#all i have for her is that i want her to be exactly like 3 inches taller than her

[lananiscorner]

Coldest hot take that ever took, but if people can understand the meaning of the word "nostalgia" and the sentiment of "god, remember when we were kids and our biggest worry in the world was whether we could have ice cream for dessert after dinner?", then they should be able to understand the urge to consume something that hearkens back to a time when the world seemed simpler (it never was, you just had adults taking over lots of shit for you and shielding you from the worst, ideally). A time when it was good enough for you to just exist and have fun and maybe learn about the importance of courage and friendship and kindness.

Also, I think a lot of the stigma around adults consuming media for kids is that puritanical panic around "but what if these adults are gonna corrupt/groom/abuse our kids???" to which all I can say is:

1) adults who want to do that will find a way to do it even without watching My Little Pony or Steven Universe or whatever.

2) Not every adult who consumes media for kids is a pedo. See the entire topic of this post.

3) You SHOULD want your kids to interact in spaces where there are adults around as well, because learning how to interact with people who are not the same age/ethnicity/affiliation as you is actually a really important life skill.

4) It will help them learn what healthy interactions with adult strangers look like, which will make it easier for them to notice when an interaction is not healthy (e.g. why is this one user so eager to get a picture of what I'm wearing today, none of the others have ever asked me for that).

5) By having adult strangers around that are not affiliated with their parents in any way, they will have someone to reach out to in case they are actually, in real life, being groomed or abused by someone they don't trust to report to their parents (e.g. dad's best friend, mom's sister, the teacher both their parents get along with so well, etc.)

"Fun" trivia: Many years ago, my mom and I used to be part of a massive anime forum/art posting site where the average age was something like 13 or so, and thanks to both of us commenting on art work a lot, we became "that one nice lady who always says what she likes about my art" and eventually "the one nice lady who's been nice enough for long enough that I want to DM her". And you would not believe the sheer amount of kids we ran into who lived in very troubled (and sometimes seriously dangerous) homes, who did not feel safe talking to their parents and who sometimes had no frame of reference for how stuff that RL adults did to them was wrong until they interacted with us in comments and DMs and realized what healthy interactions with adults at a respectful distance looked like.

Trying to remove adults who are not being creeps from fandoms for media for kids helps exactly no one other than the actual creeps who will simply pretend that they are 12 themselves.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[lightseoul]

a/n. might turn this one into a drabble series if people like it. alternatively, i have a one-shot idea that shares similar themes with whatever this is. dedicated to my psych degree that i may never finish. (0.4k)

bakugou doesn’t notice you at first.

in his defense, looking for girls wasn’t exactly part of his itinerary whenever he visited his therapist’s building. and if it was?

well, doing that in a mental health institution wouldn’t exactly be his first pick.

not that he is looking for someone.

rising speedily through the ranks as a pro-hero came with more and more tasks and responsibilities by the day, and as much as he wanted to downplay the weight of such endeavors, he’d be lying if he said the exhaustion wasn’t getting to him.

he’s barely making enough time to make room for his weekly therapist appointments. how can he possibly squeeze in dating into his already jam-packed schedule?

in fact, that was the point he was trying to make to his psychologist a few minutes ago who, in turn, countered his theory by broaching the plausibility of it being an avoidant technique to mask his inexperience, when time ran out and the session had to be put to a close. as always, she tied the session neatly with her spiel about them picking up where they left off next week, and then the pro-hero was already up and exiting her office.

“fucking plausibility,” he mutters to himself just as the door closes behind him, hefting the duffel bag that he carried all the way from his agency higher on his shoulders.

and really, he was about to turn to the right so he could take a piss before driving home when the door beside the restroom creaks open. now, he’s never seen any other client in his few years of face-to-face consultations, which was weird but not entirely inconceivable. so he finds it pretty excusable when he finds himself pausing, craning to hear the soft mutters emanating from the inside—not that eavesdropping on someone else’s psych appointment is fun—then immediately straightening up when a body emerges from the crack.

his first instinct is to instantly dash towards the comfort room like he wasn’t just standing there like a nosy idiot, but instead, he finds himself frozen when his eyes dart up and meet yours.

what did that proverb say again? all pretty girls are mentally ill?

he can only watch—immobile—as your eyes widen in recognition because, of course, you’d recognize him. not that he’s being fucking cocky; in fact, he’d much rather you did not identify him—fresh out of therapy, no less—but he’s aware that his reputation, unfortunately, precedes him. his reputation of being this aggressive, no-nonsense, brash pro-hero.

which is why he doesn’t fucking understand why he does the next thing.

he lifts his hand and blurts—

“hi.”

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

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK

you can’t wait to show your boyfriend the lingerie you bought — kinda nsfw

— drabble based on this ask !!

wc: 2.4k+

note: i’m so sorry it took me this long 🥲 but yay, it’s finally here!! wanted to keep this a little shorter, like 1.5k-ish words but i js couldn't help myself write a little more hehe— enjoy the silly, sexy moments <3 check the ask for warnings if you need them lolol love all of my owiu readers out there !! 🤍

ever since you started dating jungkook, life has felt... lighter.

it’s not that the stress is gone, there are still challenges ahead of you, but one thing that keeps you grounded is knowing your boyfriend will always be there for you.

like today, when he insisted on taking you out because you’ve been working so hard lately.

you’re out with jungkook and a group of your friends; yoongi, jimin, taehyung and his girlfriend hina, and jin with his wife da-eun. these are the people you’ve grown close to, thanks to jungkook encouraging you to meet them. you didn’t have many friends before, but now you do who you're thankful for.

and you’re especially grateful for hina and da-eun. hina, the same age as you, is a bundle of energy, while da-eun, a few years older, is a calming presence. even tho they're different than you, they still, just.. get you.

the day started at a museum; jin and yoongi’s idea. it was calm and peaceful, exactly what you needed.

jungkook stayed by your side the whole time, his arm draped around your shoulders or your waist, leaning in to whisper sweet things to you. and okay, maybe he sneaked you into an empty storage room for a heated makeout session, but that’s beside the point.

it was still peaceful.

next came the arcade, a suggestion from jimin and taehyung. while the guys, especially jungkook, went wild with the games, you and the others enjoyed watching. yoongi’s consistent losing streak provided endless laughs, and the chaos turned into pure fun.

when jungkook noticed that the guys had been dominating the day’s plans, he suggested letting the women choose the next stop. naturally, hina, da-eun, and you all agreed on shopping, much to the guys’ amused groans.

now, you’re at the mall, wandering through the shops. the energy of the place, with its bright displays and bustling crowd, somehow lifts your spirits.

“i literally don’t want anything,” jimin says, stifling a yawn.

“i might grab something,” taehyung adds, his eyes darting to the plushie section. you can’t help but think it’s for hina. she told you loves collecting them, even showed you her collection.

you, on the other hand, have just one plushie from childhood, but you get the appeal. plushies are adorable.

“i really wanna buy some cute clothes!” hina exclaims, her excitement contagious as taehyung pulls her close with a chuckle.

“me too,” da-eun says with a smile, glancing at jin, who nods in agreement.

“what about you, babe?” jungkook asks, looking down at you with that soft gaze of his.

“me three!” you grin, and the group laughs.

“well, let’s head to the women’s section i gues—” jimin begins, but hina cuts him off sharply.

“men are not allowed.”

the guys blink in confusion.

“huh?” they say in unison.

“why can’t we come? it’s just a clothes section,” taehyung protests, crossing his arms.

“because we’re having girls’ time, right?” hina says, looking to you and da-eun for backup.

“absolutely,” da-eun replies without hesitation.

you nod with a smile.

“but i thought i could help pick something for—” jungkook starts, his hand still on your waist, but da-eun interrupts him.

“girls’ time!” she declares, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. jungkook is left standing there, sulking like a kid whose toy has been taken away.

“i’m okay with that,” yoongi says, almost like a deadpan. “plus, i need to sit down. my legs are killing me.”

“same here. you girls enjoy,” jin adds, planting a kiss on da-eun’s forehead.

“all right, grandpas, let’s find you a bench,” jimin says with an eye roll, leading yoongi and jin away. taehyung pauses to kiss hina on the cheek and whispering ‘have fun’ before following them.

jungkook stays rooted in place, looking like he’s waiting for something.

you cup his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “see you later, babe.”

he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit, and you chuckle before turning to join the girls. behind you, jungkook slowly trails after the guys, shaking his head with a smile.

now it’s just you, hina, and da-eun in the women’s section, sifting through racks of clothes and chatting about everything.

“i am so glad we can take our time now and let the boys wait. i don’t even like museums,” hina huffs, sorting through a pile of clothes alongside you and da-eun.

you and da-eun chuckle, shaking your heads.

“look, this is cute. it matches your aesthetic too!” you say, holding up a light pink mini dress.

“and it looks like it would fit you perfectly,” da-eun adds with a smile.

hina’s eyes light up as she takes the dress. “i’m gonna try this on right now!” she squeals, rushing off which makes you both smile.

you and da-eun continue browsing. she picks out a few outfits while you grab some comfy clothes and a few dresses. as you glance around, your eyes land on the lingerie section nearby.

one particular set catches your attention; a lacy, red, and very explicit set that makes your cheeks warm just thinking about it. it’s the kind of thing you’d love to wear for jungkook.

you blink, trying to shake the thought, but da-eun’s voice from behind startles you. “you should buy it.”

you flinch a little and chuckle nervously. “what? no, i was just looking.”

da-eun smiles knowingly. “do you not like it?”

you look at it again and you sigh, giving in. “i love it,” you admit.

before she can respond, hina comes bounding back with the pink dress in her hands, her face glowing. “you guys were right, it fits perfectly, and i love ittt!”

you and da-eun smile at her.

“i sent a pic to tae, and he’s already drooling.” she chuckles before continuing, “what about you, da-eun? are you gonna get that pretty, sexy dress you were looking at?” hina teases with a laugh.

“obviously!” da-eun says with a grin. then both of them turn their attention to you.

“what about you, ___?” hina asks excitedly. “did you pick anything... spicyy?”

you glance awkwardly at da-eun, who grins mischievously and subtly points hina towards the lingerie display. hina gasps dramatically, her eyes widening.

“that is so fucking hot! oh my god, you should totally get that, ___. please, please, please!” hina exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands, a little flustered.

“i’m getting that one.”

“oh my gosh, i missed food!” jimin gasps dramatically, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

the eight of you are seated in a cozy restaurant, wrapping up the day with dinner after hours of fun. the table is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone enjoying their meals. the couples sit side by side, exchanging sweet moments, which jimin predictably calls out.

“ugh, get a room, all of you!” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“honestly, yes, get a fucking room. you’re all just rubbing it in that i’m single,” yoongi adds with a dry chuckle, making everyone laugh.

you’re beside jungkook, his hand intertwined with yours under the table. his thumb lazily rubs soft circles on your skin while he chats with yoongi about something. you’re barely paying attention to their conversation because all you can think about is how ridiculously fucking good he looks right now.

he’s not even trying, just sitting there in a simple shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and yet he’s got your mind wandering to... other things.

speaking of other things, you think about the clothes you bought earlier, the lingerie and a few silky nightdresses that were too beautiful to resist. the thought of showing them to him makes your heart race.

gently, you slip your hand out of his hold and place it on his thigh. his conversation falters as he glances at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s silently asking, ‘what’s wrong?'

you shake your head, smiling softly. his lips curve into a small, confused smile, but he goes back to talking.

you wait for the right moment, checking to make sure no one’s paying attention, and then let your hand slide a little higher.

that gets his full attention.

his gaze snaps to your hand, now dangerously close to a place you know will drive him insane. his jaw tightens, and you can see the realization in his eyes— he knows exactly what you’re doing.

leaning in, he brings his lips close to your ear, his voice low and deep. “if you keep doing that, i might have to take you home right now.”

you smile teasingly, leaning closer to whisper, “what are you talking about, jeon? i’m doing nothing.” your hand retreats, as if you’re completely innocent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

you pick up the drink infront of you, sipping on it with a teasing smile.

he shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but you can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head— thoughts about exactly what he wants to do to you later.

. . .

soon, the evening winds down, and everyone begins saying their goodbyes.

“this was fun. we should do this more often,” taehyung says, and everyone nods in agreement.

as you’re saying goodbye to hina and da-eun, you notice the way they giggle at you, their eyes glinting with... mischief. you smile knowingly, already guessing what’s on their minds.

“what? what’s going on?” jin asks, looking at da-eun curiously.

she simply smiles at him and says, “just girlie things.”

jin frowns slightly, still confused, but lets it go with a soft laugh.

“okay then, let's go home.”

the door barely shuts behind you before jungkook has you pressed against it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so desperate it leaves you breathless. his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his body presses against yours.

you kiss him back with equal intensity, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him down, but then you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“wait,” you whisper, your breathing uneven.

“wait?” his voice is low, and he looks at you like he’s already losing his patience.

you nod, smiling as you try to calm your racing heart. “i want to show you the clothes i bought today.”

he groans, throwing his head bacm dramatically. “right now?”

“you’ll like it, i promise.” you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed

“stay here,” you instruct, pointing at him before disappearing into the closet

he watches you go, running a hand through his hair, still trying to cool down.

a few moments later, you step out wearing a long, dark purple dress that hugs your body in all the right places. the fabric flows down gracefully, and the color makes your skin glow.

jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, his eyes raking over you with awe. “you look... fuck.. wow. so pretty.”

you twirl slightly, letting the fabric swish around you. “you like it?”

“baby, you look so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, sitting up straighter.

smiling, you step back into the closet and reappear moments later in another dress— this time, it’s a bit shorter, hitting just above your knees, with a soft floral design. jungkook grins, biting his lip as he watches you show it off.

“okay, this one’s cute,” he says, his eyes never leaving you.

you keep going, the dresses getting shorter and more... bold. when you step out in a sleek, silky black mini nightdress that barely reaches mid-thigh, jungkook groans, leaning back on his hands like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“what?” you ask innocently, moving a little, the skirt of your dress swishing just enough to tease him.

he watches you, his gaze following your every move, filled with love— and something much darker, much hungrier. “do a little twirl for me, baby,” he says, his voice dropping even lower.

you smirk and twirl, biting your lip when you see the way his jaw tightens.

“are you done yet?” he finally asks, his tone laced with desperation. “because if i don’t touch you soon, i might fucking lose my mind.”

you laugh softly, walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “one more, please?”

he grabs your waist in an instant, pulling you close until you’re straddling his lap, his warm hands settling on your hips. “fine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, “but only after you give me a kiss.”

you tilt your head down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft but full of promise. after a few seconds, you pull back, grinning. “you’re gonna love this,” you whisper before slipping off his lap and disappearing into the closet again.

jungkook leans back on the bed, exhaling, trying to control himself. but when you don’t return right away, he shifts impatiently, standing up to pace the room.

when you finally walk out, he’s stops mid-step. he freezes, his eyes widening as they take you in.

you’re wearing the red lingerie set, the delicate lace barely there, with rope-like straps wrapping around your body. small red heart-shaped details covering the parts he really wants to see right now.

he stares at you, his lips parting slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh.. fuck.” he mutters, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

you walk towards him slowly, swaying your hips just a little. “what do you think babe?”

he doesn’t answer right away, too busy drinking in the sight of you. when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “i think i just died and went to heaven.”

you stop in front of him, chuckling softly as your fingers trailing up his chest. “i told you you’d love it.”

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his grip on you firm as if he’s trying to stop himself from losing control. “c'mere”

you smile, letting him pull you closer.

“all this for me?” he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hands trail down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands, pulling you even closer.

“all for you,” you whisper, your lips barely hovering over his, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

that’s all it takes for him to snap. his lips crash into yours fiercely.

and this time, there’s no holding back.

a/n: ...wish i can show yall the lingerie pic but idk if it's allowed habahabaohw

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @minaateez @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

NOT YOUR BRO

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: y/n decides to use some ‘unusual’ nicknames for her boyfriend, drew, except it drives him insane.

based on this ask !! you come up with the CUTEST requests @xoxosblogsblog so thank you for this :) i hope it’s what you wanted, i tried to make it more of a one-shot than a drabble so i hope it’s okay <3

WARNINGS: just some fluffy goodness, one f bomb, and i believe that’s it !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, its soft jazz playlist creating a relaxed atmosphere as Y/N and the girls browsed racks of clothes. They had spent the morning shopping, arms now laden with glossy bags from Charleston's trendiest stores. Their conversation had drifted from outfit critiques to relationships as they admired a collection of flowy dresses near the dressing rooms.

"I don't know, it's just hard finding someone who actually gets me," Madelyn said with a shrug, running her fingers over the fabric. "You know, someone who doesn't freak out about my schedule."

"You'll find your person," Carlacia assured her. "Trust me, the right guy won't care how busy you are—he'll hype you up for it."

"True," Y/N chimed in. "Drew's my biggest cheerleader. Sometimes it's annoying how supportive he is."

The group laughed, and Madelyn smiled wistfully. "What do you even call Drew? Do you guys do the whole nickname thing?"

"Oh, for sure," Y/N replied, chuckling. "It's usually just 'babe,' but sometimes I call him 'Drewseph' when I'm feeling extra ridiculous."

"Drewseph?" Carlacia snorted, nearly doubling over. "That's incredible."

"I know, right?" Y/N grinned. "But seriously, I think he'd have a heart attack if I called him anything else. He's so used to those two."

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "Like what? What would actually make him freak out?"

"I don't know..." Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Probably something like 'dude' or 'bro.' He'd be so confused."

"Oh my God, you have to try it!" Carlacia said, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"What?" Y/N laughed, glancing between her friends.

"You should totally call him 'buddy,' 'pal,' or 'dude' tonight—just to see what he does," Carlacia suggested, practically bouncing on her heels.

"I don't know..." Y/N hesitated, though her grin betrayed her intrigue.

Madelyn joined in, nudging Y/N with her elbow. "Come on, it'd be hilarious. You know he'd lose his mind in the funniest way."

"I feel like he'd just be super offended," Y/N admitted, laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlacia said. "That's the point! He'll be all pouty and confused, and we'll all die laughing."

"Okay, but you guys better back me up if he gets mad," Y/N warned, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Madelyn promised, crossing her heart.

"Fine, I'll do it," Y/N said, shaking her head with a grin. "But you owe me if this backfires."

"Deal," Carlacia said, holding out her pinky for Y/N to shake.

As the group headed to the checkout counter, their laughter echoed through the boutique. Y/N could already picture Drew's reaction, and she had to admit—it was going to be fun.

—

The warm glow of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Drew and Y/N's spacious Charleston apartment. It was the perfect evening to host the Outer Banks cast for dinner and a game night.

The girls entered the apartment, greeted by the savory aroma of roasted chicken, mac and cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Drew met Y/N at the door, leaning down to kiss her. "How was your day, babe?" he asked, his voice soft and warm.

"Perfect," Y/N replied, grinning. "How about you? Are you a certified chef now?"

"Close," he teased, sliding an arm around her waist. "Go wash up; dinner's almost ready."

The girls exchanged knowing glances behind Drew's back, suppressing their giggles. Carlacia nudged Y/N with a wink. "You better deliver tonight," she whispered.

"Oh, I will," Y/N murmured, smirking.

At the long dining table, everyone was buzzing with conversation as Austin laid down the last plate. Drew, seated next to Y/N, had one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. She eyed the mac and cheese near him and decided it was time to set the plan in motion.

"Hey, can you pass the mac and cheese, please, buddy?" Y/N asked, her voice casual.

Drew froze mid-conversation, his head snapping toward her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at the plate, then back at her. "Uh, sure... babe," he said, emphasizing the word as he slid the dish toward her.

"Thanks, dude," Y/N replied nonchalantly, biting back a grin.

Across the table, Carlacia snorted into her drink, and Madelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Drew's jaw dropped slightly as he turned to her again, a mixture of offense and bewilderment crossing his face.

"Dude?" he repeated under his breath, as if the word left a bad taste.

"Hmm?" Y/N feigned innocence, loading her plate with mac and cheese.

Shaking his head, Drew tried to let it go, but the girls' muffled laughter didn't escape him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't press further—yet.

The dinner continued with more subtle jabs from Y/N. "Hey, pal, can you pass the salt?" she asked later, earning another baffled look from Drew. When he handed it to her, she responded with a cheerful "Thanks, champ!"

By the time they cleared the table and set up for games, Drew was visibly on edge, his lips pursed as he watched Y/N interact with the group.

They were midway through a heated round of charades when Y/N delivered the final blow. "Your turn, bro!" she called to Drew, grinning widely.

That did it. Drew stopped in his tracks, tossing the game card onto the coffee table. "It's babe! Not 'dude,' not 'buddy,' and CERTAINLY not bro!" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in exasperation. His hands flew up in frustration, and he turned to Y/N with wide eyes. "What did I do? Are you mad at me? Why are you calling me that?"

Y/N couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as tears welled in her eyes. Carlacia and Madelyn followed suit, collapsing against each other in hysterics.

Drew's jaw dropped further. "This—this was a joke?" he asked, his voice wavering between relief and indignation.

Y/N wiped her eyes, reaching for him. "Yes, babe, it was a joke. The girls dared me to do it to see how you'd react."

Drew folded his arms, pouting dramatically. "That's mean. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered.

"Aww, come on," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

Drew let out a dramatic sigh but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his face. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"Lucky?" Y/N teased, kissing him again. "You're the lucky one, Drewseph."

The guys, still confused about what had just transpired, looked at each other. "Are we supposed to get it?" Austin whispered to Chase.

"No clue," Chase replied, shaking his head.

The girls' laughter echoed through the apartment as Drew finally cracked, pulling Y/N closer and resting his forehead against hers. "You owe me," he murmured.

"Anything you want, babe," Y/N whispered back, her grin mischievous. "But admit it—you love me even when I call you dude."

Drew groaned, shaking his head. "Don't push it."

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet and silly !! going to get through to some angst requests soon, i feel like i’ve been drowning you all in fluff which is CRAZY because i’m an angst girly at heart🫣 i have enjoyed writing happy drew & rafe so i can’t complain !!

pls send some angst requests pls !! mainly w/ a happy ending :)

[kunareads]

kiss it better

sukuna x reader

when your ex shows up unexpectedly, your boyfriend reminds you exactly who you belong to

wc: 4.5k

partly based on a true story </3

content: brief mention of emotional abuse (not from sukuna), slight anxiety, spanking, unprotected piv sex, oral (f! receiving), fingering, dom/sub dynamics kinda, general filth, cutesy aftercare (!!!)

18+ please i block children <3

you're out with sukuna and your mutual friends, laughter spilling out in waves as you all shuffle into the restaurant. the place hums with energy, clinking glasses and soft murmurs blending with bursts of hearty laughter. you take your seat across from him, his gaze settling on you with an intensity that's both comforting and unreadable, a subtle reassurance of his presence.

everything feels easy at first. the conversation flows, the food comes out steaming and fragrant, and you're immersed in the warmth of the group. gojo is mid-story, grinning mischievously as he leans forward. "last week, utahime tried to parallel park for like… twenty minutes. twenty. minutes."

