” Bob said with a grin. “How much you wanna bet we can do it in half the time?” 

You smiled and wiggled your eyebrows a little. “Let’s do it.” 

You smoothed out the sheets on the bed and in no time at all, you and Bob were both ready. You entered and introduced yourself, just as you would have in the facility, but quickly noticed the wicked little grin on Bob’s face as you asked the basic questions. 

“Alright Mr. Floyd,” you said, marking off the paper on your clipboard. “Let’s see how the nodes are. Tilt your chin up for me a little please.”

You listened to the little purr in his throat as your fingertips gently felt the nodes in his jaw and neck to see if they were swollen. Bob sneakily kissed your cheek as you felt the nodes in his armpits, the blush running into your cheeks and throughout your whole body. 

“Need I remind you about nurse/patient boundaries?” you chuckled. 

“Right, right, sorry,” Bob stammered. 

“Alright, nodes are good, no swelling,” you remarked as you marked it off on your clipboard. “Can you take your shirt off for me?” 

“You mind buying me dinner first?” Bob asked with a grin. 

You scrunched your eyebrows together, your jaw hanging open as though a laugh was going to escape at any given minute. “Mr. Floyd!” 

Bob laughed cheekily as he pulled his phone from his back pocket, hitting play on Spotify before he began stripping off his shirt. The minute you heard Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” playing from Bob’s phone, you snorted. “You are being such a shithead right now!” 

“Am I?” Bob asked cheekily. 

“C’mon, get your shirt off.” 

Bob tossed his shirt right into the wicker laundry basket near the bed, his eyebrows raising slightly when he noticed you turning red again. He could feel his nips getting hard as the cold metal of the stethoscope hit his chest, especially when it went to his ribcage just below, barely centimeters from his sensitive nip. His head turned just slightly, his heartbeat getting louder and a little faster, yet you couldn’t figure out why. 

“You ok?” 

Bob hummed and when it finally hit you, it took everything in your power not to smack him on the back of the head. “Will you stop looking at my cleavage?!” you blurted out. 

“But they look so soft,” he cooed. 

You groaned before you told him to take a deep breath, listening to his lungs for any crackling or wet mucous that had built up and to your relief, there was none. 

“Lungs look good,” you told him. “Mind laying on your back?” 

“As long as you’re on top of me,” Bob chuckled. 

You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your laughter hidden. Bob did as he was asked and laid on his back, his arms at his sides and the cheeky little grin of his growing wider. You could feel his skin growing warm as your hand very gently massaged his belly, feeling for anything that might be out of the ordinary. 

“Lower,” Bob murmured. 

Your hand went a little lower. 

“Keep going, a little lower.” 

Your hand went a little lower than before but when your hand came dangerously close to his cock, you jumped right on top of him, straddling his waist before you delivered a few sound smacks to the shoulders, leaving Bob a hysterically laughing mess. 

““You little shithead!” you half shouted, half laughed. “If I fail this final, it’s on you!” 

Bob very gently grabbed your hips and pulled them a little closer, sitting himself up before he kissed both of your cheeks and then your lips. “You won’t,” he cooed. “You’ll be the best damn nurse in Fightertown.”

You felt his arms wrap around you, your head coming to rest on his naked chest. The gentle beat of his heart grew louder when your head lay still, echoing in your ear as his warmth radiated to you. Bob tilted your chin up so that your gazes became locked together, his kiss burning against your lips like fire. 

You felt his hands roaming along your sides and up the small of your back, never once breaking the kiss. Bob trailed his lips from your own, along your jaw, to your neck and down your collarbone to your breasts. “So soft,” he murmured. “Wanna stick my head there and rest.” 

You giggled a little, feeling the baby soft skin on his jaw going lower and lower, kissing any exposed skin he could get at. “Ok Bob,” you squeaked. “You win this round.”

“Good,” Bob chuckled as he tugged at your matching scrub pants and your underwear all at once. “Because now it’s your turn for a physical Mrs. Floyd.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as he buried his face between your legs. Your moans and soft whimpers were music to Bob’s ears as he tried to memorize every last part of you. He was right. You were going to be the best damn nurse Fightertown had ever seen.