"shut up, gojo," utahime snaps, her glare piercing. "the space was tiny!"

"the space could have fit a truck," gojo says, holding back laughter. "there was a crowd cheering her on by the time she finished."

"at least i didn't hit anything," utahime fires back. "unlike you last month."

"let's not get sidetracked. this is about you," he retorts with a wink.

"you're insufferable," she mutters, crossing her arms.

"you're both ridiculous," you say, grinning and shaking your head as you take a sip of sukuna's drink. the banter swirls around you, warm and familiar.

and then you catch sight of someone two tables down. your breath catches before you can stop it, heart stumbling over itself as your ex-boyfriend's gaze locks onto yours for the briefest second. you look away quickly, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation surrounding you. you don't say anything.

you lean over to sukuna, your voice low to keep from interrupting the group's laughter. "have to pee. i'll be back in a minute," you say. his eyes flick to yours, searching, and his hand lightly squeezes your arm.

when you enter the bathroom, the mirror glares back at you as you lean forward, palms braced against the sink, eyes burning. flashes of the past hit you—the way he would twist your words, make you question your own reality. the nights he'd pick fights out of nowhere, his voice cutting sharper than any blade. how you'd leave arguments feeling like you'd done something wrong, even when you hadn't.

your breath stutters as you force the memories back, swiping liner and gloss across your lips to steady your shaking hands. a quick touch-up, a calming breath, and you're heading back out.

sukuna notices immediately. of course he does. his eyes linger a second too long as you settle back into your seat, the faint crease of his brow betraying his concern.

recognition sweeps his expression when he looks toward the table where your ex sits. he knows exactly who the man is and what he's done to you, knows the full weight of the memories you carry, cradled you through them long before this relationship even started. his jaw tightens, and his fingers drum once on the table.

choso, observant as ever, notices and leans in slightly, his voice low and steady as he murmurs, "focus on her, not him." sukuna's shoulders relax just a fraction. he smooths his features back to their usual calm. he doesn't say anything as he grabs your hand over the table, just looks at you reassuringly. he’ll let you talk about it if you want to, the way he always has.

+++

it’s easy to lose yourself in the night as it goes on. the group hops from one bar to another, each stop adding to the warmth in your chest. sukuna is at your side, doting on you in ways that feel instinctive. he’s making sure you have snacks, that your drink is always topped off, even pulling you onto the dance floor for the songs he knows you love.

"come dance with me," he requests, extending his hand toward you as a new song starts. his smirk softens as he leans closer, his voice quieter now. "come dance with me," he murmurs, his tone steady, almost reassuring. "i've got you."

his demeanor leaves little room for argument, and you let him guide you to the floor, his touch warm and steady. it's impossible not to laugh as he spins you around, his moves teasing but surprisingly smooth, pulling you further into the moment.

"did you see her moves?" gojo teases as you both make your way back to the group after a few songs, breathless and laughing. "i think you might have a future in interpretive dance."

"shut up," you giggle, swatting at him.

sukuna smirks, handing you a glass of water. "ignore him. he's jealous he can't keep up."

"jealous? of that?" gojo shoots back with mock indignation, throwing a hand over his chest. "please, i'm a national treasure."

"you're a national headache," utahime mutters, sipping her drink. "but at least you're consistent." the group erupts into laughter, the warmth of their camaraderie making you forget everything else. the food, the drinks, the jokes that make your cheeks ache from smiling so much. you're happy, you realize.

at the third stop of the night, your phone buzzes. you glance down and see a text. from an unsaved number that you recognize too quickly.

so u not gonna say hi?

you're drunk now, and the edges of your vision blur just slightly as you try to focus on the words. your stomach twists, the alcohol amplifying the unease that settles heavily in your chest.

but you school your features, slipping the phone back into your pocket with a shaky hand. it's a problem for tomorrow. you're not going to let it ruin this night.

+++

the following day, everything's back to normal. sunlight spills through the windows as you lounge on the couch, nursing a slight hangover in sukuna’s shirt and panties, watching some shitty reality tv that's more noise than entertainment.

the text from last night barely crosses your mind. it feels like a distant, unimportant thing. sukuna's in the next room finishing up some work. your phone is in there with him, left charging on his desk. you haven't even thought to check it.

his voice calls you in, low and casual. "c'mere," he says, leaning back in his chair with an air of effortless confidence. you step into the room and he's waiting, one arm over the armrest, the other reaching out to pull you closer.

"took you long enough," he begins, looking up at you with a faint smirk. "thought you forgot about me."

"it's only been a minute, ‘kuna" you counter softly, letting him draw you in. his grip is firm but not demanding, his touch grounding as ever.

"i love you, you know that?" he murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing along your jaw, smiling when he feels your nod.

"you're mine," he says, the words low and sure, not a demand but a statement, a claim. his lips press against your jaw, praise slipping out between kisses. "you're fucking perfect, and you're all mine."

a tension you hadn't recognized before snaps, his movements losing their gentleness as he claims your attention completely, the air electric with the shift.

his hands guide your movements until you're bent over the edge of the bed, your breath hitching in anticipation. he runs fingers up your spine, his touch making you shiver.

a hand comes down hard against your ass, the slap echoing in the silence, pain blooming under his palm. it catches you off guard, a yelp escaping as your body jerks, reflexes scrambling to process the sudden sensation. the sting fades quickly, leaving a deep warmth in its wake.

you can hear him chuckle behind you. his fingers trail lightly across the redness on your ass. "so responsive."

a hand rests at the small of your back, warm and steady, before another sharp, unexpected sting blossoms against your skin. this spank is harder than anything he's ever given you before.

"what—" you start, but your words falter as heat spreads through you.

he leans down, his voice low and smooth in your ear. "the text," he states, his tone calm but laced with unmistakable authority. he pulls your phone into your line of sight, the screen lighting up with the message you didn't open. "you weren't going to tell me?"

"it wasn't important," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

"hmm," he muses, his palm sliding over the curve of your ass, soothing the spot he spanked. the motion makes you tense, a hint of nervousness settling in the pit of your stomach now.

"he's nothing," he says harshly. "you don't hide things from me. especially not about him. you know that." his words make your breath catch, the atmosphere shifting to something unfamiliar. the air between you crackles, his possessiveness undeniable and exhilarating.

he connects a hand to your ass again, a sharp slap that sends another spark of pain through you. he keeps a steady rhythm, strikes coming hard and fast. the ache builds, his palm leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

you can't help the noises that escape your throat or the tears that prickle at the corners of your eyes.

a sob slips out, and his hand pauses. his other hand slides up your side, his thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"you're okay, pretty baby," he soothes, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness just moments ago. his lips press against the small of your back.

"'m sorry, 'kuna," you sniffle.

he hums, his hand rubbing over the redness on your ass, the sensation making you whimper. "i know."

your body moves instinctively as he soothes your ass and admires his work, pressing back against his crotch as a new sensation washes over you, an intensity that feels raw and real.

"fuck," he groans. the sound makes heat pool low in your core, the ache building as the pain bleeds into something more, a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort that leaves you desperate. "you take it so well," he praises. "everything i give you."

his hand slips between your legs, brushing over your clothed clit. a spark shoots through you as you inhale sharply, pleasure coiling at the contrast between the sting of his hand and the tenderness of his fingers.

you can hear the smirk. "and you're soaked," he says, his voice laced with approval. "did that turn you on?"

"y-yes," you manage, barely above a whisper.

he chuckles darkly, his breath hot on the back of your neck as he pushes your shirt over his head and starts pressing kisses down your spine.

you whimper, your mind struggling to process as the sting lingers and desire ripples through you, the contrast delicious.

he kneels behind you, pressing kisses to the welts now forming on your ass. his tongue is soft against the sore, sensitive skin as he strokes over your panties, gentle at first, then more insistent. you exhale, leaning into his touch. the contact is maddeningly light, and it's not enough.

"more, 'kuna," you gasp.

"you'll take what i give you," he replies, his tone unyielding.

the words send a shudder through you. the ache in your core is so intense that it's almost painful, your body throbbing with need.

his fingers trace the lace edges of your panties, slipping under the fabric to feel your soaked pussy. the touch makes you moan, your hips arching as you press back onto his hand.

"is this what you need?" his voice is low, his touch gentle as he slowly slips two fingers into you.

"yes," you gasp, grinding against his hand. his thumb presses down on your clit, and it's too much. "please," you pant. "i need it. please, 'kuna"

his hand lands on your ass again, the crisp slap followed by the sound of your yelp. "you're going to cum on my mouth," he instructs. "and if you're good, i'll let you cum on my dick."

your heart thuds at his words. he pulls your panties down, exposing your dripping cunt.

he turns so his back is to the bed with you still bent over the edge. his face dips between your legs and he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs, pulling you onto his face. he wastes no time licking a broad stripe over your cunt. his grip on you tightens as he groans, the vibration sending a jolt through you.

"'kuna," you whimper, pressing down against him, needing more. he laps at your cunt hungrily, his tongue dragging over your clit, and you can't help the loud moan that escapes your throat.

he spreads you open for himself, fingers grazing the swelling pink welts as he slurps at your dripping pussy. he's sucking your clit and fucking into you with his tongue, the pleasure overwhelming. the sound is filthy, and it only adds to the ache building inside of you.

"fuck, 'kuna," you gasp. "please don't stop."

he hums and presses a finger into you, and you gasp, clenching around him. his lips close over your clit, sucking as he slides another finger in, pumping them slowly.

"oh fuck," you moan, gripping the bedsheets. his slow pace is unbearable, and your hips buck, searching for more.

his grip on you tightens as he pushes deeper, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur.

"fuck," he groans, pulling away. "always taste so fucking good."

your eyes squeeze shut. "please," you moan.

"please what?" he asks, and you can hear the mocking grin on his face.

"please let me cum," you gasp.

he pauses his movements and you whimper.

"do you deserve to cum?" his voice is low, almost a purr.

you whine, your head spinning. you don't know how to answer, and his hand comes down, the sound ringing out and stinging your already sore skin.

"i asked you a question."

"i don't kn—"

"yes, you do," he cuts in, his tone firm. "always such a perfect girl for me. you deserve to cum."

he picks up his pace and the pressure builds, the ache coiling deep inside of you as you grind down against his mouth, chasing the pleasure.

his fingers curl, hitting that spot over and over until your vision blurs and the room spins. the heat is intense, and the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you're about to explode.

"fuck," he breathes, his lips brushing over the spot where your thigh meets your pussy. "such a pretty little thing when you're desperate. want you to cum all over my face."

he sucks at your clit again, maintaining the steady pace of his fingers, and you're right at the edge. you feel his lips turn up into a smile against you, and he curls his fingers, hitting that spot again.

"cum for me, pretty baby."

"i'm gonna — 'kuna, i'm—"

his hand comes down again, landing with a slap. the feeling tips you over the edge and your words falter as the orgasm hits, bliss crashing over you, your thighs clamping down around his head. it's intense, your muscles spasming as time slows. his biceps flex as he holds you in place, and he keeps working his fingers, his pace never slowing despite the way you clench hard around him.

he doesn't let up, his tongue lapping at your oversensitive cunt, his fingers continuing their assault.

"wait, wait," you gasp. "'kuna, please, please, i can't—"

"you can," he says, his voice a low growl.

the tension in your core is so tight that it's almost painful, each brush against your clit making you shudder.

"that's it, sweetheart," he breathes. "fuck, i can feel you getting close again." his words send a rush of heat through you, and he doesn't let up, his touch driving you mad.

"c'mon, sweet girl," he coaxes. "be good for me."

your toes curl, and a moan rips from your throat, the tension snapping as another orgasm hits. the sensation is intense, fire licking at every part of your body.

his tongue slows, dragging over your folds lazily. he presses a few soft kisses there before he pulls back. he grins with slick lips, lifting you onto the bed from underneath.

you're trembling, barely able to move as he turns you on your back, sliding a pillow under your head. the room is spinning slightly and your limbs are heavy, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

he lays next to you, studying you as you catch your breath, face caught somewhere between lust and obvious concern.

"okay?" he asks softly.

you nod. "just... need a minute.

he gives you space, stroking your hair, feeding you water from the bottle by the bed and cooing when it dribbles down your chin.

once your breathing returns to normal, you look at him to find that his expression has changed again, something predatory creeping into the lines on his face.

"who do you belong to?" his voice is steady, his tone unwavering.

"you," you breathe.

"say it."

"i'm yours," you say, meeting his gaze.

"again."

"i'm yours, 'kuna."

"mine," he repeats, his fingers sliding into your hair and gripping tight. "all mine."

your breath catches as his lips crash into yours. the kiss is hot, urgent. you whimper against him, the sound muffled, and he breaks away, leaving a trail of bites along your jaw. his hands are firm on your body, and his touch burns, the ache building again.

"tell me how bad you want it," he says.

"need you," you gasp as he moves down to suck on a nipple, and he chuckles.

"not good enough."

he presses a hand against the base of your neck, fingers splayed. his grip isn't tight, but the threat of his strength is undeniable.

"what do you need, sweetheart?"

"need you to fuck me," you reply, face burning hot with shame. "please."

he smirks, pupils blown wide with lust.

"so polite," he says, his voice thick with arousal. "my sweet girl."

he stands and sheds his clothes, the fabric landing in a pile on the floor before he gets back on the bed to kneel before you.

he's rock hard and your mouth waters as he wraps a hand around his dick. his grip is firm and his strokes are quick and smooth, his tip leaking.

"i'll give you what you need," he says, his eyes locked on yours.

"thank you, 'kuna," you whisper.

"you're welcome, pretty baby," he murmurs.

he studies you, shifting forward to run his tip over your swollen clit. the touch is gentle, making your back arch, a whine escaping your throat.

"shh," he coos, his hand coming up to stroke the side of your face.

"'m sorry," you whimper.

he shakes his head, his expression softening. "no need," he comforts, shifting closer, lining himself up with your entrance. "let me make you feel good."

you can't respond, the words lost as he pushes into you. the stretch is eased by your previous orgasms, but the weight of him makes you moan, the sound low and guttural.

he pauses, letting you adjust, his breath catching as your cunt flutters around him. "fuck, there we go," he says, his voice thick. "take me so well."

he shifts, wrapping his arms around your torso, his thrusts slow and deep. his movements are deliberate, and each push feels like heaven. his touch is tender, his kisses soft, his body warm and comforting against yours.

he pushes the hair away from your face, soothing you as you start to lose yourself in his arms.

"my sweet girl," he coos, pressing kisses to your face. "so good for me."

he rolls his hips, each stroke slow and deliberate. the drag of his dick against your walls is exquisite, and the friction sends a shock of pleasure through you, your back arching, eyes rolling back.

"'m yours," you whimper.

he kisses along your jaw, his touch firm but gentle, his praise steady.

"so beautiful," he rasps.

"'m yours," you repeat.

"yeah, sweetheart," he breathes. "all mine."

"yours," you whisper.

"and i'm yours," he says. "only yours."

you're shaking, the words making your heart pound.

"i love you, 'kuna," you whisper, meeting his gaze with teary eyes.

"i love you too, sweet girl" he replies, his voice hoarse.

"so good to me," you mumble, burying your face in his neck.

"always," he replies.

he keeps his pace steady, his thrusts shallow and slow, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple. you feel safe like this, wrapped up in his arms, his steady thrusts making you tremble.

"'m close," you whimper.

"i got you," he breathes. "let go, sweetheart. let go for me."

your eyes slide closed, his words pushing you over the edge, the pleasure white-hot and intense, his touch anchoring you. the orgasm is drawn out by his slow movements, and he doesn't stop, fucking you straight through it.

"fuck," he groans. "so fucking good."

he leans back suddenly and puts your ankles on his shoulders. the angle allows him to push even deeper, and the shift makes you moan loudly, his thrusts harder and faster now. his movements are measured, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity between you palpable.

"tell me who you fucking belong to," he demands, his voice rough.

"you, 'kuna," you gasp.

"who the fuck's making you feel good?"

"you," you pant, the sound broken and raw.

"fuck," he groans, his pace picking up, his thrusts faster now, his movements more erratic. "so fucking perfect."

the words make you whimper, and you squeeze around him, the pressure making him moan.

you feel your mind go blank. the only thing you know is his touch, his command, the feeling of him filling you.

"'kuna," you gasp.

"i know, pretty baby," he breathes.

his hips slam into yours, his grip around your thighs unforgiving, his pace brutal now, the room filled with the slap of skin on skin.

he watches the hearts form in your eyes, that distant stare, the look of blissed-out submission. his gaze is intense, lips turning up in a feral grin.

"there's my good girl," he growls, his voice dripping with pride. "fuck, look at you, taking my cock so fucking well. my perfect little slut."

you clench around him with a dazed smile, his words sending a jolt through you. the coil in your core is tightening, the ache so strong that it almost hurts.

"'kuna," you whimper.

"that's it," he growls. "such a good girl."

he pounds into you, his movements relentless, his grip tight.

you’re not thinking, only able to focus on the sensation of his dick inside you.

"'s too much," you gasp.

"no, sweet girl," he replies. "you can take it. be good for me."

your hands reach for his face. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his hips moving in sharp, deep thrusts. the change in position has your thighs up against your torso now, the force of his thrusts almost bruising.

"p-please," you stutter.

"just a little more," he breathes, his thrusts slowing slightly.

"fuck," you gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

"come on, sweet girl," he coaxes, his pace picking up again.

you squeeze around him again and he moans, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering. he shifts, adjusting so his lips are pressed against your ear.

"love watching you take me," he pants. "my perfect girl."

his words send a shudder through you, and the coil in your core threatens to snap.

"'m gonna — 'kuna," you stutter, and another orgasm crashes over you, your vision blurring.

"yes," he hisses, his movements losing their rhythm. "fuck, fuck."

his grip on you tightens as his own climax hits. his eyes roll back, and he thrusts into you twice more. he groans into your neck, his movements slow now, the room filled with the sound of his moans, your soft whimpers. his chest is heaving, and his arms are shaking slightly.

"i love you, sweet girl," he tells you, kissing your face.

"i love you, too," you whisper, voice cracking.

"you're everything, my love."

"always gonna be yours, 'kuna," you sniffle, and he presses another kiss to your forehead.

he holds you for a moment, silence enveloping the room as his heart rate slows, the sound of his breath quieting. he pulls out slowly, and a rush of warmth pools between your legs. his cum drips from you, the sensation making you blush.

"don't move," he murmurs, sliding off the bed and heading into the bathroom.

the sound of running water drifts from the open door, and a moment later, he returns carrying a damp washcloth. he gently wipes the sticky mess between your legs, the cloth soft against you.

"thank you, 'kuna," you murmur, and he kisses your forehead before tossing the cloth onto the pile of clothes on the floor.

the intensity is gone now. the room is quieter, but your senses remain heightened, details amplified in the aftermath. sukuna shifts into a softer rhythm, the sharp edges of his earlier demeanor melting away entirely.

he moves with care, his fingers brushing damp strands of hair from your face with tender precision. his touch is grounding, his presence an anchor as he steadies you.

"didn't hurt you too much, did i?" he asks, his voice low and filled with a quiet vulnerability. his thumb grazes your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring as his eyes search yours for any sign of discomfort.

"no," you manage, your voice soft and your lips turning into a small smile. "i'm okay."

his shoulders relax visibly, and a faint smile tugs at his lips as he leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "good," he whispers, his breath brushing against your skin. "you're everything to me, you know that?"

he shifts carefully, reaching for the blanket draped at the edge of the bed and wrapping it around you. he pulls you against his chest, his arms encircling you in a protective hold, his steady breathing matching the rhythm of your own as it slows.

"you did so good," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm in the stillness of the room. "always so good for me." his lips press against your temple, his praise flowing steadily, each word deliberate and grounding. his hand moves gently along your back, his touch careful, as though reminding you of his devotion.

you feel tears burning in your eyes, not from negativity but because of how loved you feel, have always felt, by him. a few trickle down your cheeks, and his grip tightens slightly.

his heart pounds and you can feel the way his chest rises and falls as his breathing hitches, a shaky exhale falling from his lips. he knows exactly how much you need him.

"'m right here, sweetheart. you're safe," he says softly, his tone carrying the certainty you need. he rocks you back and forth slightly. "i've got you. always."

your senses gradually settle as the weight of the moment shifts into something calmer, safer. one of his hands strokes softly along your back while the other remains firm around your waist, his voice threading into the quiet with reassurances.

as the quiet deepens, the room feels softer, almost sacred, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. your eyes close slowly, the weight of his words and the steady rhythm of his heart drawing you into a space of perfect calm. his hold is unwavering, a reminder that here, in his arms, you are completely safe.

[moonlitstoriess]

The Cost of Deception- Azriel x fem!reader (3/3)

Summary: After years of silence, Y/N and Azriel unknowingly track the same target, only to find themselves face-to-face once more. Betrayal runs deep, and neither is willing to forgive, but the mission must come first—if they don’t destroy each other first.

See masterlist

Part 2

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI (I will mention when it starts and ends), angst, mentions of trauma, fighting, injuries, mentions of SA

A/N: Well guys, this is the finale! I truly hope you enjoyed reading this mini series as much as I enjoyed writing it for you my little angst lovers😘

Five years ago. The first time Azriel realized something was wrong, it had been too late.

Y/N had sent him the documents—a set of encrypted files from the Spring Court that she had painstakingly secured. He could still hear her voice in his mind, low but brimming with excitement.

"Az, I got it. All of it. This will change everything."

The pride in her voice had been unmistakable, her trust in him unwavering. She had worked tirelessly to secure that intel, putting herself in harm’s way to serve the Night Court. How could he not have trusted her completely? She was one of his best operatives, her sharp mind and steady hand unmatched in the chaos of espionage.

But when the information led them straight into a trap, resulting in the deaths of ten of their spies, everything had crumbled.

The ambush had been brutal, a coordinated strike that targeted their most vulnerable operatives. Three were killed on the spot. The others, hunted down in the following days, were slaughtered before they could escape. The loss was devastating, not just in lives but in the trust that bound their intricate network together.

When Rhysand summoned him, Azriel had gone with a heavy heart, knowing there would be questions he wasn’t yet ready to answer.

Rhysand’s violet eyes, usually so calm and understanding, were hard and cold. “Explain this, Azriel. How did this happen?”

Azriel had no answers. He had only fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t yet pieced together.

For days afterward, he barely slept. He pored over the documents Y/N had sent him, searching for inconsistencies, for anything that could explain how the information she’d provided had been so catastrophically wrong. He sent his own spies into Spring Court territory to investigate, desperate to uncover the truth.

It was one of his scouts who returned with the key.

“Someone fed her false information,” the scout explained, laying out the details. “A contact in the Spring Court deliberately set her up. They knew she’d take the bait. They knew exactly what to feed her.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists as he stared down at the report. The pieces clicked into place—agonizingly, unmistakably. Y/N had been played. She had been set up by someone who knew her movements, someone who had deliberately sought to discredit her.

But by the time Azriel uncovered the truth, it was too late. The network already knew of the failure. Y/N’s name had been whispered in the shadows, accusations of betrayal spreading like wildfire. The loss of their spies was fresh in everyone’s mind, their trust shattered.

Ten lives lost.

The number weighed heavily on Azriel’s soul. He could still see the faces of the operatives they’d lost, their smiles and laughter now memories that would haunt him forever.

He had tried to explain the situation to Rhysand, to tell him what he had uncovered. But Rhys’s expression had been grim, his voice unyielding.

“It’s not about what she intended,” Rhys said. “It’s about what this looks like. If we don’t act decisively, the entire network will fall apart. Our enemies will exploit this weakness.”

Azriel wanted to argue, to fight for Y/N. But he couldn’t deny the truth of Rhys’s words. The network’s survival depended on trust, and even the smallest fracture could cause everything they’d built to crumble.

And so, with a leaden heart, Azriel made the choice.

He spread the lie that Y/N had knowingly provided false information. He destroyed her reputation, painted her as a traitor, and watched as the court turned its back on her.

Azriel woke with a start, the memory still clawing at his mind.

The forest was quiet, the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds the only sounds. He sat up slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the area. The campfire had burned down to embers, casting a faint orange glow against the dark silhouettes of the surrounding trees.

And there she was.

Y/N lay on the other side of the fire, her head resting on her pack, her body curled slightly for warmth. Even in sleep, there was a tension in her posture, as though she couldn’t fully let her guard down.

Azriel’s chest ached at the sight. She looked so small, so vulnerable in the dim light, and yet he knew how strong she was. How much she had endured because of him.

Because of the lies he had told.

He had tried not to think of her after her banishment. But she had haunted him anyway. Every report from the Night Court’s spies about her whereabouts, every whisper of her struggles, had found its way to him. He couldn’t help but keep tabs on her, even when he told himself it was better to let her go.

The guilt ate away at him, day by day. He told himself it had been necessary, that he had done what was required to protect the court. But the justifications rang hollow in the dead of night when he lay awake, her name a constant refrain in his mind.

And then there were the dreams.

They started innocently enough—memories of missions they had completed together, of the way she had laughed when they argued over strategy. But they soon turned darker. He would see her standing in the rain, her eyes filled with betrayal as she asked, “Why?”

He had never answered her then. And now, he didn’t know if he ever could.

Azriel leaned back against the tree behind him, his gaze never leaving her sleeping form. The firelight cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the faint parting of her lips. She was beautiful in a way that made his heart ache, a quiet, unassuming beauty that had drawn him in from the start.

And now, after everything he had done, she was here.

His shadows curled around him, their whispers faint and indecipherable. He let them surround him, a comforting presence in the silence. But even they couldn’t soothe the turmoil within him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. He had to make things right. He had to tell her the truth, to explain why he had done what he did. Even if she never forgave him, even if she hated him for the rest of her life, he owed her that much.

He would fix this. Somehow, he would find a way to atone for his sins.

But for now, he let himself watch her for a little longer, committing every detail of her to memory—the rise and fall of her chest, the soft curve of her mouth, the strands of hair that had fallen across her face.

The past could not be undone. But perhaps, in the fragile, uncertain future, he could find redemption.

Y/N woke to the low rustle of leaves and the crackle of a small fire. The pale morning light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Her body ached from the cold, uneven ground, and the memories of her restless sleep haunted her like ghosts.

She pushed herself up, glancing toward the source of the sound. There he was, Azriel, seated on a fallen log, nibbling at a piece of dried fruit with his shadows coiling lazily around him. He didn’t look at her immediately, but the minute her movement caught his eye, his gaze snapped to hers.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, his voice as smooth as ever but tinged with something heavier. Guilt.

She didn’t respond, instead dragging herself to her feet and brushing the dirt from her tunic. The smell of breakfast—though plain and meager—made her stomach churn, not from hunger but from the knot of anxiety that had been a permanent resident there ever since she’d agreed to this mission.

Azriel shifted, his shadows curling toward her as though they could sense her discomfort. “You should eat something,” he said, holding out a piece of bread.

“I’m fine,” she said flatly.

“You’re not,” he countered, and his tone, while gentle, left no room for argument. “We’ll be moving soon. You need your strength.”

She clenched her jaw but took the bread anyway, sitting on the opposite end of the fire. They ate in silence, the tension between them a living, breathing thing that no amount of chewing could cut through.

To her surprise, it was Azriel who broke the quiet. “My shadows went far last night,” he said, his voice low. “They’ve scouted ahead. We’re close to Malrik’s place—closer than I thought. We should reach it by midday.”

She nodded but didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the bread in her hands.

Azriel continued, pulling out a map from his satchel. He unfolded it carefully, smoothing the edges on his thigh before spreading it out between them. “This is the layout the messenger gave me,” he said, his scarred fingers tracing lines and markings. “We’ll enter here, through the eastern ridge. It’s less guarded, but it’s steep, so we’ll need to move quickly. Once inside, you’ll take the northern passage—it leads directly to Malrik’s study. I’ll handle the guards and meet you there.”

He paused, glancing at her as though expecting a response, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on the map.

When he finished his rundown, the silence returned, heavier now, pressing down on them like the weight of the forest itself. She could feel his gaze on her, the way his shadows hesitated, unsure whether to reach for her or retreat.

Finally, she sighed, dropping the last bit of bread into her lap. “Spit it out,” she said coldly.

Azriel blinked, as though surprised by her bluntness, but then his composure cracked.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, the words tumbling out of his mouth so fast she barely caught them. “I didn’t mean for it to—Y/N, I swear, I didn’t—”

“What?” she interrupted, frowning.

He tried again, but the sentences came just as rushed, just as scattered. His shadows swirled around him, reflecting his inner turmoil, and it was so unlike him—this babbling, this loss of control—that she almost didn’t recognize him.

“Azriel,” she snapped, cutting him off. “Speak normally.”

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with something raw, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to see.

“I was the one who spread the lie,” he said finally, his voice low but clear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She had known—of course she had known—but hearing it from his mouth was a different kind of pain, a dagger twisting in a wound that had never healed.

“Not this again,” she muttered, rising to her feet. “I told you, I don’t wish to speak of it.”

“Please,” he said, standing as well. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she considered walking away, leaving him to his guilt and his shadows. But something in his voice—desperation, maybe, or the faint echo of the bond they once shared as comrades—made her stop.

“You have five minutes,” she said sharply. “Then we’re leaving.”

Azriel nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He didn’t sit back down, didn’t even look away from her as he began.

He told her everything. The ambush, the deaths, the documents he’d compared, the spies he’d sent to investigate. He told her about the trap laid by the Spring Court, about how they had used her as a pawn without her knowledge.

And he told her about Rhysand. About the conversation in the forest, about the decision they had made together. About how he had spread the lie to protect the network, to protect the court.

By the time he finished, Y/N’s hands were trembling with rage.

“You destroyed me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Do you understand that? You didn’t just ruin my reputation, Azriel. You ruined my life.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped. “You don’t know what it was like. To be cast out, to be hunted by the same people I fought beside, to have nothing and no one because of you.”

Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to keep going. “You made me a traitor in their eyes. You made me a traitor in my own eyes. Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if I should just end it all? Wondering if it would hurt less than this?”

Azriel flinched, his shadows recoiling as though her words had struck them as well. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “Y/N, I’m so—”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she spat. “Sorry doesn’t change what you did. It doesn’t bring back the years I lost, the ME I lost. If I hadn't been exiled, if I had been in such a weakened, depressed state, I would have never fallen into Malrik's trap, I would have never been raped by him!"

Azriel closed his eyes, seemingly battling the rage and inner turmoil within him before exhaling and looking at her once more. "Y/N...I- I didn't know. Please, I.....I swear if only I knew that this would happen- he will die soon enough but....I know it's not enough. It never will

He took a step toward her, his hands outstretched, but she stepped back, her anger flaring hotter.

“I hate you,” she said, her voice deadly calm. “I hate you, Azriel. And after this mission, I never want to see your face or hear your voice again.”

She turned away, her hands shaking as she began to pack her things. Behind her, she could feel him deflate, his presence shrinking as though he wanted to disappear into his own shadows.

But she didn’t look back.

She couldn’t.

Not when the pain in her chest threatened to consume her all over again.

The silence left in Y/N’s wake was deafening. Azriel sat there, staring at the small fire he’d stoked earlier to ward off the morning chill. The flames flickered, but their warmth did nothing to thaw the icy pit in his chest.

Her words echoed in his mind: “I hate you.”

His shadows curled tighter around him, almost as if they could shield him from the sharp edge of her dismissal. But they couldn’t. Nothing could. He had heard those words from others—enemies, strangers—but never from her. Never from Y/N, the female he had…

Azriel swallowed hard, forcing himself to push away the thought. Whatever he had felt, or still felt, didn’t matter. Not now. Not when he’d destroyed her life.

He packed up the remnants of their meager breakfast in silence, every motion mechanical. His shadows flitted about, scouting ahead, as they always did. But even they seemed subdued, their whispers softer than usual, their presence a dull hum in the back of his mind.

When he finally stood, he caught sight of Y/N a short distance away, packing her own belongings. She moved with quick, efficient motions, her face set in a cold mask. It hurt more than it should, that distance.

Azriel forced himself to focus. The mission. They had to finish this mission. It was the only way he could begin to atone.

As they trekked through the dense forest, Azriel’s shadows returned to him, bringing snippets of information. Malrik’s stronghold wasn’t far now—a few hours’ travel at most. The path would grow more treacherous as they neared the base, but they could manage it. They always had before.

Azriel glanced at Y/N out of the corner of his eye. She walked ahead of him, her posture rigid, her focus locked on the path. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, catching on the strands of her hair, turning them into threads of gold. Even now, even with the weight of her anger pressing down on him, she was beautiful.

He tore his gaze away.

They didn’t speak. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Azriel’s mind churned with everything he wanted to say, everything he should say, but the words tangled in his throat. What was the point? She’d made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him.

His shadows stirred, tugging at his senses. He halted, raising a hand.

Y/N stopped immediately, her body tense. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sharp.

Azriel tilted his head, listening to his shadows. “Scouts. Two of them. About a hundred paces ahead.”

Y/N nodded, her hand already on the hilt of her blade. “We take them out?”

“No,” Azriel said quickly. “We avoid them. We’re too close to risk alerting Malrik.”

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t argue. They veered off the path, moving in silence through the underbrush. Azriel’s shadows guided them, weaving a path around the scouts’ position.

They were a good team, even now. Azriel couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they worked together, how her movements complemented his, how she trusted his shadows without question. It was a painful reminder of what they had lost—and what they might never regain.

“We’ll approach from the south,” he continued, pulling the map from his pocket. “Malrik’s defenses are weaker there. Once we’re inside—”

“Azriel.”

He stopped, startled by the sharpness in her voice.

“Save it for when we’re there,” she said, not even looking at him. “I don’t need a play-by-play.”

His grip on the map tightened, the paper crinkling under his fingers. He stuffed it back into his pocket, his shadows curling tighter around him in response to the sting of her dismissal.

The rest of the journey passed in tense, stifling silence.

By the time they reached the edge of Malrik’s territory, the sun was high overhead, and the air had grown heavy with the scent of damp earth. Azriel crouched low, scanning the terrain ahead as his shadows flitted out, scouting for traps or hidden sentries.

Y/N knelt beside him, her movements quiet and precise. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, just waited for his signal.

Azriel swallowed the ache in his chest and focused.

“We’ll go in after nightfall,” he said, his voice low. “There’s too much open ground to cover right now. We’d be spotted.”

Y/N nodded curtly, her expression unreadable.

He wanted to say something else, anything to fill the silence, but the words wouldn’t come. She wouldn’t want to hear them, anyway.

So he stayed quiet, letting his shadows do the talking as they scouted the area ahead. And as he watched her, sitting there with her face turned away from him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever find a way to reach her again—or if he was destined to lose her for good.

The dense forest around them seemed to grow darker with every step. The shadows clung to the trees like they belonged there, a creeping stillness settling over the air. Y/N pulled her hood tighter, the familiar weight of her weapons reassuring against her sides. She wasn’t nervous—no, she refused to let herself feel anything close to fear. But the sharp edge of anticipation coiled in her stomach, and she didn’t know whether it was the thought of facing Malrik or simply walking beside Azriel that made her insides twist.

He was silent, as usual. Not that she minded. The less they spoke, the easier it was for her to focus. And yet, her gaze kept sliding to him—to the way his wings curled in, tight and guarded, like even they knew the weight of what he carried. His face was a mask, his jaw clenched as he scanned their surroundings, shadows slipping over his shoulders and whispering things she couldn’t hear.

She hated how he could still look like that. Like the male she used to trust with her life. Like the male who had destroyed it.

“We’re close,” Azriel said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness. He motioned ahead to where the trees thinned, revealing a steep ridge that overlooked a sprawling estate.

Y/N stepped up beside him, peering through the canopy. The estate was larger than she’d expected—a fortress more than a house, with high stone walls and watchtowers at every corner. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their movements precise and disciplined.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s fortified himself well.”

“Malrik always did think himself untouchable,” Azriel replied, his voice neutral. But she caught the edge of something beneath it—bitterness, maybe. Or regret.

“Maybe he is,” Y/N muttered, adjusting the straps of her weapons belt. “Or maybe he’s just another coward hiding behind walls.”

Azriel didn’t respond. He unfolded a map from his satchel, spreading it across a flat rock. Y/N crouched beside him, her eyes scanning the layout of the estate as he pointed to various entry points.

“There’s a blind spot here,” he said, tapping the eastern side of the wall. “The guards rotate every twenty minutes. If we time it right, we can get in unnoticed.”

“And once we’re inside?” Y/N asked, her voice clipped.

Azriel’s shadows darted across the map, as if outlining the paths he’d already memorized. “We split up. I’ll head to the main hall to find the records Malrik’s been keeping. You take the east wing. That’s where he’s likely hoarding the weapons.”

“And if we run into him?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes flicked to hers, steady and unyielding. “Don’t hesitate.”

Y/N snorted, straightening. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she intended. She saw the flicker of something in his expression—guilt, or maybe pain—but he quickly turned away, rolling up the map and tucking it back into his satchel.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, drawing her daggers. “Let’s get this over with.”

They moved in silence, sticking to the shadows as they descended the ridge. The air grew colder the closer they got, the stone walls looming larger with every step. Y/N’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm, to keep her breaths even.

As they reached the blind spot Azriel had mentioned, his shadows darted ahead, slipping through the cracks in the wall. He held up a hand, signaling for her to wait, and she crouched low, her fingers curling around the hilt of her dagger.

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Y/N’s heart thudded in the silence, her breaths measured but tight. She glanced at Azriel, who seemed completely still, his focus on the shadows reporting back to him. She envied that stillness, that ease with which he could disappear into himself. Because as the minutes dragged on, her mind began to wander—back to a time she had no choice but to keep moving or risk falling apart.

The banishment.

The loneliness.

She could still feel the cold of those nights when she had no roof over her head, no safety to retreat to. When even a small fire risked drawing too much attention, and the ache of hunger became as familiar as the weapons she now carried. Her hands tightened around her daggers at the memory of how she’d survived—scraping by on instincts she didn’t know she had, enduring humiliation and pain she refused to dwell on.

She thought of the faces that had turned away from her, the whispers that had followed her wherever she went. Traitor. Liar. The words had been knives, sharper than anything she’d ever wielded. She’d grown used to the weight of them, to the constant ache in her chest.

But it hadn’t just been anger that kept her going. It was exhaustion, too. Exhaustion from holding herself together, from waking up every day and deciding to fight through it all when no one else would fight for her.

Her jaw clenched as her gaze slid back to Azriel. He had been the cause of it all, the one who lit the spark that burned her world to ash. And now, here he was, standing beside her as if they could somehow go back to what they once were.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Azriel’s shadows returned then, pulling her from her thoughts. His hand brushed her arm—a silent signal.

“Now,” he murmured, motioning for her to follow.

The fortress was eerily quiet, save for the faint murmur of guards’ voices echoing down the stone corridors. The scent of damp stone and oil lanterns lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood Y/N swore she could almost taste.

She moved in Azriel’s shadow, her steps silent as they crept deeper into the heart of Malrik’s stronghold. His wings were tucked tightly against his back, his shadows a living entity around them, cloaking their movements in secrecy.

Azriel gestured for her to stop as they approached a fork in the hallway. His hazel eyes flicked between the two paths, and his shadows darted ahead, scouting for threats. Y/N leaned against the cold stone wall, her breathing steady but her pulse thrumming.

She hated how familiar this all felt—the stealth, the tension, the thrill of being on the hunt. It reminded her of the missions she used to carry out with the Night Court’s spymaster. Back when they were partners. Back when she trusted him.

The memory twisted like a knife in her chest, and she pushed it away.

Azriel’s hand brushed her shoulder, snapping her focus back to the present. He pointed to the left corridor. “Records room is this way,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Weapons cache is down the other hall. We’ll split up.”

Y/N nodded, already moving toward the right corridor.

“Be careful,” Azriel said softly, his voice carrying a weight she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She didn’t look back as she replied, “Always am.”

The weapons cache was heavily guarded, but Y/N had faced worse odds before. Fear was a luxury she had abandoned long ago, replaced with cold, calculated precision.

She slipped through the shadows, her steps light and soundless, each movement deliberate. The first guard never saw her coming. Her dagger slid cleanly between his ribs, a swift and silent strike that left him slumping to the ground.

The second turned at the faint noise, his eyes widening as he opened his mouth to shout, but Y/N was faster. She lunged, one hand covering his mouth as the other drove her blade into his chest. His muffled cry died on her palm, his body going limp as she lowered him to the floor.

The third guard wasn’t as easy. He rounded the corner just as Y/N straightened, his eyes locking onto her.

“Hey—!”

Y/N’s dagger flew before he could finish, embedding itself in his throat. The gurgling noise he made as he crumpled to the ground sent a shiver up her spine, but she ignored it, her focus already shifting to the task at hand.

Blood pooled around the bodies, dark and glistening in the dim light of the lanterns lining the walls. Her boots left faint imprints as she stepped over them, barely sparing the corpses a second glance. This was the life she’d chosen—or, rather, the one that had been forced upon her. Hesitation had no place in it.

The cache itself was a hoard of nightmares. Weapons of every make and size were stacked in chaotic piles, from polished swords to crude, rusted spears. Crates were scattered across the room, many of them stamped with ominous markings that hinted at their contents.

Explosives.

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she crouched beside one of the crates, prying it open with the tip of her blade. Inside, bundles of volatile materials were packed tightly, ready to unleash devastation. She could almost see the destruction they could cause—the lives they could end—if they fell into the wrong hands.

Or if she used them.

She inhaled deeply, steeling herself as she began assessing the room. The eastern wall was load-bearing, its stonework already showing signs of strain from age and poor maintenance. If she planted the charges there, the entire wing would collapse, taking everything—and everyone—in it.

Perfect.

Her fingers moved deftly, securing the charges Azriel had handed her earlier. She worked in silence, her ears attuned to the faintest sound, her eyes constantly flicking to the shadows that seemed to grow longer with every passing second.

The room was too quiet now.

The eerie silence crawled under her skin, each hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She tried to shake off the unease, forcing herself to focus. The quicker she finished, the quicker she could leave this place behind.

But as she reached for the final charge, the sensation of being watched became impossible to ignore.

Her hand froze mid-air.

Y/N’s gaze darted around the room, scanning the shadows for any movement. The faint glow of the lanterns danced across the stone walls, casting flickering shapes that played tricks on her mind.

You’re imagining things, she told herself. Just finish the job.

But her body betrayed her, every instinct honed from years of survival screaming at her to move, to run, to fight.

She tightened her grip on her dagger, rising slowly from her crouch. The weight of the silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, until the sound of a faint, deliberate step shattered it.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she spun, her blade already in hand, ready to strike.

But the room was empty.

No guards. No footsteps. Just the dim glow of the lanterns and the distant rumble of activity somewhere deeper in the fortress.

Y/N let out a slow, shaky breath, cursing herself for faltering. She had a job to do, and paranoia wouldn’t help her survive it.

Still, as she finished setting the last charge and turned to leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

And that whoever—or whatever—was watching her wasn’t finished yet.

The last charge was set, and as Y/N’s hand pressed the final button to trigger the detonators, a strange, primal sense of satisfaction pulsed through her veins. The fortress would fall. Malrik’s reign of terror would come to an end.

She turned swiftly, ready to leave the weapons cache and move to the next part of the plan, but something in the air had shifted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

It wasn’t just the oppressive silence anymore. No, this was different—more sinister. The shadows felt alive, watching her every move.

“Y/N,” Azriel’s voice broke through her thoughts, low and urgent.

She spun, meeting his eyes in the dim light of the hallway. He looked… different. His usual calm and composed demeanor was replaced by a look of steely focus, his shadows swirling around him as if responding to some unspoken command.

“There’s no time,” he said, his voice low but determined. “Malrik knows we’re here. We’ve been compromised.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She’d known the plan wouldn’t go off without a hitch, but she hadn’t expected it to unravel so quickly.

“Then let’s move,” she said, voice tight.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, searching her face, his shadows curling around her like a protective blanket. He didn’t speak, but she could see the question in his eyes: Are you ready for this?

She didn’t respond. Instead, she moved, leading the way down the narrow corridor with Azriel right behind her.

As they neared the center of the fortress, Y/N’s mind raced. She couldn’t help but think back to the years she spent trapped under Malrik’s control—the constant fear, the manipulation, the pain. She’d survived, but at what cost? Her mind was still scarred by those years, and her body still carried the marks of his cruelty.

The thought of confronting him made her hands shake, but she pushed it down. This wasn’t about her. It was about ending this once and for all.

They reached the heart of the fortress just as the first explosion rang out in the distance, shaking the ground beneath them. The walls trembled.

Malrik’s voice echoed through the halls, distant but unmistakable. “You think you can destroy me? You think you can bring me down? You’re nothing. Just like the others who tried before you.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

Azriel’s eyes met hers, and for a split second, she saw the fear in them—something she hadn’t seen from him in a long time.

He was worried.

But she couldn’t afford to think about that. They had a job to finish.

As they rounded the corner into a wide open room, the smell of smoke and the distant crackling of flames reached her nose. But it wasn’t the fire that caught her attention—it was the figure standing in the center of the room, waiting for them.

Malrik.

The man who had taken everything from her.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The man who had shattered her life was standing there, his smirk twisted in that all-too-familiar way. The air around him seemed to crackle with malice, his presence almost suffocating.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice oozing with mock sweetness. “I was wondering when you’d come. How predictable. You can’t outrun your past. It’s always waiting for you.”

A surge of rage hit her, and she took a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides. Her thoughts blurred as her heart hammered in her chest. The years of pain, of torment, everything she’d endured flooded back to the surface in a tidal wave.

Before she could even react, the room seemed to shift, the shadows thickening around them, and suddenly, Malrik’s forces were everywhere—emerging from the walls, from hidden doors, and from the shadows themselves. They were ready.

Azriel moved immediately, his shadows cutting through the air, but there were too many. They’d underestimated him, and they’d paid the price.

Y/N stepped back, pulling out her daggers, her mind focused on the fight ahead. But as she squared off with one of Malrik’s soldiers, her chest tightened. The memories of her past flooded in, overwhelming her—the nights in his cell, the screams, the betrayal, the suffocating darkness that held her captive.

It was too much.

She froze. The soldier in front of her lunged, but her body didn’t react. Her hands were shaking, the blades slipping from her fingers as a wave of panic and dread washed over her.

“Y/N!” Azriel’s voice pierced through the chaos, but it sounded far away. His voice broke her from her stupor, but the damage was done.

A soldier’s blade grazed her side, sending a jolt of pain through her body. She stumbled back, the world spinning as the wound burned.

She tried to move, but her legs wouldn’t obey. The memories, the horror, the terror she’d endured—it was too much.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, fury and panic flashing in his eyes. He pushed her behind him, his shadows swarming as he fought to protect her, but Y/N’s body refused to cooperate.

“Focus, Y/N!” Azriel growled, his voice thick with urgency. “We’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

But the battle raged around them, and in her frozen state, Y/N could do nothing but watch as Azriel fought off the soldiers with deadly precision.

Then, Malrik’s voice boomed across the room.

“Enough.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. She could barely see through the fog of her own mind, but the cold, terrifying presence of Malrik seemed to surround her, like a suffocating blanket. She tried to focus, tried to force her body to move, but it was too late.

Azriel was already too far into the fight.

And then, with a roar, Malrik advanced. The final confrontation had begun.

The air around them felt thick with tension, suffocating and heavy. Malrik’s figure loomed ahead, like a dark storm cloud about to break. He was everything Azriel despised—cold, calculating, cruel—and his presence in this fortress was a testament to the devastation he had caused over the years. But now, standing before him, there was only one thing Azriel could think of: Y/N.

The woman who had been broken by Malrik’s hands, scarred by his touch, now stood at the mercy of his soldiers, her body stiff, her mind still imprisoned by the ghosts of her past. Azriel’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, and a sharp wave of fury surged through him. Malrik had caused this. Malrik had taken everything from her, and Azriel would be damned if he let him take more.

“I won’t let you have her,” Azriel’s voice was low, barely above a growl, as he faced Malrik in the center of the crumbling hall. His shadows twisted around him, responding to his fury. “Not again.”

Malrik’s smirk was maddeningly calm. His pale eyes gleamed with dark amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing—pitting Azriel’s deepest rage against him, throwing him off balance. But Azriel wasn’t going to be distracted. Not this time. Not when Y/N was in danger.

The soldier closest to Y/N lunged at her, but Azriel was already in motion. His blades sliced through the air, a blur of lethal precision, and the soldier crumpled to the ground without so much as a sound. But as he moved, he saw Y/N falter—her hand trembling, her gaze distant.

Her past was haunting her again.

Azriel’s blood ran cold, and his shadows surged forward, protecting her in a shield that held the remaining soldiers at bay. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Malrik and what he had done to her—the rape, the violence, the years of torment that had scarred her beyond recognition. Azriel had heard the stories, but hearing them from her mouth had been like a blade to his chest. The image of that bastard touching Y/N, breaking her, was enough to drive him into a rage that could level this fortress.

“I’ll make you pay,” Azriel muttered under his breath, his voice a venomous hiss.

Malrik’s gaze shifted toward him, an almost smug expression crossing his face. “You think you can stop me? You think you can kill me after all this time? You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Shadow-cursed.”

Before Azriel could respond, Malrik’s soldiers descended on them, weapons raised. Azriel didn’t hesitate. His shadows lashed out, tearing through the attackers with deadly force, but the numbers were overwhelming. They were everywhere—more than Azriel had anticipated. He could feel the weight of every strike, every dodge, every move, but he couldn’t stop. Not while Y/N was at risk.

Every slash of his blades, every strike, was fueled by the image of Y/N’s face when she had spoken of her suffering. He wanted Malrik to pay. He wanted him to feel every ounce of the hell he had put her through, to feel the agony, the loss, the betrayal.

But Malrik wasn’t a mere man—he was a threat unlike any Azriel had faced before. He had the resources, the men, and a weapon that Azriel had no way of anticipating. Malrik fought like a predator—cold, calculating, never wasting a movement. And Azriel was starting to realize the full extent of what he was up against.

Malrik didn’t need to speak for his presence to become overwhelming. The moment Azriel made an opening to strike, Malrik’s weapon swung in, a heavy, dark blade that shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, cutting through the air with a sound like the crack of a whip. It connected with Azriel’s side, a painful, burning slice that sent him stumbling back, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Is this the great Azriel?” Malrik sneered, advancing. “The so-called ‘Shadow of Night’ brought down by a mere blade?”

Azriel’s fury flared. “I’ll show you what happens when you mess with the wrong people.”

He fought with everything he had—his daggers cutting through flesh, his shadows warping around him, but Malrik was relentless. Every time Azriel gained an inch, Malrik took it back, pushing him farther and farther back. His soldiers surrounded them, and the walls seemed to close in as the fight dragged on, each passing second feeling like an eternity.

But in the chaos of the battle, something broke through—the sound of Y/N’s scream. It wasn’t just any scream. It was filled with pain, terror, and helplessness. Azriel’s heart stuttered, his blood running cold. He whipped his head around, his shadows moving with lightning speed to shield her once more.

Malrik’s men had swarmed her.

“No!” Azriel roared, cutting down anyone in his path as he made his way toward her, but by the time he reached her side, it was too late.

Y/N’s face was pale, her expression empty, her eyes distant—frozen in the grip of her past. One of Malrik’s soldiers had her pinned, and another raised a blade, ready to end her.

Azriel’s fury ignited. It was as if a switch had been flipped in his mind. His shadows exploded outward, a torrent of darkness and power, cutting down every enemy in sight, his focus on nothing but protecting Y/N. His blades flashed, severing limbs and spilling blood in an instant.

The air around them felt thick with tension, suffocating and heavy. Malrik’s figure loomed ahead, like a dark storm cloud about to break. He was everything Azriel despised—cold, calculating, cruel—and his presence in this fortress was a testament to the devastation he had caused over the years. But now, standing before him, there was only one thing Azriel could think of: Y/N.

The woman who had been broken by Malrik’s hands, scarred by his touch, now stood at the mercy of his soldiers, her body stiff, her mind still imprisoned by the ghosts of her past. Azriel’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, and a sharp wave of fury surged through him. Malrik had caused this. Malrik had taken everything from her, and Azriel would be damned if he let him take more.

“I won’t let you have her,” Azriel’s voice was low, barely above a growl, as he faced Malrik in the center of the crumbling hall. His shadows twisted around him, responding to his fury. “Not again.”

Malrik’s smirk was maddeningly calm. His pale eyes gleamed with dark amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing—pitting Azriel’s deepest rage against him, throwing him off balance. But Azriel wasn’t going to be distracted. Not this time. Not when Y/N was in danger.

The soldier closest to Y/N lunged at her, but Azriel was already in motion. His blades sliced through the air, a blur of lethal precision, and the soldier crumpled to the ground without so much as a sound. But as he moved, he saw Y/N falter—her hand trembling, her gaze distant.

Her past was haunting her again.

Azriel’s blood ran cold, and his shadows surged forward, protecting her in a shield that held the remaining soldiers at bay. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Malrik and what he had done to her—the rape, the violence, the years of torment that had scarred her beyond recognition. Azriel had heard the stories, but hearing them from her mouth had been like a blade to his chest. The image of that bastard touching Y/N, breaking her, was enough to drive him into a rage that could level this fortress.

“I’ll make you pay,” Azriel muttered under his breath, his voice a venomous hiss.

Malrik’s gaze shifted toward him, an almost smug expression crossing his face. “You think you can stop me? You think you can kill me after all this time? You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Shadow-cursed.”

Before Azriel could respond, Malrik’s soldiers descended on them, weapons raised. Azriel didn’t hesitate. His shadows lashed out, tearing through the attackers with deadly force, but the numbers were overwhelming. They were everywhere—more than Azriel had anticipated. He could feel the weight of every strike, every dodge, every move, but he couldn’t stop. Not while Y/N was at risk.

Every slash of his blades, every strike, was fueled by the image of Y/N’s face when she had spoken of her suffering. He wanted Malrik to pay. He wanted him to feel every ounce of the hell he had put her through, to feel the agony, the loss, the betrayal.

But Malrik wasn’t a mere man—he was a threat unlike any Azriel had faced before. He had the resources, the men, and a weapon that Azriel had no way of anticipating. Malrik fought like a predator—cold, calculating, never wasting a movement. And Azriel was starting to realize the full extent of what he was up against.

Malrik didn’t need to speak for his presence to become overwhelming. The moment Azriel made an opening to strike, Malrik’s weapon swung in, a heavy, dark blade that shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, cutting through the air with a sound like the crack of a whip. It connected with Azriel’s side, a painful, burning slice that sent him stumbling back, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Is this the great Azriel?” Malrik sneered, advancing. “The so-called ‘Shadow of Night’ brought down by a mere blade?”

Azriel’s fury flared. “I’ll show you what happens when you mess with the wrong people.”

He fought with everything he had—his daggers cutting through flesh, his shadows warping around him, but Malrik was relentless. Every time Azriel gained an inch, Malrik took it back, pushing him farther and farther back. His soldiers surrounded them, and the walls seemed to close in as the fight dragged on, each passing second feeling like an eternity.

But in the chaos of the battle, something broke through—the sound of Y/N’s scream. It wasn’t just any scream. It was filled with pain, terror, and helplessness. Azriel’s heart stuttered, his blood running cold. He whipped his head around, his shadows moving with lightning speed to shield her once more.

Malrik’s men had swarmed her.

“No!” Azriel roared, cutting down anyone in his path as he made his way toward her, but by the time he reached her side, it was too late.

Y/N’s face was pale, her expression empty, her eyes distant—frozen in the grip of her past. One of Malrik’s soldiers had her pinned, and another raised a blade, ready to end her.

Azriel’s fury ignited once more, burning through him like wildfire. It felt as if the ground beneath him had cracked open, his heart beating out of his chest as his shadows swarmed, tearing through the soldiers with a speed and precision that left no room for mercy.

But as Azriel turned back to face Malrik, his mind sharpened with clarity, rage, and something darker—something primal. Malrik stood at the center of the chaos, watching with a twisted satisfaction in his cold eyes.

“You think you can stop me, Azriel?” Malrik laughed, his voice laced with arrogance. “You’ll never be enough. You’re weak, just like your pathetic allies. And when I’m done with you, I’ll make her scream again. She’ll remember—”

Azriel didn’t wait for him to finish. He lunged forward, daggers flashing in the dim light. But Malrik was prepared. His blade whipped out, clashing against Azriel’s with a violent crack. The force of the strike sent Azriel staggering, but he recovered in an instant, his shadows lunging forward to bind Malrik in place.

“You’ve caused enough destruction, Malrik,” Azriel growled, every word soaked with hatred. “It ends today.”

But Malrik wasn’t finished. With a growl, he twisted in the shadows’ grip, his body moving in unnatural, serpentine motions. He freed himself, ripping through the darkness with an ease that sent chills down Azriel’s spine.

“You can’t even begin to understand what I’ve done,” Malrik said coldly, a cruel smile on his lips. “And I’ll do it all over again—just to watch her break.”

Azriel’s vision blurred with rage. He attacked again, this time with more precision, his daggers slicing through the air with the fury of a storm. But Malrik was faster, stronger—his blade moving with deadly force, striking against Azriel’s, knocking him back.

The two of them collided in a clash of shadows and steel, neither giving an inch. Azriel’s heart thundered in his chest as he fought, shadows dancing wildly around him, his daggers flashing in the dim light, but Malrik was always a step ahead. Each strike felt like an eternity—every wound, every bruise, only fueling Azriel’s determination.

Azriel’s shadows tried to bind Malrik again, but Malrik’s blade was relentless, cutting through the darkness like a hot knife through butter. Every time Azriel thought he had the upper hand, Malrik shifted, ducked, or twisted, evading the strike with terrifying precision.

It was like fighting a monster—a nightmare that would never end.

And then, in a moment of vulnerability, Malrik made his move.

With a wicked grin, Malrik struck—his blade slashing across Azriel’s chest, cutting deep. Azriel gasped, staggering back as the blood welled from the wound. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as pain exploded in his side, but the fury inside him burned brighter.

“Is this all you have, Azriel?” Malrik taunted, his blade dripping with blood. “You couldn’t protect her before, and you won’t protect her now.”

Azriel’s vision clouded, the anger overwhelming every thought, every instinct. He wasn’t just fighting for victory—he was fighting for Y/N, for the woman who had been torn apart by this monster, for the woman who had been broken and rebuilt, piece by piece, by his hands.

“You don’t deserve to breathe,” Azriel hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

Malrik’s grin faltered as Azriel’s shadows surged forward in a final, desperate push, coiling around his legs, his arms—binding him tight. The shadows felt like iron chains, relentless and unyielding.

Azriel lunged forward, his blades flashing in the flickering torchlight, and with a scream of pure fury, he drove both daggers into Malrik’s chest, pushing deep until he felt the life drain out of him.

Malrik’s body slumped to the ground with a sickening thud.

Azriel stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his wounds. His hands trembled as he pulled his daggers from the lifeless corpse. His gaze never left Malrik, not even as the life left him.

But as the adrenaline slowly faded, it wasn’t satisfaction that Azriel felt—it was the cold weight of loss.

The moment Malrik’s body crumpled to the ground, Azriel’s breath was ragged, his body pulsing with pain. The battle was over—Malrik was dead—but the victory felt hollow. The blood dripping from Azriel’s chest, from his side, was a constant reminder of the price he had paid. His vision was fading, but there was no time to stop. Not when Y/N was still in danger. Not when the woman who had been broken by this monster lay crumpled on the cold stone floor, barely conscious, her body barely clinging to life.

Azriel’s shadows moved around him, reaching out to steady him as his legs threatened to give way under him. His chest ached with every breath, but his eyes were locked on Y/N. He didn’t care about the blood pooling at his feet. He didn’t care about the pain. All that mattered was getting her out of here. Getting her somewhere safe. Somewhere she could heal.

His shadows crawled around her, pulling her body closer to his. He felt the weight of her fragile form in his arms, heard her ragged breaths, felt her pulse weakly under his touch.

“No. No, Y/N. Stay with me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky with raw emotion. The words were a plea—a command, a desperate cry. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not when they had just begun to fight back.

His hands shook as he cradled her, his blood mixing with hers, staining his skin, but he barely noticed it. Every drop of blood that soaked into his clothes only made the urgency in his chest burn hotter. His mind raced. He had to get her out. He had to get her somewhere safe.

Azriel’s last reserves of strength came crashing down on him. His wings trembled as he winnowed them both through the wreckage of the room, out of the hell that Malrik had made, and into the air. He was barely conscious himself, every breath a struggle. His vision was a blur, dark spots dancing before his eyes, but there was no other option. He couldn’t stop.

Velaris. The House of Wind. His only goal.

He landed with a jarring force, the impact almost sending him to his knees, but he stayed upright, clutching Y/N close to his chest. His body screamed in protest as he stumbled, blood dripping down his sides. He felt every injury, every slice from Malrik’s blade. But he couldn’t focus on that now. Not when Y/N was slipping away.

The doors to the House of Wind burst open, and Azriel’s heart nearly shattered as he rushed through the threshold, stumbling into the quiet hall.

“Azriel!” Rhysand’s voice cut through the panic in his mind, but Azriel couldn’t focus on the High Lord’s words. He couldn’t hear anyone. His only thought was Y/N, her fragile form in his arms.

“Get the healers. NOW!” Azriel shouted, his voice raw, frantic. His blood dripped from him like a scarlet trail as he moved, shaking, toward the stairs. The whole world seemed to pulse and fade with each breath, but he couldn’t stop. Not until she was safe.

“Azriel—”

Rhysand’s voice broke through again, but Azriel didn’t hear him. He was past the point of reason, his shadows thrashing around him as if they were as panicked as he was. The darkness roiled with his fury, his desperation. His wings were heavy with blood and exhaustion, but he wouldn’t let himself stop.

“Get out of my way,” Azriel growled, his voice an animalistic snarl as he shot a glare at Rhysand, his High Lord, the one person who had ever been his brother. The one person who should have commanded Azriel’s respect, but now? Nothing mattered but Y/N. His shadows twisted in response, threatening to lash out at the High Lord’s form. Azriel didn’t know what he’d do next, but he couldn’t stand still. He couldn’t wait.

He needed help. He needed someone to save her.

“She needs a healer, Rhys!” Azriel’s words were urgent, his voice thick with barely controlled panic. “Now!”

The shadows wrapped tighter around him, their darkness spreading out into the room, as if trying to force the world to bend to Azriel’s will. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

Rhysand’s expression flickered, and his gaze turned dark with understanding. Cassian appeared almost immediately, his face full of concern as he rushed toward them.

“What happened?” Cassian’s eyes darted between Azriel and Y/N, his hand brushing over Azriel’s bloodied chest.

“It’s Malrik,” Azriel muttered, his voice weak but fierce. “He—he’s dead. He’s dead, but... she... She needs help now.”

Cassian’s eyes hardened, and he nodded sharply. “I’ll get the healers.”

Azriel couldn’t think anymore. His mind was slipping in and out, and the world around him was dimming. The pain in his body was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Y/N, barely breathing in his arms. Her pulse was faint under his touch. She was fading.

Her body shuddered, and a weak sound escaped her lips. Azriel's heart shattered as he leaned in closer, his hands trembling as he pressed against her skin. “Y/N, please...” he whispered, his voice cracking, raw with grief. “Stay with me. Don’t leave me... don’t leave me alone.”

But she wasn’t responding. Her eyes flickered, and he could see the fight in her slowly dimming. She was slipping.

"Please," Azriel begged, his voice a tortured plea. "Please, Y/N... just stay awake. Stay with me. I’m here. I’m right here."

Her eyelids fluttered weakly, and Azriel’s heart skipped. He could hear the frantic movement around him, the Inner Circle gathering close, but nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except for Y/N.

Cassian and Rhysand spoke, Mor ran to get Amren in case the ancient female knew anything that could help, but Azriel didn’t hear them. All he could focus on was the weight of Y/N’s body, her breath shallow and shallow. He couldn’t let her die.

He wouldn’t survive if she did.

Azriel’s head swam as he willed himself to remain conscious. His injuries were severe—he could feel the blood seeping from the gash in his chest, his side throbbing in agony—but none of that mattered. He had no time for his own pain.

Y/N needed him.

And then, finally, the healers arrived.

“Azriel, we need space,” one of them said, their voice calm but firm.

Azriel barely registered the words. He shook his head desperately. “No,” he snapped. “She stays with me. You heal her, now.”

But the healers weren’t backing down. Rhysand’s powerful voice cut through his panic. “Azriel. Let them help.”

Azriel’s breath came in ragged gasps. His vision was closing in, everything feeling like it was slipping away. The tension in his body coiled tightly, the shadows vibrating with his distress. He had no idea how he was still standing, but there was nothing—nothing—that would tear him away from Y/N.

“No one takes her from me,” he hissed, his voice almost feral. His wings twitched behind him, and he took a step back to allow the healers to do their work, but his hands never left her body. He didn’t trust anyone else. Not right now.

As the healers began their work, Azriel sank to his knees beside her, his shadow-covered wings stretched out protectively over both of them, and he whispered through clenched teeth, “Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

And then, finally, darkness overcame him.

The world was blurry when she woke up. Her vision swam in and out of focus, her head pounding as if a hundred hammers were smashing against her skull. She groaned softly, the weight of her limbs and the ache in her body dragging her back into consciousness. The first thing she noticed was the softness beneath her. The feeling of fine sheets, the coolness of the air. This was not the place she’d last remembered. This was not the battlefield, the ruins where Malrik had been.

Where am I?

The question was sluggish, curling in her mind. She turned her head, the movement slow and cautious, and she immediately regretted it. A sharp, agonizing pain coursed through her body, but she pushed through it. She was alive. That much she knew. But she could feel the heaviness of the room, the faint scent of healing herbs in the air. Something was off, but there were more immediate concerns.

The flicker of motion caught her eye. A woman was standing beside the bed, one that didn’t exactly seem familiar but was clearly there with intent. Y/N tried to push herself up, but the dizziness almost made her collapse again. She gripped the side of the bed and blinked at the woman.

“Where am I?” Her voice sounded strange—weak, like she hadn’t used it in ages.

The woman—who Y/N now recognized as Amren, one of the Inner Circle—raised an eyebrow, her cold, calculating gaze flicking over Y/N’s form. There was no warmth there, no sympathy. But that was to be expected. Y/N knew of Amren. The woman was an enigma, someone who remained aloof from others.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days,” Amren said with her usual bluntness, the words heavy in the air. “It’s no surprise, considering the state you were in when you arrived.” She didn’t look concerned, just matter-of-fact. “The healers are doing their best to keep you alive.”

Y/N's heart dropped at the word state. The last thing she remembered before everything went black... Malrik’s blade. The fight. Azriel. She bit down on the pain that wanted to crawl up her throat, her stomach twisting into a tight knot as the realization began to seep in like a slow poison.

“Azriel…” she whispered, her voice faint, trembling. “Where is he? What happened to him?”

Amren hesitated, just the smallest flicker of emotion crossing her cold features before she turned to the door. “That’s Mor’s department. She’ll have more details for you.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened at the mention of his name. She struggled to sit up, the pain ripping through her body. She could barely see straight, but she had to know. Had to. She needed to hear it from someone who had seen it all, who knew what happened.

Before Amren could stop her, the door to the room opened. A figure appeared in the doorway—Mor, her presence commanding, yet there was a tiredness in her eyes that Y/N hadn’t seen before. The High Fae’s gaze flickered to her briefly before moving to Amren, her wings twitching behind her.

“Well, any news?” Amren asked, her tone like steel, unbothered by the situation. She was a woman of few words, but those words always carried weight.

Mor sighed, her eyes dark and weary. “No change. He’s still unconscious. The shadows are restless. They won’t stay still. It’s like they’re trying to drag him back to the fight.” She paused, glancing at Y/N. “And... Y/N, I’m glad you’re awake, but I... I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

Her voice softened when she saw Y/N’s frantic gaze locked onto her, and she moved closer to the bed, her face full of concern despite her usual guarded demeanor. Y/N couldn’t shake the sense of impending dread that settled in her chest, the heaviness of it threatening to crush her.

“Who are you talking about?” Y/N asked, the words strangling her as they left her mouth. She knew, but she needed to hear it. She needed confirmation.

Amren and Mor exchanged a glance. It was brief, but there was an unmistakable hesitation in it.

“Azriel,” Mor said, her voice soft but steady, the name carrying a weight Y/N hadn’t expected to hear. "He’s been unconscious for the same amount of time as you. Both of you... you looked like absolute shit when you were brought back. He could barely hold you, Y/N. He was badly wounded."

Y/N felt her heart stop. The breath caught in her throat. He was hurt? The memory of their last moments together came flooding back. Azriel, fighting with everything he had to protect her, to save her. He’d come for her. He hadn’t left her behind.

He hadn’t left her.

The room seemed to spin as the emotion she’d been holding back finally began to crack open. “He saved me?” The words were raw, broken, like she was speaking through a jagged breath. “He didn’t leave me behind? Even after everything? After—?”

Mor stepped closer, her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. There was something unspoken in her gaze, something that softened her usual sharp edges. “Of course not,” Mor replied. “He would never leave you behind. Not in a thousand lifetimes.”

Y/N’s chest felt tight. She wanted to scream, to shout, to cry, but her body refused to let her. It was as if everything inside her had been frozen in place—until now. The realization that Azriel had come for her, that he had fought for her, that he hadn’t abandoned her in the chaos, was almost too much to comprehend.

But as soon as the weight of that truth sank in, a surge of panic tore through her.

“Where is he?” Y/N demanded, sitting up, her body screaming in protest at the movement, but she didn’t care. She needed to know. “I need to see him. Now.”

“Y/N, you’re not—” Amren started, but Y/N wasn’t listening. She could barely hear anything over the pounding of her heart.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her knees buckling beneath her as pain shot through her entire body. Her head spun, but she didn’t care. She was not staying here, helpless and stuck in this room. Not when Azriel—he—was out there, fighting to stay alive.

Before anyone could stop her, Y/N surged forward, pushing past Mor and Amren as she stood on shaky legs. The pain was unbearable, but it didn’t matter. She grabbed Mor’s arm, holding onto her with a desperation that surprised them both.

“Lead the way,” Y/N’s voice was fierce, even though it cracked. “I don’t care about anything else. Take me to Azriel. Now.”

Mor blinked at her in surprise, clearly taken aback by Y/N’s sudden surge of strength, but she didn’t hesitate for long. The urgency in Y/N’s voice was undeniable, and after a beat of hesitation, she nodded.

“Fine,” Mor said, her voice softening for a moment before she turned and motioned for Y/N to follow. “But you’re not going to like how bad he looks. We can’t risk you falling apart again. You need to be ready for this.”

“I don’t care!” Y/N snapped, her voice hoarse, filled with panic and fear. “Just take me to him.”

And without another word, Mor led her through the winding halls, her heart pounding with every step. She could hear the distant sound of voices, of the chaos that seemed to have erupted in the house. But Y/N’s focus remained on one thing—Azriel. And nothing would stop her from reaching him. Not the pain, not the fear, not even the weight of everything that had happened.

She was going to get to him. And she was going to make sure he knew, once and for all, that she would never leave him behind.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Y/N’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the only thing that mattered—the figure lying on the bed, unconscious and battered beyond recognition.

Azriel.

Her heart stopped for a brief second, a sharp pang of panic squeezing the breath from her lungs. It was him. It was really him. She stumbled into the room, leaning heavily on Mor, her legs shaking beneath her from the strain. But once she crossed the threshold and saw him, the world seemed to blur. Nothing else existed in that moment, not the soft hum of the room, not the presence of others who quietly lingered in the shadows. It was just Azriel, the male she needed, the male who had saved her.

The sight of him like this—a shell of the warrior she knew, pale and drained of life, bandaged and broken—made her chest tighten painfully. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, too slow, too weak, and it felt like a distant echo of the man she remembered.

Her legs gave out then, and Mor helped her gently onto the edge of the bed. She sat down slowly, careful not to jostle him, her hands trembling as they hovered near Azriel’s. The room felt suffocating now, as though the weight of the air, of the uncertainty, was too much to bear. The presence of others in the room—Rhysand and Cassian—faded to the background as she focused solely on the man lying in front of her.

She didn’t acknowledge them. She didn’t need to.

Her fingers brushed against Azriel’s hand, as if she was afraid the touch would somehow shatter the moment. The warmth of his skin was faint, but it was there. It was enough. She took his hand in both of hers, holding it gently, and she let her breath steady before speaking, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room.

“Azriel,” she breathed, her voice soft but desperate. “Please, come back to me. I can’t do this without you. I can’t... I won’t let you go.”

She swallowed, trying to keep the trembling from her voice, trying to keep her composure, but the fear was there—thick, suffocating. “I need you. You saved me, but now... now it’s my turn to save you. Please, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me to fight this alone. You’re my strength, my anchor. Without you, I’ll be lost.”

She leaned closer, her face hovering just above his. The words came easier now, spilling from her lips in a quiet flood. “I know we’ve been through so much, Azriel, but I... I need you. We have so much left to do, so much we haven’t said to each other. I—I can’t lose you. Not now.”

The words hung in the air, like a fragile prayer, but she felt them burn in her chest. She didn’t want to let go of him. Not now. Not ever.

Then, as if the universe had decided to remind her that she wasn’t alone, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the quiet. Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t noticed Rhysand and Cassian standing at the other side of the room, their watchful eyes fixed on her and Azriel.

Rhysand’s voice was soft, but there was a tightness to it. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

It was Rhys who spoke again, his words careful, each one deliberate as he took a step closer to her and Azriel. “I should have told you before. But you deserve to hear it now.” He paused, a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, perhaps—before he continued. “I had a hand in your exile, Y/N. I thought duty came first, and I made a choice. I forced Azriel to do what he did, and... I regret it. So much. Especially after seeing what he’s gone through since.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes flickering to Rhysand. She wanted to say something—wanted to scream at him, to ask why, to demand answers—but the words felt too heavy, too loaded. And besides, Azriel’s life hung in the balance, and she wasn’t sure she could focus on anything else just yet.

Rhysand looked at her with a quiet, raw honesty. “I regret it, Y/N. I did it because I thought it was best for the Court, for all of us. But I see now that I was wrong. I never should have forced Azriel into that position. Never.”

Cassian stepped forward then, his face hardened with regret, his voice a little rougher than usual. “None of us knew, Y/N. Not Mor, not Amren, not any of us. We didn’t know how bad it was, how much Azriel was suffering. We didn’t know the weight he was carrying. But I’m begging you—please, understand that none of us knew. And we all want to make it right.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Her mind was reeling, trying to process the weight of what they were saying. But through the fog of her thoughts, one thing became painfully clear—she couldn’t afford to focus on this. Not right now. She couldn’t afford to let this divide them further. Azriel needed her.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Y/N muttered, her voice shaking, but there was no anger in it, just a quiet, resigned exhaustion. “We’ll talk later. Right now, just... just don’t let him die. Please.”

Her gaze flickered back to Azriel’s pale face, the shadows that still clung to him like a dark promise, and she squeezed his hand tighter, as if to will him to wake up.

“I have unspoken words to share with him,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking on the words. “I’m not ready to lose him. Not yet.”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. The room fell into a heavy silence as Y/N sat at Azriel’s side, her heart beating in time with his shallow breaths. And as the moments ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity, she could only hope, pray, that the male she loved would come back to her.

That he wouldn’t let go.

Not yet.

Two more days passed. Forty-eight hours.

Two days that felt like an eternity.

In all that time, Y/N had never once left Azriel’s side. Not once. Even when she was being treated for her own injuries, she would make sure to sit beside him afterward, her gaze never straying too far from his unconscious form. She ate her meals in his room, and when the healers came to check on him, she would watch, her heart in her throat, praying for any sign of improvement.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness, but she refused to leave him, not when he had done so much for her, not when he had saved her life and brought her back from the edge of death itself. No. She would stay with him, even if it felt like time was dragging on and the world outside seemed so far away.

And then, on the second day, when the shadows had grown restless and the light of the room began to shift as dusk approached, it happened.

Azriel woke up.

Y/N felt it before she saw it—the subtle shift in the air, the way the shadows calmed, the way his chest gave that faint rise and fall, like a fragile whisper. Her heart skipped a beat, and in a heartbeat, she was at his side, her hand gently brushing against his, as though afraid that touching him too much would shatter the moment.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, the darkness of his irises blinking against the light, the weakness in his expression making her heart break all over again.

"Azriel," Y/N whispered, her voice a breathless exhale of relief.

He blinked again, and then a small, tired smile crept onto his face as he realized she was there. “You’re awake,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice rough from disuse, but still so much like the Azriel she knew.

She nodded, her hand shaking as she cupped his cheek, gazing at him as if afraid he might slip away again if she let go for even a second. “I’m awake, I’m here,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat. Her heart felt too full, and in that moment, she didn’t care who saw or heard. Azriel was awake, and that was all that mattered.

But as her gaze flickered to the door, ready to call for anyone—healers, Rhys, Mor—Azriel’s weak hand reached out and grasped hers, gently but firmly, stopping her before she could move.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice barely audible, but it held a quiet desperation. “Stay with me... just a little longer.”

Her heart ached at the plea in his voice, but she nodded, sinking back into the chair beside him, her fingers still intertwined with his. Azriel pulled her closer, his hand guiding hers to rest at his side, his tired eyes locking onto hers.

“I need more time like this,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his gaze. A vulnerability that she wasn’t used to seeing from him. “More time with you. I know it’s probably an illusion. I know I don’t deserve this... but...” He paused, his eyes flickering with the weight of unsaid words. “Please, let’s talk. Let’s get this out in the open, so I can stop carrying this weight.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening at his words. She opened her mouth to protest, to say they could talk later, that she didn’t want to push him when he was so weak, but Azriel cut her off before she could speak.

“No, Y/N,” he said, a rare intensity flickering in his eyes despite his exhaustion. “I can’t keep pretending. I need to say this now.”

She could see it—he was determined. He had to do this now, or it would consume him.

“Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, though her hand tightened around his. “We can talk. But not about everything. Not now, Azriel. Not when you're like this.”

He gave a soft, sad smile, nodding. “I’ll go first.” His gaze softened as he exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I never got the chance to properly express myself before... but I need you to hear this now.”

He took a breath, his voice steady despite the tremor in his body. “After your banishment... I made sure you weren’t alone. I made sure you were never without what you needed, even when I couldn’t be there for you. It was me who left the money on your doorstep every month... it was me, Y/N. I couldn’t do anything for you in the first year because I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near you. I thought you hated me. And I... I couldn’t bring myself to face you, to tell you how sorry I was. How guilty I felt for what happened. But I made sure you had what you needed... I just couldn’t tell you. I didn’t deserve your smile. I didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore."

His fists clenched as he sighed. "That's why I never....never knew of what Malrik did to you. Because the first year I tried- truly tried justifying my horrible actions and staying away from you. I swear Y/N, if only I knew-"

He took a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around hers. “I want to make this right. I will make it right, Y/N. When I recover, I will personally make sure Rhys understands what I’ve done, and that I’ll fix everything, whatever it takes. I’ll make sure you’re taken back to the Night Court. And if you’ll have me, if you’ll allow me... I’ll make sure you rejoin my team. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I understand if you say no. But I’m asking for the chance... a chance to prove myself to you.”

Y/N stared at him, the words settling over her like a heavy weight, the truth of them sinking into her chest. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to forgive him, not yet, not when everything still felt so raw, so painful.

But then, she brushed the strands of hair from his forehead, her fingers gentle as they touched his skin, the warmth of his body grounding her in the moment. She let out a slow sigh, her voice quiet but firm.

“I don’t forgive you, Azriel,” she said softly. “And I will never forget what you did. But... I’m willing to give you a chance.” She met his gaze, her heart a tangle of emotions she didn’t have words for. “To prove yourself. To show me you can do better. To show me you care.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders relaxing, as if a weight had been lifted. “I’ll do anything,” he whispered. “Anything to prove it to you.”

And for the first time in days, Y/N felt a flicker of hope.

The days seemed to stretch on, slow but comforting, and with every passing moment, Y/N and Azriel began to discover a new rhythm between them—one they had never experienced before. There were no rushes, no expectations, only the quiet bond they shared that had begun to grow roots in the fertile soil of time. Each small gesture, each word spoken, was a step forward, a step toward something neither of them had ever dared to hope for.

It wasn’t just their conversations that made the days feel different—it was the way they spent time together. They no longer avoided each other, as they once had, but instead leaned into the comfort of shared silence. In the mornings, they would sit side by side, Azriel with his books and reports, Y/N with a cup of tea in hand, and they would just be there together. There were no grand confessions or dramatic exchanges, just the small moments of connection that seemed to fill the spaces between them.

Y/N found herself smiling more than she had in years. She had come to love the quiet moments with Azriel. It wasn’t even about the things they talked about, but the way they could just exist together without the burden of the past hanging over them. Every laugh, every quiet word shared, began to heal something deep inside her.

But the true magic of their bond happened when they opened up about their fears—things they had never told anyone before.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of gold and pink, Y/N found herself sitting across from Azriel in the garden. The air was cool, the breeze gentle, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of the world seemed to fall away.

She spoke of her time in exile—how she had tried to survive, tried to find meaning in the solitude that had been thrust upon her. Azriel listened, always patient, always present, never once interrupting. And in return, Azriel began to share more—about his guilt, about the constant weight of responsibility he had carried, and about the painful truths he had buried deep within him. They both found a kind of solace in these conversations, a silent understanding between them that spoke louder than words.

Azriel leaned back against the stone bench, his eyes searching the darkening sky. “Do you ever wonder if we’re just... doomed to repeat our mistakes?” His voice was low, almost contemplative.

Y/N glanced at him, sensing the underlying vulnerability in his question. “I think... we all have our demons. Some of us just face them sooner than others.”

Azriel’s gaze shifted to her, his expression softening. “What if I told you that I spent so long running from my mistakes, I almost forgot how to face them head-on? I didn’t just fail you—I failed myself, too. I thought I could keep it all under control, but I’ve learned... the hard way that control is just an illusion.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she heard the pain in his voice. She had never imagined Azriel would carry such heavy burdens on his own. She reached out, placing her hand on his. The touch was gentle, a silent offer of comfort. “You’re not alone in this, Azriel. You never have been.”

His hand squeezed hers, and for a moment, they were silent, both lost in their thoughts. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though; it was a quiet understanding between them, an unspoken connection that neither of them had ever felt with anyone else.

Azriel broke the silence after a while, his voice steady but with an underlying emotion. “I’m sorry for everything, Y/N. I was selfish. I pushed you away when all you ever needed was someone to stand beside you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him, her heart swelling. “I was angry, Azriel. I hated you for what you did, for the way you left me in the dark. But I see now... I see how much you’ve changed. How much you’ve done to make things right.”

Azriel looked down at their intertwined hands, his voice rough. “It’s not enough, Y/N. I can never undo what I did. But I’ll spend every moment from now on trying to prove to you that I’m not that person anymore.”

Y/N was quiet for a long moment. She had been angry, so angry, for so long. But now, as she listened to him, felt the sincerity in his words, the anger began to lose its grip on her heart. She had always known that deep down, Azriel wasn’t the one she should be angry at. He was just another soul trying to find his way, just like she was.

“I believe you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s going to take time. I need time to heal, too.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. “We have time. As much time as we need.”

Azriel kept his word. He did everything in his power to make things right, though his efforts often went unnoticed by the rest of the world. He took the time to visit every corner of his network—his spies, his workers, the people who owed him loyalty—one by one, and confessed his shame. He told them all of his mistake, how he had failed Y/N, how he had allowed her to be exiled and how that decision had broken him.

And when the time came to speak with Rhys, Azriel was firm, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Azriel had said, his gaze unwavering. “If Y/N isn’t allowed back into the Night Court, then I will leave. I will go with her. I’m done with this court, if it means losing her.”

Rhys had looked at him, his face unreadable for a moment, but then he spoke, his voice soft but firm. “You think I wouldn’t accept her back? You think I would make you choose between this court and her?”

Azriel met his gaze, his jaw tight. “You tell me. You’ve made your position clear before. I won’t let you tear us apart.”

Rhys had exhaled, his shoulders loosening. “It’s not like that. I never wanted to keep her from you. And if you think for one second that I would let anything come between the two of you, you’re wrong. But there’s more to this than just your promise, Azriel. There’s the matter of what’s right.”

Y/N had overheard part of the conversation, her heart stirring in her chest. She had known, deep down, that Rhys had his reasons, but hearing him speak so openly, so honestly, about what he would do for her... it made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected. For all their tension, their difficult history, there was a part of her that understood the weight of the choices Rhys had made.

When the conversation ended, it was like a door had been opened—a door that had been locked for so long. Y/N wasn’t just being accepted back into the Night Court; she was being welcomed with open arms, with an understanding that she had a place here. That she wasn’t just Azriel’s, but part of something bigger, something that had always been hers.

Weeks Later

Y/N walked into the training courtyard, the soft hum of the day’s activities filling the air. Her body had healed, her strength returning with each day. Azriel was already there, practicing his forms, his movements fluid and precise. He looked up as she approached, his eyes softening when he saw her.

She had learned, in the time since their conversation, how much he had done—how much effort he had put into making things right. And while the road to healing was still long, she couldn’t deny the shift in their dynamic. She had seen him work tirelessly, not just for her, but for himself. He had made amends where he could, he had spoken with those who needed to hear it, and he had taken responsibility for his actions in a way that left her with no choice but to respect him all over again.

“You’ve been training all morning,” she teased, her lips quirking into a smile as she approached him.

Azriel’s mouth twitched into a grin, though his tired eyes showed the weight of his own healing journey. “Someone has to keep up with you,” he replied, his voice laced with affection.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully and watched him for a moment. “You’re getting better,” she observed. “But you still need to catch up to me.”

He chuckled softly. “Maybe I’ll get there one day.”

She stepped forward, her fingers grazing his arm lightly. “You’re already there,” she murmured, the words almost too soft to hear.

Azriel’s gaze flickered to her, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. He stepped closer, closing the space between them, and reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long time coming. I know I can’t undo what’s been done... but I’m going to spend every moment I can making sure you know how much I care. How much I regret the things I did.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just the apology that moved her, it was the sincerity in his eyes. She had never seen Azriel so raw, so open. And it made her believe in him again.

“I believe you,” she whispered. “And I know you’re trying. But we have time now... time to figure this out together.”

A gentle silence passed between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a quiet understanding, a promise without words, that they would move forward, together.

The conversation with Rhys had been long and difficult, but when Azriel emerged, there was a calmness to him that hadn’t been there before. Y/N could sense the weight of it, the way he stood taller now, as though he had finally cast off the chains of guilt and shame that had bound him for so long.

Azriel met her eyes across the room, his gaze softening as she stood from her seat. He walked toward her, his movements slower than usual, as though every step was a testament to how far they had come.

“I never thought it would feel like this,” Y/N said, her voice quiet as she stood before Azriel, her heart pounding in her chest. “To be accepted back... to have everything feel like it’s slowly coming together.”

Azriel stepped forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not perfect. It never will be. But we’re here. We’re together now.”

Y/N smiled softly, a tear slipping down her cheek as she looked up at him. “And that’s all that matters.”

As Azriel cupped her face in his hands, their lips met in a kiss that held the promise of all the things they had yet to say, all the healing yet to come. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was a quiet, slow kiss that spoke of time, of patience, of the love they had built in the silence between them. And as they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, both of them knew—this was just the beginning.

"Show me how much you've changed, Az" she whispered before feeling him gently scoop her up in bridal style and go down the hallway.

(SMUT STARTS HERE)

Once inside his bedroom, Azriel towered over her, "Are you sure you want this?"

Y/N only nodded her head, hands resting on his chest. "Yes, fuck me, Azriel."

He smiled gently and shook his head. "No, I won't fuck you. I will make love to you."

He didn't give her a chance to reply before leaning down and in one quick motion capturing her lips, her gasp. Y/N's hand's went to his shoulders, one of them holding Azriel by the nape of his neck, bringing him closer down to her as she felt his arms tighten around her, their bodies pressed flush against one another.

Their kiss deepened, and Azriel’s movements were slow, deliberate. There was no rush, no sense of urgency between them, only the quiet, steady rhythm of two souls coming together after years of separation, of scars and healing.

Y/N felt her breath hitch as Azriel’s hands gently skimmed over her skin, his touch almost reverent, as though he were cherishing each part of her. His fingers trailed along the curve of her waist, his touch light, as though testing the waters. She felt the heat of his body against hers, the solid weight of him comforting and grounding.

With a gentle pull, Azriel guided her to sit up on the edge of the bed, never breaking their kiss. His hands moved to the fabric of her clothing, his fingertips brushing against the soft material, but his motions were cautious, careful—almost as if asking for permission. He didn’t need to speak it; his touch was enough. Y/N felt the weight of the past between them, but in this moment, it was a distant memory. There were no walls between them, no walls to break down.

Her hands moved to his chest, pushing his tunic off his shoulders, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. She could feel the hard lines of his muscles beneath her fingertips, the smoothness of his skin, but there was a tenderness in how they undressed each other, a silent understanding that this wasn’t about passion or lust alone—it was about something deeper. It was about trust. About healing.

Azriel’s breath was warm against her skin, and his hands moved to the buttons of her dress, his movements slow, deliberate, as if every action held meaning. Each layer of clothing that fell away was like another barrier they had broken down, another step closer to one another. And as her dress pooled around her feet, she felt more exposed than she ever had, but not vulnerable. Not with Azriel. With him, it felt like coming home.

He took a step back, just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire but filled with something deeper—something tender, something that made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t expecting. The vulnerability between them was raw, but it was comforting, something she hadn’t realized she needed until now.

“I won’t rush you,” Azriel murmured, his voice low, like the sound of a night wind through the trees. “This is about us—about us being here. Now.”

Y/N nodded, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed up at him, her hands resting lightly on his chest. The weight of everything they had been through—everything they were still going through—hung in the air, but it no longer felt like something they had to carry alone. It was a shared weight, something they would hold together.

And as Azriel lowered himself onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms, the soft press of his lips against her forehead was the promise of something far more profound than what either of them had ever experienced. This wasn’t just a physical connection; it was emotional, it was spiritual, and it was a healing that neither of them had expected.

Their bodies moved together, slowly, with care, the gentle rhythm of their movements speaking volumes. It wasn’t fast or frantic—it was a dance of patience and love, a stark contrast to the turmoil and chaos of their past. They were no longer the broken, scarred people they once were. Together, they were something new, something rebuilt. Each caress, each kiss, was a quiet declaration that they had found something real.

"Azriel..." she moaned an hour and two rounds later as the male in question had his head inbetween her legs, lapping up all her juices, his fingers also massaging her clit while his eyes never left hers. Oh those dark, intense eyes....

Y/N clenched his hair harder as Azriel began thrusting his tounge deeper and faster. He had kept to his word, fucking her gently, lovingly, leaving love bites and marks all over her chest, stomach and thighs. Of course she hadn't forgotten about him either, once again riding him just like that night at the inn but this time....slower, gentler, as she kissed his lips, his face, his neck and chest, hearing him groan and moan, her name spilling out of his mouth like some sacred prayer.

And now, he was intent on licking her clean. Y/N sucked in aharsh breath as she felt his other hand drift upwards, to her breasts, gently grasping and fondling them. Her thighs squeezed his head and Azriel rolled- visibly, literally rolled his eyes and groane dinto her mouth, causing her to cum all over his face.

Azriel lifted his wet, dripping face as he crawled upwards on her body, kissing along her scars, her marks, her curves, her 'imprefections' as he growled loving praises at ehr like, "Delicious" "Absolutely divine" "Mine" "Fucking hell" and Y/N could barely hide her blush.

But all of her thoughts went out of her head when she felt his thick, once more hardened and angry cock gently sliding inside her overstimulated lips. Her arms immediately went up to his neck as brought him down and whispered, "Now, will you fuck me Azriel?"

She heard a true, genuine, laugh from him as he replied with his smug voice. "Whatever you wish, beautiful." before picking up his pace.

And when they finally came together, it wasn’t with the force of their past storms, but with the calm of the peace they had found in each other. It was tender, it was slow, and it was everything they had been waiting for without even realizing it.

(SMUT ENDS HERE)

In the stillness of the room, only the sound of their steady breathing filled the air. The world outside seemed far away, as if time itself had slowed down to honor this moment between them. Azriel’s hand gently traced the curve of Y/N’s back, the soft movement a promise that he would never let go again, not after everything they had been through. His touch was warm, grounding, and as her fingers played with the fabric of his tunic, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace—something she hadn’t known she was missing until now.

They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the past slowly but surely lifting. There were no more words to be spoken, no more apologies to be made—just the quiet, unspoken understanding that they had found their way back to each other. The road ahead was uncertain, but it no longer felt daunting. Together, they would face whatever came next, not as two individuals, but as a united force, stronger for the healing they had both undergone.

Y/N sighed softly, her head resting on Azriel’s chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in her ear. She could feel the peace settling over her, like a gentle tide washing away the remnants of all the pain, all the loss. She had once thought she couldn’t move forward, couldn’t heal. But now, with Azriel beside her, she knew that healing wasn’t about forgetting—it was about letting go, trusting, and opening up to the possibility of something more.

Azriel shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at her. His gaze was soft, filled with a warmth that made her heart swell. “We’re going to be okay,” he murmured, as if reaffirming the truth they both knew deep down. “Together.”

Y/N smiled, her fingers gently brushing his cheek. “Together,” she whispered back, the word tasting like the beginning of something beautiful.

And as the quiet night stretched on, they remained in that peaceful embrace, a new chapter unfolding before them, ready to be written with all the love and healing they had fought so hard to find. The future was no longer a place of uncertainty. With each other, they had found their way home.

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Taglist: @darkbloodsly @moonfawnx @clementine111002 @galaxystern08 @batboyslutt @circe143 @tele86

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[jinxlovebot]

hihihiii<3 i saw that ur requests r still open so i wanted to ask about cait and fem enforcer!reader who's jealous of maddie cuz she's very flirty w cait but Cait is so focused on hunting jinx n kinda oblivious but as soon as she realises that her gf is jealous and that in fact maddie is very flirty w her, Cait do everything to make up to reader, nsfw or sfw whatever u want!! (I dreamed abt this nights ago n I just can't stop thinking about it nsjsjddh)

THIS IS SO GOOD.

"jealous huh?" - caitlyn kiramman x fem! reader smut

ᰔᩚ: semi-public sex, cunulingus, reader! receiving, female reader, dom(?) caitlyn.

................................................................................................

there she goes again, maddie. flirting with your girlfriend, giggling and over exaggerating at some stupid joke caitlyn said or lingering her hand on the small of her back when caitlyn is looking over clues to locate jinx. maddie has been going at it for days, she knows its riling you up and she knows cait is so oblivious to it because shes so distracted by jinx. you in that case, finally had enough of it.

you, maddie and caitlyn were discussing your next move to track down jinx, standing around the table scattered with photos and evidence. caitlyn's voice is a blur in your mind, because all you can focus on is the way maddie is looking at cait, her eyes looking from her lips to her chest back up to her eyes. she's smirking knowing its killing you, "- and what do you think about that idea?" maddie says cutting off your daydreaming, looking at you, your face flushed red not knowing what to say. you squint your eyes and let out a sigh you didnt even realize you were holding in, "you guys discuss it. because clearly im not as involved in this as i thought i was." you sternly state, throwing your sheets onto the desk. maddie snorted, caitlyn looking at you walking out the door with widened eyes. "wonder what that was about!" maddie giggles, caitlyn turned to look at her in disbelief, "are you serious?" she says to maddie before turning on her heel and heads to follow you. you were in caitlyn's room sitting on her huge bed, your head in your hands mumbling to yourself how much you hate maddie.

"baby..?" caitlyn walks into her room, your head shoots up trying to keep your composure. "why did you storm out?" she says, sitting next to you putting her arm around your shoulder you look into her eyes, "its just you and maddie and the whole thing with jinx... she's flirting with you, and I don't even think you realize! she knows exactly what shes doing-" caitlyn cuts you off with a light tap to your shoulder, "im sorry i was like that okay? i was so caught up i didnt even realize maddie was doing that.." she looks away and turns back to look at you, ".. are you jealous?"

your face grows red, was it that obvious? "well of course i was." you mumble avoiding eye contact with cait, "im sorry baby, how bout' i make it up to you hm? you do know i never will leave you for anyone right? or do i have to remind you.." caitlyn caresses your cheek and tucks the loose strands behind your ear before attaching her lips with yours, both tounge's fighting for dominance caitlyn whimpers into your mouth before pulling away and pecks your cheek. she pulls her shirt over her head while you do too leaving you both in your bras, you grip her hips and pull her on top of you and lean back on your elbows so that shes straddling you. you lift up and start sucking on her chest, kissing and nibbling her chest before reaching behind her to de-attach her bra, "your so needy" she chuckles, reaching to unhook yours too kissing you again. "take off your jeans." cait's eyes hungry with lust waiting, you kick off your jeans along with your panties leaving you fully naked beneath her. she licks a long stripe from your boobs down your stomach to your pussy. she teases you, kissing your inner thighs leaving you begging for her. "jealous huh?" cait teases running her finger through your folds catching the slick on them, "p-please cait.. stop teasing" your breathing quickening when she leans her head towards your pussy. "hmm, only because you said please."

she inserts her long finger into your needy hole before putting another finger in, her two fingers going in and out of you in a slow rhythm leaving you moaning her name begging for her mouth. she finally gave in, removing her two fingers she licks a long stripe on your vagina making you moan her name gripping her hair, she licks your clit sucking on the same spot over and over again before inserting her fingers back into you. "cait im so close!" she puts another finger in. three fingers in, curling them and pushing them in and out she kisses your clit. the knot in your lower stomach finally snaps, "fuck! caitlyn!" cait licking up all your juices clearly overstimulating you she takes her fingers out before putting them in her mouth. moaning around her own fingers she pulls you in for a kiss, tasting the mix of your release and her saliva is like heaven.

after caitlyn cleans you up and your both dressed again (even though you basically were the only one naked) you head back to the main room, "so what did we miss?" caitlyn says to maddie smirking seeing her mouth agape. you smirk at maddie holding cait's hand because you know she heard you and your girlfriend fucking in the other room.

................................................................................................

this felt so rushed >_<

[sczne]

girl are you taking requests cause that last fic HOLYYYYY

ate so hard

if you are can i request semi x gf reader fluff&smut alphabet? (in a normal au, not squid games)

➤ nsfw alphabet.

implied: nsfw pairing: se-mi / player 380 x fem!reader word count: 1.3k note: heeeyyyy, yeah i'm taking reqss mainly for our girlies. alsoo here it iss, i'm not sure if this is exactly what u asked for, but i hope u enjoy it regardless<3 (i spent a whole day brainstorming, and i also did not proof read)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

she’s extremely caring when it comes to aftercare with you, a stark contrast too. she’ll usually bring you a bottle of water, maybe a snack and a lot of cuddles, 一 i’ll say that she sometimes wants to continue, but if you don’t, she won’t push it but if she doesn’t want to, you won’t push her either. maybe shower sex if you’re still in the mood and if you just wanna wash up, she’s okay with that too.

usually se-mi lets you have all the water to yourself but you frown at her way of thinking so the times she brings you a bottle of water and when you finish your turn of drinking, you press the sealing surface against her lips. this action causes her to turn her head towards you, looking away from the tv looking for a movie for the two of you, raising her eyebrow with a small smile “what’s wrong, baby?” furrowing your eyebrows you try pressing further emphasizing for her to drink the water 一 “drink.” 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

boobs. but you already knew that. and it’s too obvious, she’ll steal a glance at any given opportunity, but aside from that, she loves laying on top of your chest just to listen to your heartbeat and probably your collarbones or inner thighs, she’s a sucker for those places, leaving marks whether you let her or not (but if u really say no, she won’t leave any) and only because she just really likes watching you struggle trying to cover them up and usually teases you about it.

on se-mi, it’s definitely her hands, she loves the way your eyes follow every movement, from fingers to the palm 一 her hand in general just staring with your mouth agape as she traces the lip piercing with her index finger, teases you about it too she uses the same hand to point at her eyes, snapping you out of your trance realizing you’ve been caught, “eyes up here, baby, you’re not even gonna be discreet about it?” she teases.

and obviously because of how your body reacts when the cold rings come in contact with your warm skin, especially when they’re sliding up to your inner thigh or a simple slide of her hand down your side when her hand is underneath the fabric of your shirt and you usually grip her wrist to stop her from doing anything else because you’re in public or in the middle of something.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

like i said, se-mi’s hands am i right hahaha,,,, 😻一 she enjoys the sight of seeing your juices covering her fingers, before locking eyes with you through half-lidded eyes, licking her own hand clean as she watches you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, still breathless, sucking in as much air as you could with your chest heaving.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

collars. (open for discussion) something in se-mi finds it arousing about you or herself in a collar with any of the two of you being in control of the chain, visualizing you harshly or gently tugging her towards you or between your legs has her swallowing hard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

definitely experienced, a decent amount of experience, she’s more than willing to experience new and other things with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. doggy. OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. as long as your legs are up on her shoulders. 😽

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

no, huge nono for her, she tends to cherish these moments of vulnerability with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i'd say she’s pretty well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i like to think that se-mi gets this natural habit with you during these moments where she brings up your hand using her own hand while she’s hovering on top of you, kissing the palm of your hand, or letting the palm of your hand simply brush against the cool metal of her piercing along with the feel of her lips, maintaining eye contact with you with half-lidded eyes, with her breath fanning over your hand, murmuring a low “i love you.” 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think it depends, to se-mi i don’t think it’s necessary when she has you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

she definitely has many, from degrading to praising, dirty talking, but i wanna assume temperature play, this idea mainly based off of how you react when her nose piercing nudges slightly at your inner thigh when she leaves marks and kisses, and let’s not forget when she eats you out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

probably anywhere as long as you give her the green light, but she’s definitely more into the moment when it’s private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

se-mi gets turned on by your reactions, your sounds get her going, but it definitely turns her on when you playfully or gently bite her lip piercing mid kiss.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that involves hurting you or that leads you to cry, these are also the reason why se-mi insists you have a safe-word.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

yes, huge YES. i don’t have to explain this. she loves it, having your legs up on her shoulders, watching your reactions, her hand sliding down your side with the feel of her silver rings makes you shiver under her touch, her other hand tightens its hold on your upper thigh to hold you in place and idly tracing patterns on it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on her mood, and yours of course.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

se-mi likes them more than she’d like to admit to you, a little often if you’re in a rush or a limited amount of time, they sometimes turn into an all nighter.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

you don’t risk, you don’t win, she doesn’t care, not a single flying fuck, unless you really say no, she’ll behave.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she’ll give into as many as you want, but she’d be dead beat after all of it and definitely suggests breaks. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

strap. and definitely others like vibrators and cuffs (maybe. does a blindfold count?)

she’d mainly use them on you, but if you insist she’ll oblige.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

depends on her mood, very unfair most of the time though, teasing is like breathing for her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

pretty quiet, sometimes muffled by your neck, but the times she’s vocal is just moans, pants and heavy breathing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

sexting, nudes or films if you allow her.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

she probably has piercings in other places. but that’s just me though…

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

decently high i’d say, depends on where her teasing leads to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it’s a 50/50 with se-mi, depends, sometimes she just stays there cuddled up with you tracing lazy patterns on your thigh while you sleep, making you stir in your sleep. that, or she sleeps like she’s dead. (no pun intended 😿)

©sczne

[starlighttsv]

Lego sets - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: paige buys lilah some gifts as a reward for getting good grades

»»— warnings: las!paige - i wrote this way before the draft lottery and was to lazy to change the team and teammates

»»— notes: finally finished bringing stuff over from wattpad!! now i just have to bring stuff from here over to wattpad 😔

»»— word count: 1.6k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Paige, Cameron, Rickea, and Rae all went to target today to get some necessities but Paige was also getting a few things for her daughter, as she had done really good on her spelling test and math test so P wanted to give Lilah a little reward. Paige and Lilah always have mama-daughter dates, and most of those date nights are exactly like this: eating take out or cooking together, baking some type of dessert (mostly already made cookie dough) and building legos while watching some game show on Netflix. It's both of their favorite things to do and they always cherish those nights as they don't get to do it a lot during the wnba season and Paige knew Lilahs gonna grow out of it eventually.

"What about Star Wars?" Rae asks holding up the gaint Darth Vader Lego set "we already did it a month ago" P says not even looking at her, focusing on the Lego boxes in front of her "okayyy what about the Eiffel Tower?" "Did it like 3 three weeks ago" "Stitch?" "A few years ago. Did it my fifth year of college." "Flowers" "have done multiple different ones" "alright we give up" Rickea says as she got tired of them all listing things off, just to immediately be shut down by Paige

Paige ignores them as they keep complaining about anything and everything, just looking at the legos trying to find some good ones, that P knows Lilah will love. That's when she sees a Moana set and a Disney Castle set, which is perfect for Lilah. Paige grabs those and put them in the cart that her and Rae are sharing, Cameron and Rickea sharing another cart.

"Finally! Can we go now?" Rae exclaims "No. I need to get a few more things. You guys can go to the front if you want, I'll meet you when I'm done." Paige says trying to make them not be annoyed anymore, as they all have been at the store for almost two hours, getting stuff they all needed or wanted in their houses. All of their feet's are starting to hurt and not mention they all have been stopped by fans like every 5 minutes.

"No, we're not gonna leave you alone when we've been stopped like 100 times already by fans. What else do you need to get? And why was it so important you get legos today?"Cameron cuts in before any of the other girls could "I need to get some cookie dough, tru fru, milk, chicken tenders, mac and cheese, carrots, mixed fruit, and a stuffed animal. And to answer your second question, Lilah got a B+ on her spelling test and a C+ on her math test, so we're gonna have a mama-daughter date night. The legos, Tru fru, and Stuffed animal are her reward and the food is her favorite meal, and we always bake something on m&d nights." Paige tells them "wait she passed? Those were the ones she was struggling with right?" Rickea asked "yeah, I was helping her study words in the locker room." Cameron cuts in before Paige can say anything "yeah she was struggling with those subjects a lot, so that's why I'm giving her a reward. She doesn't know that I know yet, as her teacher told me so it's gonna be a surprise."

"Alright so let's split up, me and cam will go get the cookie dough, milk, tru fru, and chicken tenders. You and Rae go get the stuffed animal, carrots, Mac and cheese, and mixed fruit. We can meet up at the self checkout. What kind of cookie dough and tru fru?" Rickea adds

"Chocolate chip cookie dough and for tru fru, bananas and strawberries." Paige answers making Rickea nod, and start turning around making Paige and Rae start doing the same, heading to where the stuffed animals are. "Hey Paige, wait" Rickea stops and turns around making P and Rae also do that "when you’re getting the stuffed animal, get some mini brands and lol dolls. I know Lil likes that stuff, My treat." Rickea continues "alright. Are you sure?" P asks "yep, I'm positive." Rickea says making Paige nod "ok, Thank you." Paige replies making Rickea nod and turn back around,- both groups going in different directions to get the rest of the stuff.

They all met up like planned and payed for their own stuff, Paige dropped them off at Cameron's apartment as they’re all getting ready together to go to a bar, and Paige took all her store bags home and set up what could be set up, before leaving to go pick lilah up from school. On the drive back to their home P told lilah that there was a surprise waiting for her making her get excited and start asking and guessing what it was. Obviously Paige wouldn't tell her.

When they got home Lilah was rushing Paige to unbuckle her and get her out of the car, at least Lilah still followed those rules when P knew she really wanted to just run to the house. Paige lifted her out of the car and set her on the ground "don't run yet, I need to get a few things from the car alright?" Paige asks her making Lilah immediately pout, Paige has learned to just ignored that though.

P made her way to the trunk and got her bag and lilahs school bag and then shut the trunk, lilah was still bouncing on the heels of her feet "cmon mama, I wanna see the surprise"

"Alright Alright, come here" Paige says chuckling slightly. P picks lilah up and put her on her hip and locks the car with her keys, then started making her way to the elevator to take the two of them to their apartment

Lilah is still trying to guess what it is and has listed the surprise about 4 times but P lied each time and said she was wrong. They make it to their apartment and Paige set Lilah down in front of the door, grabbed the keys out of her pocket - unlocking and opening the door for Lilah, which she immediately runs through.

She looks in the kitchen first and doesn't see anything as P put all the food away when she dropped the bags off, then she goes into the living room. Bingo!

She sees the legos, stuffed animal, lol dolls, and mini brands set up on the table, she sees the blankets and pillows that Paige brought out and put on the couch, and she sees their favorite game show "the circle" loaded up on the tv

"MAMA AND DAUGHTER DAY?!" She yells mispronouncing daughter "yep! You did so good on your math and spelling test, I figured you deserved a reward. Rickea bought you the lol dolls and mini brands though so you’ll need to thank her next time you see her. "

"I will! Thank you mama!" "Your welcome princess! But there is more, for dinner we are gonna have chicken tenders, mac and cheese, mixed fruit, and carrots. For dessert I got chocolate chip cookie dough, and another part of your reward is tru fru." She just squealed and ran up hugging Paige’s legs, P bent down a little and put one of her hands on Lilahs head and the other on her back, trying her best to hug Lilah back with the gaint height difference

"Alright babe, why don't you go get changed into your pjs and we will start dinner once you come back?" "Okay!" Lilah says and then runs off to her room

Paige goes to the kitchen and gets the chicken and mac and cheese out, filling a pot with water and turning the stove on. Once that's done P goes to her room and changes into her green plaid pj pants and a UConn zip up jacket. Walking back into the kitchen Paige sees Lilah wearing her Olaf onesie Azzi bought her so they could match, standing on her foot stool, leaning on the kitchen counter watching the water

"You ready to make dinner?" Paige asks her while walking closer and looking into the pot of water, seeing that it is boiling "yeah!" Paige opens the box of Kraft Mac and cheese and hand it to her  "dump that in the water"

After they made dinner and ate it, they put the leftovers away and got comfortable in the living room, setting blankets and pillows on the floor and making a giant bed/ pillow type thing in front of the living room table

Lilah decided she wanted to open the lol dolls and mini brands now, so while she was doing that Paige opened the Disney castle Legos and started reading the instructions

"Mama look" Lilah said excitedly making Paige look over at her and see her holding a few small food items from the mini brands "wow baby, you’re gonna have your very own pantry soon" that made Lilah giggle a little bit. Once she saw what P was doing Lilah put the other stuff away and pointed to the tv "circle?" Paige asked even though she knew what Lilah wanted, already grabbing the remote and turning on Netflix while she was nodding.

Once the shows turned on they both start working together (pretty much just Paige, while Lilah plays with the legos) to build the Disney castle. Eventually it was built and they cleaned up their mess, laying down on the couch and Lilah laying on Paige’s chest. Paige turned on a Disney movie for Lilah but she fell asleep holding onto Paige’s jacket not even 15 minutes in.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[drewizz]

ohmy goodness i am so behind right now. first of all the writing u are feeding us with OMFFFF absolutely eating this up. the tension between rafe and yn isKILLING ME. will go straight to reading chapter 3 after this 😞😞😞

your stomach churned at the mention of rafe. you hadn't exactly enjoyed the brief moments you'd spent together on the boat times before - especially considering how much he annoyed you on a regular basis. the idea of spending an entire day with him, stuck out on the water with no escape, was enough to make you cringe.

ohhhh the enemies to lovers tension is going to burn at a delicious pace. i can feel it.

when the two of you pulled up to the docks, carter was already waiting for you, his hand resting casually on the side of the boat. you took a deep breath, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling in your chest. you'd made it this far, you could make it through a few hours on the water.

oh yn.. make him anxious of you 💔💔💔💔 not the other way around 💔💔 make him tremble in shambles of fear 💔💔

rafe, however, seemed to be watching you the entire time. you could feel his gaze on you, even when you weren't looking at him. it was unsettling, the way he seemed to stare, like he was trying to figure you out or maybe annoy you on purpose. and, in a way, it worked. your skin tingled where you knew his eyes were on you.

in the moment, we love it. in the mind, we're scared. in this moment, i am simply infatuated.

whenever your gaze would meet, rafe's smirk was always there, as though he were daring you to say something, to do something. but you didn't, you wouldn't. cora had warned him earlier, and she had made it clear to you that you didn't have to put up with rafe's bullshit. so you kept your distance, choosing instead to lie back and catch some sun, hoping the peace and quiet of the ocean would be enough to drown out the growing frustration you felt in your chest.

please i pray it's yn with a backbone 🙏🙏

but as the sun started to set, rafe couldn't seem to let you be. he moved closer to you, leaning over the edge of the boat with that same cocky, self-assured grin. "you know, it's almost like you're trying to pretend i'm not here," he said, his voice mocking. you opened one eye, giving him a flat stare. "maybe i am. it's kind of working." rafe laughed, clearly unbothered. "you're not fooling anyone."

maybe kiss now idk or not idk

"going so soon?" rafe called with a chuckle, you shot him the foulest look you could muster before walking back to the car. you were growing increasingly sick of his shit. sure, he'd acted like an ass in the past, for a while now, but it was seriously starting to effect you. 

PLEASE he wants her so bad. o tjink he might be obsessed

cora turned toward you, her eyes softening. "maybe it's because he sees you. in a way no one else does. like, he sees through all the walls you've built up around yourself. and it's fucking irritating, yeah. but it's also... real."

WAIT I DIDNT THINK OF THIS. that means the rafeyn lore might get SO MUCH DEEPER YES YES

lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 02

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 001. 002. 003.

TWO, reluctant waves.

THE HEAT WAS OPPRESSIVE.

the sun already climbing high in the sky when you and cora made your way out to the pool that morning. the kind of summer warmth that seemed to seep into every pore of your skin, making the air feel thick and heavy. you dipped a toe into the water, feeling the coolness spread up your leg, and sighed in relief. you had been trying to forget about the events of the night before, but the memory of rafe still lingered in the back of your mind, like a low hum you couldn't shake.

cora, on the other hand, was more than happy to let it all go. she had a way of pushing past discomfort, of embracing whatever came her way without a second thought. it was one of the things you admired about your best friend, though today, you just wished cora would let her wallow in peace.

"i swear, you need to just relax," cora said, tossing her towel over a chair and diving into the pool with a graceful splash. "you've been in your head all morning. let's just forget about everything."

you sighed again, letting your body slip deeper into the water. you could feel the coolness of the pool surrounding you, but it didn't do much to settle your mind. the night before, with its awkwardness and the whole rafe bullshit, still clung to your thoughts like a shadow.

as you swam a slow lap, you heard footsteps approaching the poolside. you turned, and there was carter, his usual grin plastered across his face.

"hey, guys," he called out, walking down the steps leading to the backyard with his usual ease. "how's the water?"

"perfect," cora answered immediately, floating on her back as she basked in the warmth of the sun.

not feeling as enthusiastic, you just gave a half-hearted smile.

"so," carter continued, leaning against the pool's edge, "i was talking to rafe, and we were thinking—why don't you two come with us today? we're taking the cameron's boat out. my druthers. gonna hit the ocean, do some swimming, a little drinking. the sun's out, so it's perfect boat weather."

your stomach churned at the mention of rafe. you hadn't exactly enjoyed the brief moments you'd spent together on the boat times before - especially considering how much he annoyed you on a regular basis. the idea of spending an entire day with him, stuck out on the water with no escape, was enough to make you cringe.

"i think i'll pass," you said quickly, your voice tinged with irritation. "i'm not in the mood for a crowd today."

cora shot you a look from the other side of the pool, her expression one of mock disbelief. "come on, del. you're not still pissed about last night, are you?"

you didn't answer right away, trying to push away the memory of rafe's obnoxious smirk and the way his presence seemed to fill up the room. but then again, you hated how he could just waltz in and do whatever the hell he wanted without a care for anyone else. you hated how, even after everything, he still managed to get under your skin from time to time.

"i don't really want to spend the day with him," you muttered, but cora wasn't having it.

"you seriously need a break," cora said, swimming closer and propping herself up on the edge of the pool. "it's a hot day, and you're not going to sit around here sulking. we can swim, have a few beers, and pretend we're on vacation for a day. you won't regret it."

you hesitated, the thought of being around rafe turning your stomach. but cora was right, you had been cooped up in your own head for far too long, and the idea of getting out, even just for a few hours, was somewhat appealing.

"fine," you sighed, though you still weren't happy about it. "but don't expect me to make small talk with him."

"deal," cora said, flashing her an impish grin. "and if he starts being a dick, you just leave him to me."

you nodded reluctantly. it wasn't like you could avoid rafe forever, even if you'd like to. you had to admit, the ocean and a few hours of sun might be a welcome distraction.

carter, who'd been listening in from the edge of the pool, grinned. "great, i'll text rafe and tell him to get everything ready. meet you guys at the dock in an hour?"

you gave a half-hearted nod as cora shot up out of the pool, practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.

"we'll be ready," cora said, a wicked glint in her eye as she swam back to the other side of the pool.

you just leaned back against the edge, closing your eyes for a moment. as much as you hated the idea of seeing rafe again, you couldn't deny that the idea of being out on the water was tempting. maybe it would be different this time. maybe being around him wouldn't make you want to throw him off the boat.

you were still trying to convince yourself of that when they got out of the pool, dried off, and threw on your cover-ups.

you only hoped you could make it through the day without letting rafe get under your skin again.

the drive to the docks was quiet, the air in the car thick with unspoken tension. cora kept glancing over at you with a smirk on her face, clearly enjoying how reluctant her best friend was to join the others on the boat. but you weren't going to let it bother you, not today. you needed a distraction, and as much as you hated the idea of spending time with rafe, you couldn't argue with the fact that the ocean and the sun were far better than staying cooped up at home.

when the two of you pulled up to the docks, carter was already waiting for you, his hand resting casually on the side of the boat. you took a deep breath, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling in your chest. you'd made it this far, you could make it through a few hours on the water.

the boat was already crowded. rafe was lounging at the front, looking completely at ease, a beer in his hand and a lazy grin on his face. topper was sitting beside him, laughing about something, and ruthie - of course - was standing at the edge of the boat, her hands on her hips, looking as though she owned the place. your stomach churned. you couldn't stand ruthie. the girl had a way of making everyone feel small, and somehow, she always seemed to target you with her thinly veiled insults - not that they actually affected you.

"hey, you guys made it!" carter called, his voice cheery as he stepped onto the boat.

"yeah, we made it," cora answered, her tone light but with a small edge of humor. she turned to you, "you gonna come up here and say hi or what?"

you gave her a look before climbing aboard, greeting everyone with a stiff smile. topper waved, and kelce nodded from the other side of the boat, offering a friendly grin. but ruthie didn't acknowledge you at all. you weren't surprised.

you took a seat at the back of the boat, away from most of the others, and tried to relax. you didn't feel like dealing with ruthie's little comments, or rafe's relentless attitude. so, you kept your head down, chatting occasionally with kelce or topper when ruthie wasn't in earshot, and mostly just enjoyed the view of the water and the heat of the sun on your skin.

rafe, however, seemed to be watching you the entire time. you could feel his gaze on you, even when you weren't looking at him. it was unsettling, the way he seemed to stare, like he was trying to figure you out or maybe annoy you on purpose. and, in a way, it worked. your skin tingled where you knew his eyes were on you.

whenever your gaze would meet, rafe's smirk was always there, as though he were daring you to say something, to do something. but you didn't, you wouldn't. cora had warned him earlier, and she had made it clear to you that you didn't have to put up with rafe's bullshit. so you kept your distance, choosing instead to lie back and catch some sun, hoping the peace and quiet of the ocean would be enough to drown out the growing frustration you felt in your chest.

as the hours passed, the boat drifted farther out into the ocean, the sound of waves slapping against the hull the only noise besides their occasional chatter and splash when people decided to jump in. the heat started to fade, the sun beginning to dip low in the sky as they neared the time to head back to the docks.

you were stretched out on the deck, eyes closed, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. the warm breeze brushed against your skin, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the waves, trying to ignore the fact that rafe was still sitting there, watching you.

but as the sun started to set, rafe couldn't seem to let you be. he moved closer to you, leaning over the edge of the boat with that same cocky, self-assured grin. "you know, it's almost like you're trying to pretend i'm not here," he said, his voice mocking.

you opened one eye, giving him a flat stare. "maybe i am. it's kind of working."

rafe laughed, clearly unbothered. "you're not fooling anyone."

"neither are you," you shot back, not bothering to sit up. "you've been staring at me for hours."

his grin widened, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, the dare to push her buttons. "can't help it. it's not my fault you're so hard to ignore, you're always right there being annoying."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, trying to focus on something else. you turned your head away from him and closed both eyes, hoping he'd take the hint and back off. but no such luck.

"you know," rafe continued, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing, "you're really good at pretending to be all innocent. but we both know it's all an act. i've seen you when you're not around your parents."

your blood boiled. you opened your eyes and sat up, glaring at him. "shut up."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the rise he was getting out of you. "you want them to think you're soo perfect, what? afraid they'll care for you even less if they knew what you were getting up to when they aren't looking?"

you gritted your teeth. you were done. "fuck off rafe." you snapped, standing up and walking toward the other end of the boat.

cora, who had been watching from the other side, saw the tension and shot rafe a look. but he just shrugged, his smirk never faltering.

you ignored him as you made her way to the side of the boat, staring out at the horizon. the sun had dipped lower, and the sky was a mix of orange and pink, the colours reflecting off the water. you needed this moment of peace, just for a little longer, before you had to deal with rafe again.

as they started heading back toward the docks, rafe stayed on the other side of the boat, wisely keeping his distance. but you could still feel his eyes on you, like a weight you couldn't escape.

when the boat finally got in, the sun had completely set. a dark hue of blue stilled in the sky. you wasted no time in getting the fuck off the boat, cora had to practically run after you.

"going so soon?" rafe called with a chuckle, you shot him the foulest look you could muster before walking back to the car. you were growing increasingly sick of his shit. sure, he'd acted like an ass in the past, for a while now, but it was seriously starting to effect you. 

 you weren't having it. the anger that had been simmering under your skin all day was bubbling over, and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

"hey, hold up!" cora called out, catching up with you just as you reached the car. she was out of breath but had that mischievous grin on her face that you knew all too well. "you really gonna let him get under your skin like that?"

"don't start," you snapped, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver's seat. you had no patience left, and honestly, you were done dealing with rafe for the day. "i'm sick of him, cora. he thinks he can just keep poking at me, like it's some kind of game. i'm not gonna stand for it anymore."

cora climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a sigh. "look, i know rafe can be a lot—he's always like that, but you've got to stop letting him get to you. the more you react, the more he's gonna push. just ignore him, okay?"

you started the car, your knuckles white as you gripped the steering wheel. you knew cora was right. but how could you ignore him when he kept saying shit that got under your skin? every time he opened his mouth, it felt like he was digging at something deep inside you, something you didn't want to face.

"it's not that easy," you muttered as you backed out of the parking spot. the lights from the dock faded behind them, and you focused on the road ahead, trying to clear your mind.

cora stayed quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about how best to phrase her next words. "yeah, i get it. it's like he knows exactly where to push. but you can't let him have that power over you. seriously. you're better than that."

you didn't answer right away. you just drove in silence, the hum of the engine and the gentle swish of the tires against the road filling the space between them. you hated how much power rafe seemed to have over your emotions, even without trying. how every word from him made you feel small and defensive. you hated that he could make you feel so exposed, so vulnerable.

"you think i'm weak?" you asked suddenly, your voice quieter now, more subdued than before. you didn't look over at cora, but you could feel your best friend's gaze.

"what? no," cora replied quickly. "i don't think you're weak, not at all. it's just... with rafe, it's like he knows how to get to you. and that's frustrating, i get it. but letting him get under your skin isn't helping."

you pressed your lips together, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. "he makes me feel like i'm always on the edge of something, like i'm about to snap. and i don't even know why. i don't get it."

cora turned toward you, her eyes softening. "maybe it's because he sees you. in a way no one else does. like, he sees through all the walls you've built up around yourself. and it's fucking irritating, yeah. but it's also... real."

you blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your best friend's words. "he doesn't see anything. he just likes to stir shit up."

"that's part of it, yeah," cora agreed, "but maybe he's more perceptive than you give him credit for. he probably sees the things you're trying to hide, i mean he hides a lot of shit himself... badly though-."

you felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought. you hated the idea that rafe might actually be onto something, might actually see the parts of you that you kept hidden from everyone else. your weaknesses. your insecurities. the cracks you tried to keep covered.

"i don't know," you muttered. "i just wish he'd leave me alone."

cora didn't respond immediately, and you didn't expect her to. what was there to say? that rafe wasn't going to stop being an asshole? that it was just a phase he was going through? you knew better. he was always like this, always pushing your buttons. and maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with you at all, it was just the way he was.

by the time they pulled into cora's driveway, the sky was fully dark, the stars scattered across the sky in a quiet, distant show. you put the car in park and sat for a moment, hands still on the wheel. the tension that had been with you all day didn't fade, but for the first time in a while, you weren't sure it would.

"thanks for the ride." cora finally said, her voice drained. "dont think too much okay? he's just some boy."

cora smiled sympathetically before getting out of the car and heading to her front door. you just gave her a reluctant smile back, watching her as she walked away before pulling out of the driveway and getting back on the road. your frustration still hung in the air, thick and suffocating even though the windows were open and the wind whipped through the car . you didn't know how long it would take to shake it off, if you could at all. But for now, you'd just put it out of your mind, at least for the night.

or you thought you could. 

it was late, and there you were, laying awake in your cozy bed. nothing could get you to go to sleep, so you rolled over, pulled some tiny pyjama shorts on, grabbed the car keys and headed downstairs. 

thankfully the rest of the house was sound asleep, you slid some slides on before quietly slipping out the front door and closing it. 

there was only one way you knew for sure you could fall asleep, and unfortunately you had run out a little while ago. you hopped into your car with a sigh and put it into reverse, backing out of the driveway without the headlights on as quickly and quietly as you could. 

once on the road, you shook your head slowly, looking at the road you were going on. only the cut had what you needed for your insomnia, only barry. you rapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you neared the trailer park, nerves gathering in your stomach and rising in your throat. 

you parked your car a few metres away from the entrance of barry's place, took a deep breath before hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards his trailer. you noticed it to be 1:30am as you neared the door, turning the corner of the trailer you swallowed as you trudged up the metal steps and lightly rapped on the door. 

it took a few seconds before you heard barry's voice respond, "yea? someone out there or sum'" 

"yeah... barry it's y/n- uh, i know its late-" you began, barry swung the trailer door open and marvelled at you with a mischievous grin baring uneven teeth and the bold glint of gold catching the dim trailer light. rap music wafted out from inside the trailer, as well as the sound of someone else inside, sniffing. 

"huh, mus' be my lucky night, not one but two of you country club types, come on in sweetheart" he grinned, turning around and walking back in. your brow furrowed slightly, someone you knew maybe? you couldn't place it for a second, but when the realisation hit you, so did the smell of his cologne. 

"rafe." you rasped through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath as you then glanced over to a grinning barry. he was rifling through a cupboard, probably already grabbing what you were going to ask for. he was one of the few people that, weirdly, knew you well. 

rafe lifted his head from the small powder-covered glass coffee table, sniffing vigorously with a frenzied gleam in his eyes, "funny seeing you here. you can get off your high horse now huh." 

your jaw tensed, you knew rafe did drugs on occasion but cocaine on a sunday night? with no one but his drug dealer? you'd always looked past it when someone mentioned him having his vices, it never occurred to you it was actually this bad. 

"i'm just getting pot rafe," you retorted, in an attempt to show him how unbothered you were in seeing him nose deep in a mountain of coke at nearly 2am on a now, monday morning. he chuckled a little, still leaning forward with that same gleam in his eye, but when he met your eyes the smile faltered. 

you just stood staring at him, growing worry cinching her brows, barry's swift movements interrupted you as he slapped a baggy of weed on the tiny counter. your head snapped over to look at him, "the usual? 4 grams?"

"all there girly, shi' you can check if you want but all you'd be doin' is wastin' our time hmmm?" barry slurred, clearly far from sober as well, probably on something else. you slid the money over to him and he nodded at you with a grin. "you don' wanna blaze up here real quick? ain't like you got anywhere else to be at 2 in the mornin'" he said as he walked back over to rafe, dropping himself down on the worn built in couch seating. 

you swallowed thickly, "need this for sleep.." you forced a casual smile, " 'sides, you don't have my lucky lighter here do you?" 

barry laughed and shook his head as rafe watched on intensely, "can't say that i do girly, go on then, i'll see you whenever a'ight" 

you plastered the sweetest false smile you could and gave him a single wave, calmly leaving the trailer and closing the door behind you before almost jogging back to your car. 

you could hear footsteps pressing heavily on the gravel behind you as you sped up, soon yanking the driver's side door open when a hand stretched out against your back. 

"y/n- shit, its just me, rafe. fuuuck, you're not even baked an' you're this paranoid?" he chuckled watching the colour come back into your face as you looked him dead in the eyes, angry now. you shoved him in the chest, nearly sending him toppling over backward at the surprise. 

"what the fuck rafe! you annoy me? fine. you argue with me every chance you get? fine. you hate me? i hate you too- but don't you ever fucking sneak up on me like that! god!" you gasped, your hand on your head as if to check if you were alright. you looked at the ground as you paced on the spot. 

his expression softened slightly, still a shit eating grin across his lips, "so-rry. jesus. look uh, i kinda needa ride home or somethin' its late as hell." he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. you looked at him intensely, he couldn't look you in the eyes, his pupils were all blown out and a thin coat of sweat cloaked his body. 

"you idiot. you can't go back home like this, ward'll kill you if he sees you-"

"if he sees me" rafe grinned confidently. you rolled your eyes, "you're so coked out of your mind you dont realise how damn loud you're gonna be. and how damn high you're gonna be for hours rafe. you won't go to bed." 

he scoffed a little, "ah- yeah shit, i didn't think about that uh.." you breathed deeply and squeezed your eyes shut. mere hours ago you were wishing to never see rafe, and now, now you were about to offer him sanctuary for once again being a fucking moron. 

"okay, look, you can come back to my house. my parents are leaving in like an hour to go on some business trip for like two weeks so they won't see you if we wait a little while." you said, shaking your head momentarily, "however. carter.. he cannot fucking see you like this rafe. i know he doesn't know about the coke 'cause if he did, you wouldn't be coming around so often." 

rafe nodded quickly, looking at the ground, "okay okay. so what we're just gonna sit in your car until your parents dip?" 

your tongue darted to the inside of your cheek. this was never the plan.

"no. they can't see my car missing so we'll have to sneak up to my room and wait until they've left. but rafe i swear to god i have no problem leaving you here, nor letting my parents find you if you piss me off." you reluctantly said, crossing your arms over your frame. 

he put his hands up in defense, "yeah ok ok, i get it narc. let's go then." you rolled your eyes at the name and gestured for rafe to go around to the passenger's seat before hopping into the driver's seat yourself. 

the ride back to your house was silent. but not awkward silence, weirdly comforting silence, like a cool summer's night. your mind flicked back to what cora was saying hours ago about rafe seeing you. you glanced at him as he quietly looked out the window, fiddling with his fingers and tapping his foot, and you shook it off. 

the two finally pulled up and were quietly stepping through the front door, you whispered over to rafe telling him to keep his shoes on, your parents were pretty perceptive about even minor things. 

they stalked up the stairs slowly, you guiding rafe the entire way because of how tall and clumsy he proved to be while high. upon finally making it into your room, you sighed in relief and flopped down onto your bed, throwing the baggy of weed, your keys and your phone down with you. 

rafe stood at the door and looked around, he'd never even once seen your room before. it was completely off limits to him, of course it was, you hated each other and you always knew it would be just another tool he'd try and use to make fun of you for. yet there he stood, gazing at the posters and photos on the walls and the vinyl records in the corner as well as at the salt lamp that illuminated the dark room with a dim orange. 

you suddenly snapped out of it, realising that the one person you never thought would enter your safe space, was now finding safety in it himself. you braced yourself for some snarky comment about anything at all but he just continued to silently look around. your brow furrowed and you cocked your head to the side and gazed at him, was he somehow... nicer? high?

seconds went by before the sound of your parents quietly departing the house echoed off the walls. a sense of relief washed over you when you heard the front door close and finally their car start. 

"you're in the clear. now shoo, go to the guest room you always stay in." you hissed in a low sharp tone. rafe's neck snapped and he looked you dead in the eyes before a tinge of sobriety, and clarity hit him. 

he clenched his jaw, "yeah ok. bye." 

as soon as your bedroom door shut, you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding in. your mind was racing a little, shock from the entire ordeal but mostly from the lack of annoyance and arguing that occurred. by the time you had settled yourself under the covers, you were sleepy enough to drift off. wondering if you pinched yourself, maybe you'd just wake up from this weird dream.

notes ; surpriiiise. double update.

taglist ;  @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @foolishangelic @i2rapunzel @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafestoothbrush ( lachesism taglist )

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 3

(Part 1 | Part 2)

I had jacked in. Unauthorized. Unbidden.

When I finally disconnected from Morrigan's tender embrace, the reality of my situation had come slamming into me.

I had used my access to a multi billion dollar war machine for my own personal ends. I had risked my job, my career, my fucking life maybe... and for what? A bad dream?

I returned to my quarters, mechanically showered and ate breakfast and reported to my station, all but certain that security would arrive at any minute to quietly escort me out of the facility to a hole somewhere no one would ever see me again.

But they never came.

Despite the anomalous access logs, they never came.

Burning the midnight oil? one of the techs had asked jokingly.

Fuck.

They all fucking knew I had been there, but it never crossed any of their minds what I was really doing.

Once that initial panic abated, a whole new kind of terror set in.

Command might be fooled. Security and the techs might be fooled. But there's one person who knows. There's one other person who has the kind of access to Morrigan that I do.

Fuck fuck fuck.

No. She doesn't have the same access I do. I'm the fucking interloper here. It's her fucking machine. She has deeper access than I ever could. Morrigan was tailor made for her pilot. All the while, the pilot was broken and remade to forge connections I could only ever dream of. They're two halves of a whole. They can't hide anything from each other even if they wanted to.

It takes three days before the moment I have been dreading finally crystallizes into sharp reality.

I sit alone in a corner of the cafeteria, as I always do. I poke listlessly at something that I think is supposed to be fruit cocktail. I have read the same paragraph on my datapad three times already. I have just started on my fourth attempt when a figure slides onto the bench across from me.

I know exactly who it is before I glance halfway up to see the long slender fingers, one hand tapping restlessly, the other clenching a spoon as she surveys the mess of nutrient gel that they serve pilots. The sleeves of her sweatshirt are rolled up, revealing the skinsuit over skeletal arms.

I can't bring myself to do more than that quick glance at her hands.

I remember those piercing ice blue eyes… jesus fuck, it's only been three weeks since that moment we passed in the access corridor, when those eyes had pinned me in place.

I imagine those eyes boring into me now.

I know she's been to see Morrigan. The two of them had a training sim yesterday. They have another one in a couple of hours.

Her spoon scrapes against the cheap plastic of the bowl. The nutrient paste makes a sickening wet sound as it rises.

I am frozen in place. I can't leave. I can't read my datapad. I can't even pretend to eat any more.

The thing they never reveal in the propaganda vids is just how frail pilots are. The training, the conditioning, the hours and hours jacked into the machine being pumped full of a cocktail of artificial stress and reward hormones, they all ravage the body. The figure seated across from me can't be more than half my weight. In a stand up fight, I could probably break her in half.

I'm fucking terrified of her. I can barely breath as she takes another spoonful of gel.

The skin around the ports on my rig itch. Like my rig itself knows how inadequate it is in comparison to hers.

The spoon comes to rest on the tray alongside her bowl. She says nothing. Even in silence, she's a creature of action, unable to remain still. Her leg bounces just slightly. Her fingers tap out a complicated rhythm.

I force myself to look up, to meet her gaze.

The eyes are sharp. Sharper and clearer than I remembered when they wheeled her past me. But it is that same intensity that I remember.

She isn't smiling. She isn't frowning either. Her expression isn't doing much of anything, like she's forgotten how to express like a human being. Beneath the restless energy, she looks tired, all sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes, with a sickly pallor to her skin.

She looks like a pilot. If I hadn't broken, if I hadn't washed out, it is what I would have looked like.

An image flashes through my mind unbidden. I see us swapped. Me: hard, broken, tired. Her: soft, muscular, healthy… lonely.

The feeling washes over me, that horrible familiar, desperate loneliness.

She twitches, head cocking slightly as she sees something in my expression.

Oh… oh fuck.

She knows.

I had been so fucking scared of being caught out that I never considered how much had actually been revealed, how much of my aching soul left its mark in that cockpit like so many greasy fingerprints.

I have dreamed Morrigan's dreams. I have caught myself humming snatches of her song.

Neural bleed.

It always comes back to fucking neural bleed. Limited as my rig is, Morrigan has been in my head just as I have been in hers… and Morrigan is half of a whole.

The woman sitting across from me doesn't just recognize my face, she has seen the very core of me.

I let out a ragged breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.

When she finally does speak, her voice is husky murmur, hoarse from disuse.

“We should talk,” she says.

I nod weakly.

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 4)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: surprisingly enough, another creation from my own mind.

word count: 1,253k

summary: a trip out for dinner reminds you of just how much support you have.

genre: comfort/fluff warnings: grief, struggling, feeling of hopelessness? possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 2: here chapter 3: here

The next few days felt like they were moving in slow motion. Each morning you woke up, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to settle deeper in your bones, but you still put on a brave face. For Alexia. For the team. For yourself, even though that felt like a losing battle at times.

You spent most of your time either on the pitch or in your apartment, the latter mostly spent avoiding your thoughts and feeling your grief settle into your body like an anchor that refused to let go. Alexia had made it clear that she was there for you, but there was something inside you that still couldn’t let her in completely. Not yet. Not when it still felt too raw.

On the surface, things seemed to be going back to normal. You went to training, you smiled when required, and you participated when you had to, but it was all like you were moving through a fog, distant and disconnected from everything around you. You could hear the chatter, the banter from the team, but it felt muffled, like you were underwater.

The media wasn’t helping, either. Every interview, every appearance, always came with that dreaded question about your parents. It was like they could sense the vulnerability in your eyes, the cracks that were barely visible but enough to leave you shaking after each public moment. You wanted to shout, to tell them to leave you alone, but you knew it wasn’t just about you anymore. You had to live with the spotlight, even if it made your heart ache.

That’s when the texts from your aunt began.

Each message felt like a small jab to your already bruised soul. She wanted to meet again. She said it was time to “discuss the future” and how you’d handle everything that was left behind. The mere thought of it made your skin crawl.

You hadn’t responded to her at all. You knew exactly what she wanted, what she was after - anything she could claim as her own. You weren’t going to let her take what little you had left.

The day after another brutal press conference, you found yourself sitting in the locker room with Alexia. Everyone else had left to grab food, but you stayed behind, sitting on the bench with your head in your hands, the exhaustion from holding everything together for the past few days finally catching up to you.

Alexia walked in quietly, and without saying a word, she sat beside you, her presence a steady force next to you. You didn’t look up at first, but you felt her eyes on you, the concern in them almost tangible.

“Chica,” she said softly, her voice laced with warmth and something else. Worry? Fear? You couldn’t be sure.

You finally looked at her, meeting her gaze with a half-hearted smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

Alexia didn’t buy it, of course. She leaned in slightly, her face closer now, close enough for you to feel the soft warmth of her breath. “You don’t look fine, amor.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, trying to wipe away the frustration, the ache. “It’s just… everything. It feels like it's all crashing down on me, and I can’t get away from it. Not even for a second.”

Alexia nodded in understanding, her expression softening, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. “I know. I know it’s hard. But you’re not alone in this, Y/N. You don’t have to go through it by yourself.”

You met her gaze again, and for the first time in a while, you felt something like relief - like you could finally admit to yourself that you needed help. But then, just as quickly, the weight of your aunt’s messages flooded your mind, and you felt the tension return.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can face her again. I don’t know how to make it all stop.”

Alexia’s hand found yours, her fingers wrapping around yours tightly, grounding you in the moment. “You don’t have to do it alone, I told you that. And we’ll face her together. You have your team, and you have me. Don’t forget that, okay?”

You blinked back the tears threatening to fall, fighting to keep the storm inside at bay. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Alexia - it was that you couldn’t bring yourself to fully let anyone in. Not yet. Not when everything still felt so fragile.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you muttered, feeling the weight of those words more than you wanted to.

Alexia’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it was as if the whole world outside of the locker room had faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, sitting there in silence, the bond between you unspoken but clear.

“You are stronger than you think,” she said gently, squeezing your hand. “And when you feel like you’re not, I’ll be here. And the team will be here. We’ve got you, Y/N.”

You nodded, a lump in your throat as you squeezed her hand back. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone. Maybe, this time, you could lean on someone who truly cared.

A couple of days later, Alexia insisted that you accompany her to dinner with a few of the others. You had been avoiding social situations, sticking mostly to your apartment or training, but Alexia was determined, and you couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face the world again, but for her, you would try.

The restaurant was quiet, and as soon as you walked in, a few of the team members - Mapi, Lucy, Keira, and Ingrid - waved at you from their corner booth. You forced a smile and made your way over, the familiar faces a welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for days.

“¿Cómo estás?” Mapi asked, her tone gentle but probing. You could see the concern in her eyes, the way she was waiting for the truth.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as you avoided eye contact for a moment. “I’m managing. Just… trying to keep going.”

Keira smiled softly. “It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know. We get it. And we’ll be here, no matter what.”

Lucy chimed in, her accent thick as always. “Yeah, and if you ever need to talk - or if you want us to come smash a few things together - just say the word.”

That earned a small laugh from you, something that felt foreign and strange after all this time. But it felt good. Real. Like you didn’t have to carry the weight of your grief alone.

“Thanks, chicas,” you whispered, feeling the tears start to sting again. “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

Alexia reached over and squeezed your hand under the table, offering a soft smile. “You’ll never have to find out, cariño. You’ve got us. Always.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe her.

The world outside was still chaotic. Your aunt still lingered like a shadow, waiting to make her move. But you didn’t have to face it all right now. Right now, you had the people who loved you by your side. And for now, that was enough.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 20

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19

• ··········· • ············ •

Alena's amused chuckle made you feel a little at ease when she placed her hands on the sheets and pulled them away after adding a mint medical mask on her face.

“So…” She started talking at the same time her gloved hands touched skin, and you took a deep breath. “...you go from wanted criminal to the heir of an up-and-coming minor house. And if that's not enough, you are buddies with the great founders of Hextech, one of whom is a councillor.”

"You forgot that I am also the center of a lot of gossip." You kept your eyes on her hands, almost willing them to keep being human.

"I know!" Her eyes squinted in delight, and she let her hands stay there for a moment. "Rags to riches!"

“What can I say?” You relaxed as the weight, warmth, and feel of her hand became normal against you.

She subtly nodded, her eyes becoming soft and then shifting to a more jovial and casual gaze. Her hands slowly made their way towards the bandages on your wounds. 

“Mmm…How about... how's the view from up there?” She joked, and you felt her slowly peel off one of the bandages.

“Heh...Not particularly exciting. A lot of egos and dinner parties." You rolled your eyes, and Alena inspected the wounds, poking at the one she had unbandaged. 

You nodded, signaling you were alright, and she kept going.

"I would love to be a fly on the wall." She stopped prodding and looked straight at you, eyes swimming with humor.

"Trust me...It's not that thrilling. You go to one, you go all. After a few of those, even the gossip becomes stale."

"I don't believe that." She pushed a small wheeled tray that one left next to the bedside table and started to clean the wound. You flinched at the sting, and she looked at you. 

Alena grabbed a new sterile bandage and glued it in place, moving towards another. It didn't hurt or make your mind jump through the hoops of panic, but it was uncomfortable, mostly because the wounds felt foreign. Like when you'd discover a paper cut that you didn't know you had. 

"I've heard the story that I am the illegitimate daughter of my mother about a hundred times. Or that I am only here for her money."

"They tell you that to your face?" She sounded shocked.

"Nah...but they say it to Mel's face, who then tells it to Jayce, who then tells it to Viktor, who then tells it to me." You rolled your eyes. "Sometimes, Jayce just skips the Viktor part and goes straight to me."

"Imagine that... Having the councilors of this great city doing your dirty work." You both laughed at her tone. 

“Sky Young.” You looked up at Alena. “Do you know how she is? Viktor told me she was a little shocked with what happened, but nothing more.”

“Miss Young is a little shaken up, yes, but other than that, healthy. The doctors are advising her to stay at home for a couple of days." Alenas restarted her wound inspections, her hands no longer feeling strange to your skin. "I believe that seeing someone get shot by three bolts is not exactly in her job description. She was brought in with you. According to the two hex-heads, she fainted." 

Alena started on the last wound and took a deep breath, and you noticed she was looking at the last wound with curiosity and doubt.

"Hex-heads?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The heads of Hextech." She winked at you, and you shook your head.

"Ah! I gotta keep that one for next time."

"I'll be here all night." 

“Well, whatever they got in the water over on the top Topside, it got you healing fast." You moved your neck to try and peek at the wounds, Alena moving her hand to let you see. "When they admitted you, you were on the straight and narrow to get a blood transfusion ASAP."

They looked like ugly brown holes in your skin, scabby and slightly angry. The edges were still red, but they looked healthy from where you sat. Your eyes shifted to her questioning.

"They look like they were healing for a week; it's been 2 days. You should start selling whatever they have been giving you to eat or drink." She sounded like she was laughing, but something in her voice told you there was something there, a little ping in her tone that gave it a twang of suspicion. You've heard it in Viktor's accent before; it was unmistakable.

“I felt them go through me.” You lied easily with one hand pointing to the back, and Alena nodded.

"Those are healing just as well, if not faster." There it was, the little hint that there was something she wasn't telling you. "I saw them before you woke up when your knight in a shining cane went to the cafeteria."

She resumes her ministrations, cleaning and redressing the remaining wound. Her fingers were gentle but efficient, not lingering more than needed.

“They look almost cauterized." She poked one harder, and you flinched. "Sorry."

You shook your head, dismissing it, now more interested in what she was thinking than the discomfort. There was a glint in her eyes, and you were the best friend of two scientists; some of their curiosity was bound to rub off on you.

She sighed and redressed the last wound, then she looked at the clock in the room and leaned a hip on your bed.

"Is that one special?" You joked when she took more time on that one than the rest.

"Oh. No... Sorry." She straightened up, and you raised both your eyebrows.

"Oh come on now, don't keep me in suspense here. What's going on?"

Uh-oh.

“Councilor Tallis...Jayce...says it was in did cauterized by the bolt because he was working on some crystals."

“You don’t sound very convinced.” She gave you a one-shoulder shrug very similar to those that Viktor gave when he knew something and he wanted to tell you, but you had to fish it out of him. “Go on…”

“What do you know of magic?” She asked, looking at the last wound and refreshing it with the whitest bandage you’ve ever seen. 

“Well, my Babička…Grandmother…Knew someone who had magic. He had come to Zaun when my grandmother was still a child, and he was already very old, and that’s how she knew he had to be magic.”

“That's not a type of medicine you study in nursing school.” You tried to make a joke, quickly hiding your shock at her question.

"Well, you wanted to know." She shrugged and started to clean up the tray, taking off her mask in the process.

"Alright. I don't know much." You lied, flexing your scarred hand under the sheets. "I know fairytales and old stories.”

Alena looked at you, her eyes bright with excitement over telling this story to someone. With every word, her accent became closer and closer to the Zaunite lilt. You noticed her tidying up task became more of an excuse to be here than anything else. 

 “Your grandmother knew someone was a mage because he was old?” You hit the button to bring your bed head upwards slightly, your neck already in pain from craning it up.

“No…Well, yes. Because every time she saw him, he was always old.” She grabbed a small cotton ball and embedded it with alcohol, slowly cleaning anything she could find on that tray. “She would talk to him sometimes, and he never denied he was magic.”

“Did he ask her for money? Because that sounds like a scam to me.” You grinned at her.

“That’s because you are a topsider…” She joked, and you nodded after a while, recognizing the jab as true. “Anyway, he wandered around Zaun for a while carving strange symbols into the stone of certain places in the Undercity. Not just stone. Some people say they saw him write things in the air. Sometimes he would disappear for years at a time and then reappear, carve another symbol, and puff…gone.”

“Sounds like an asshole…leaving your grandmother hanging like that.” You joked, and she snorted, shrugging nonchalantly.

It amused you to no end that her accent became deeper and more pronounced with each word, and at the same time you were apprehensive about the old man.

“Yes, but one time she says she asked him what the symbols were, and he just said ‘kouzelnictví’...magic...”

“He answered that with that exact word? He was a Zaunite?!”

“Well, I’m sure Zaun is not the only place in Runeterra with that tongue. Besides, if he is magic, I suppose he can talk in any language, no?"

"Anyway, she asked him what the last symbol he had carved was, and he said 'oheň'...fire.” She became more excited, leaving the tools on the tray and starting to talk with her hands. “And my grandmother got scared. Most of Zaun at the time was very flammable. But he told her that fire is not always bad. It is what people in a snowstorm desire the most, the warmth of a fire. It could destroy but also be used to weld and create beautiful, perfect things.” 

“...Fire heals more than it destroys.” She said with finality and showed you the skin on her wrist. "Grandmother opened an apothecary not long after, and after that everyone in the family became a healer."

You frowned, pensive, your eyes unfocusing on her for a moment. 

The ceiling in red tones, the soft boiling sound, the black cracks, the burning sensation in your abdomen. All fire-related.

Your eyes focused on her exposed wrist and widened, a single breath caught in your throat.

Tattooed on her wrist was a familiar shape. In bright reds and oranges was a mirrored and smaller version of the rune that had appeared on the ceiling of the lab. You wanted to touch it but were afraid you would unwillingly speak it, making it jump out of her skin and do something.

“And how can you heal someone with fire?” Alena turned her sleeve back down, and you looked at her, eyes still wide. “Cauterizing. You can stop something as dangerous as a lost limb by burning the stump. Your body temperature flares up to fight infections.”

For a second you just blinked at her, your mind reeling at the thought of this old mage going around Zaun drawing runes. 

"You think I was healed by magic?" You managed to splurt out in your state of astonishment. 

"I don't know, but... I saw the wounds when you arrived; they were burned on the edges, and then the healing process? It's too quick to be natural." She came closer to you and whispered. "If you ask me, they were doing something with magic... real magic! The ancient kind, not their usual kind."

"A twelve-sided—" 

"What other runes... did your grandma know?"

"Oh..." She stopped for a while, her eyes searching for an answer. "She didn't mention it anymore, but as she got older, she got obsessed with dodecahedrons, and when we asked her about it, she always talked about the old man."

Your face dropped when a memory of a blackboard with twelve bullet points on it flashed into your brain. 

You laughed as naturally as you could, and she grinned back at you. The casual conversation was interrupted by someone calling Alena on the hospital speaker. You found out then she also didn't have a last name.

"Twelve facets of the arcane." You mumbled, and Alena's eyes narrowed. "The arcane has twelve basic facets, sides...like a dodecahedron..."

"So you do know about magic..."

"I only connected it now. They use it in hextech. Or tried to...I don't know..."

"Oh, spilling secrets now are we?" She joked, but when your face didn't accompany her humor, she paused. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Sorry." You tried to quickly put yourself together. "Viktor and I were talking about it the other day, and now you talked about it... I was just surprised by the coincidence."

"Oh! Well, maybe I am right and you were healed by it...You call on it, and it answered."

"Duty calls." She patted your knee. "I'll check back on you later. You should rest before visiting hours; I'm sure at least your mother will want to barrel in here."

You laughed softly and nodded.

Alena opened the door and waved back at you, clipboard in hand, and waved at you, completely oblivious to the running thoughts in your head.

“Oh... Wait..." You called when she reached the door. "Do you…Can you tell me where these symbols are?”

“Mmmm. Sorry. I wouldn't know. They probably built over them. If it's even true." She gave you a sad smile.

“Yeah, you're right.” 

You hadn't lied to her...not completely. You and Viktor had indeed talked about this. Just not in this dimension.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd

[poetinthelakes]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© POETINTHELAKES 2025

[oharaslove]

We’ve always seen Grumpy x Sunshine when it comes to Miguel and Reader. Today I present you with Grumpy x Grumpy

Reader who never showed a smile towards anyone in the Society. 

Miguel who notices them in the group meetings. Every Spider has a sense of humour, they smile through the pain, but you didn’t. You were always with a serious expression. You were integrated, at the same time though, you seemed closed off. Not letting anyone come close. 

Miguel who takes interest. There is only one place for a Grumpy person in this lab, and that’s him. Or at least, most people say he is grumpy, not that he believes it 100%. 

Reader who enjoys spending time by herself, recluding to the rooftop of the Society. A place that, weirdly enough, no one frequents. 

Miguel who looks for Reader in the common spaces, but doesn’t have luck. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted with you, but there was something pulling him towards your person. Did he want to be friends? Was he just curious? No idea.

Miguel who has to admit to Lyla what he is doing, having to accept her teases. “Oooohhh Miguel has got a crush” At which Miguel rolls his eyes. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you! How could he have a crush? he definitely has. If it were any other Spider, he would probably not care, but you. You had something. 

Lyla who, after an uncountable amount of mocking, takes pity on Miguel and reveals your location. Miguel who sees you through the security camera, sitting at the edge, dangling your feet. 

Miguel who marches towards your location. No plan in his head. He was just going with the flow. His body guiding him towards what it wanted. You

Reader who is startled by the sudden sound of someone opening the door to the rooftop. Who the hell comes here?. You turned around, spotting Miguel silently watching you from the doorway. You turn around again, rolling your eyes. Whatever. 

Miguel who approaches you. What the hell has he come here for? It’s been a looong minute since he has spoken to a woman, other than work stuff.

Miguel who just stands there, looking off at the distance, while keeping an eye on you from time to time. He was just testing the water, yeah. 

Reader who finds it weird, but let’s it happen. Miguel is the leader of the society after all. Besides, you knew (or at least heard) that he was “grumpy”. Problem, you didn’t know if he really was, or like you, he was misunderstood by everyone. In doubt, better keep quiet. 

Miguel who after a while, decides to go. That was embarrassing enough. But don’t get confused, he would come back, he just needed a plan. 

Miguel who, the first week, just stands there, getting comfortable with your presence, hoping you do too. Until….

“You know you can sit, right?” “Uh… I-” He stutters, not expecting you to talk. You scooch over, even though there is plenty of space. Miguel sits, rather close. He enjoys the view now, but most importantly, the heat emanating from your body. He sighs, step 1 down. 

Days turned into weeks. Now, you two were comfortable. Not yet talking much, but sitting next to each other, enjoying each other’s company while enjoying the skyline. Miguel hadn’t realised how much he needed this, relax. After a day being cooped up in the lab, this was a nice change. You would share food with each other, a lovely and quiet picnic between two friends? A boss and a worker? Co-workers? He had no clue, but whatever it was, he liked it. 

But… he wanted more. He felt the need to know you better. So.. that’s how the conversations started. About whatever, whoever… didn’t matter. What matter was that step 2 was down. 

Step 3 was by far the hardest one. Make you laugh. At least a small giggle or a smile, Miguel would be happy with either one. 

Granted, Miguel wasn’t good with jokes either. He didn’t know how the other Spiders did it. But thankfully, as a man of science, he knew how to achieve a goal. 

Miguel who spends quite some time observing the other Spiders. He never had a reason to, but now, he did. He thought that you would like it if he was funny, like the others. Yeah, surely, why wouldn’t you?

Miguel who writes some jokes and practises how to deliver them, over and over again. Lyla was having a blast. The big, “bad”, “grumpy” leader of the Spider Society, creator of Nueva York, was mad about another person. 

Miguel, nervous af, goes to your spot. After meeting for quite some time, you two develop a routine. Always at the same hour, same place. 

Reader who is already there, waiting. You really enjoyed meeting with Miguel, you felt he was the only one who understood you. 

Miguel who slowly approaches you. He could feel sweat dribble from his temple, down to his neck. 

Miguel checks the paper on his hand. Yeah, these jokes would do. 

Miguel who, after a peaceful chit chat, feels comfortable enough to start trying with the jokes. They were awful, to say the least. 

“How would you describe Spiderman’s perfect home? The world wide web!”

Miguel who after every stupid joke watches your reaction. At first, you are confused, but as jokes go by, he can see you trying hard not to smile. 

“What is–” “What are you doing?” you said, your lips tugging up into a smile. you were so adorable. “What do you mean?” “The jokes” you clarify, your smile widening. “I– I was trying to be funny, like the other Spidermen. People seem to like them. I–” “Don’t” you interrupt, your tone and expression serious. 

Miguel wanted to be swallowed by the Earth. He scrunches the paper and fists it. This was all a waste— “I like you just the way you are” You confess, making Miguel snap his head towards you, eyes wide like plates. 

“You– you do?” He must have misheard you. “Mhh” you mumbled, nodding. “Just,” you bite your lip, debating if you should say it or not. “Just be my Miguel. The one you’ve always been” And you smile as bright as the sun, warming Miguel’s hug. 

“Your Miguel” he repeats in a trance. You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile that had been printed on your face. Nothing could wipe it now. 

Miguel mirrors you, smiling from ear to ear. He looks at his clenched fist, the paper sticking out. He looks at you and laughs, throwing the paper into the city. “I’ll be your Miguel then” He scooches closer to you, giving you the opportunity to lean on his chest, as he rounds your body with his arm. 

“Yeah, my Miguel” you sighed, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. His warm body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

Miguel who kisses the top of your head, before resting his cheek against it. He sighs, step 3 and goal down. 

To the world, you were two Grumpy people. But between you, days were spent between laughs and giggles. Kisses being interrupted by smiles. Just seeing each other made you happy. Life was warm, yellow and red, all together. It didn’t matter how the rest saw you, just that you two were happy and in love.