#brennan thicke

[nerds-yearbook]

The first episode of Mask aired on September 30, 1985. ("The Deathstone", MASK, TV Event)

[cakemoney]

going ;A; at evan and jammer clearing the air about what family on six means and going ;A; at tabby reflecting evan's desperation for belonging and fear of being abandoned and going ;A; at k asking if she has enthusiastic consent while going 👉👈

[sophiaforevs]

I wonder how well an "It's just an empty box" episode of Game Changer would go. Just a series of challenges that look fucking suspicious as hell but with absolutely nothing more than face value about them. Then you just have Sam act suspicious the entire episode and see where things go from there. Ideas I have are:

Ominous spotlight illuminates one of the players.

Pick a word someone says or action someone does a lot. Play a little chime anytime it happens.

Legal paperwork is brought out mid episode. It's dense and 200-300 pages thick.

A small black box is brought out. There's a small hole cut in it. Sam says the box is definitely empty and they just have to put their hands in. Don't worry, there's nothing there. Why are you crying?

Randomly start saying "Sam Says" but assure contestants they're not playing Sam Says.

Drop a mannequin from the ceiling.

This has been my pitch for "Give Brennan an ulcer 2024."

[auraisereigh]

"Haunted hours"

standalone

Brennan Sorrengail x reader Blurb: Brennan helps reader with Haunted sleepless nights. wc: 4.9 ☆ no spoilers for the books. yet another personal one that happened last night mentions of nightmares, terror, sleep paralysis. overthinking. i did make this one more neutrel so it's not completly how i felt last night but keep in mind its all very emotional and has to do with self-worth and insecurities. Uses pronouns: she/her., i think, i'm actually not sure but i'm too sick to check.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

The days have been long, and the nights even longer. My mind is fine during the day, but at night, it spirals. Thoughts wander to unpleasant places, no matter how hard I try to keep them away.

Waking up at the start of the day, I felt fine. I was the same person who tried to be happy and positive about everything, no matter what. You’d barely notice a difference. Almost none at all. The only thing was that my heart felt heavy, and it ached.

At night, however, everything came crumbling down. My emotions and feelings would flood through me, and there was almost nothing I could do to stop them.

Brennan had noticed it, too. He’d tried to get me to sleep, but he always fell asleep before I did. It had been a few long weeks, and it made sense—he was exhausted.

Tonight was one of those nights. I lay wide awake while he slept beside me. I didn’t know what to do. I’d been wanting to read, but I would have to light a candle, and I didn’t want to risk waking him. He needed his sleep. It would be selfish to light a candle.

So I lay there, watching the clock tick past midnight. 1 a.m... 2 a.m...

Sleep medicine felt pointless. The moment I closed my eyes, the worries returned, haunting me. Staying awake seemed like the only way to escape them.

I sat up and pulled off my sweater. The more time passed, the hotter it became. Maybe it was Brennan’s body heat transferring to me. Not that I’d complain—I usually had to bundle myself up because I got cold so easily.

I tossed the sweater toward the end of the bed. At some point, I’d probably become cold again, and then I’d curse myself for throwing it that far.

I felt movement beside me and turned to see Brennan, who was supposed to be sound asleep. But as I looked at him, our eyes locked. His hair was disheveled, a little all over the place, but it only made him look softer.

“You’re still awake,” he whispered. His arm moved to my waist, his hand resting there as he caressed me.

He rolled onto his side and wrapped both arms around me, pulling me close. I let him, resting my head on his chest. I could feel and hear his heart beating. It had become one of the most soothing sounds in my life, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voices in my head—the ones that kept whispering negative things.

“It’s okay, my love,” Brennan reassured me. One of his hands tangled in my hair, slowly massaging my scalp. I took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent.

He pulled back slightly so we could look at each other, his other hand cupping my face and tracing my cheek.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I know it’s harder for you at night, but I’m right here,” he murmured. His voice was raw with sleep, but his words soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain. Just knowing he was here, that I wasn’t alone, no matter how often I felt that way.

He pulled the thick blanket higher over us, cocooning us in its warmth. Both of his hands returned to my hair, and he pressed a tender kiss to my temple.

“Talk to me,” he said, looking at me expectantly. “Excuse me?” I replied, a little confused. I thought we’d settled that I didn’t want to talk about it now. Why bring it up again?

“Talk to me, smartie. Any fact or folklore that comes to mind. Just tell me,” he encouraged. His voice was smooth and gentle. He knew I’d spent hours reading and studying folklore, facts, and history. It was one of the most interesting things to me, even if parts of history were inaccurate.

I kept quiet for a while, my mind blank except for the emotional weight I’d been carrying. Everything keeps pilling up and there was nothing i could do to stop it, to make it feel lighter.

Brennan reached behind me and grabbed one of my three dragon plushies—a green one. He placed it beside us with delicate care. “What are green dragons known for?” he challenged softly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Greens are known for being the most reasonable. Their original hatching grounds were at Basgiath, but after unification, they offered their grounds to all dragonkind, as it was the safest place for their hatchlings. It’s unknown whether both green dragon lines shared the same grounds before unification,” I recited smoothly. Dragon lore was my favorite. It also happened to be the topic I knew most about.

His eyes lit up slightly. “There’s my smart girl,” he praised, and my heart swelled at the nickname. I’d always loved nicknames—they made me feel loved and wanted.

He picked up another small plush, a blue one I’d named Tàlaidh, meaning lullaby. The blue dragon was my first dragon plush, and during nights of nightmares, terrors, and sleep paralysis, Tàlaidh was always there to make me feel safe. Even if it was silly.

He placed it next to the green. “What about blues?” he asked gently, his eyes still on me.

“Blues are ruthless, strong-willed, and lethal. They’re intimidating and rule-breakers,” I answered. My head started feeling heavy, my eyelids drooping as I spoke. “Impressive,” Brennan replied as his hand traced my shoulder.

Finally, he picked up the last plush—a slightly larger orange dragon—and placed it between the smaller ones. “Now, my love, what do you know about oranges? But be careful; your answer may determine how long this marriage lasts,” he teased.

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. It wasn’t much, but even that tiny smile made me feel a little better.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he whispered, softly brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Oranges are unpredictable,” I started, closing my eyes for a moment. “Their original hatching grounds were in the Northern Esbens, but due to their unpredictable nature, they moved around the area a lot.” When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me with such adoration that it made me wonder how I deserved it.

“And yours? You’re basically obsessed with your dragon,” he teased, his touch on my cheek soft and loving.

“Reds are loyal...” I began, but a yawn interrupted me, and I couldn’t bring myself to say more. Brennan must have noticed. He tucked me in closer, pressing a soft kiss to my temple before resting his head against mine, his arms wrapping around me.

“Let me continue,” he murmured lovingly against my temple. His voice started to fade as I drifted off. “Black dragons are rare. They are extremely smart...” His words became softer, a lullaby pulling me into sleep.

Brennan stopped speaking when he noticed I’d fallen asleep.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard right now, but I vowed that I’d never leave you alone. And I never will.”

A promise.

♡

[stardustedknuckles]

I was gonna put it in the tags of a post aabria made but didn't want to be like "hey also my thing!" on a serious post so like. She's pointed out that people's unwillingness to understand that people in the citadel have been and are being good to Suvi absolutely sucks ass and she's right. I admire Suvi as a character and Aabria as the player so much as someone who grew up in church - not just in it but of it. Dad was a pastor, I was in the choir, I taught classes, the whole shebang.

Almost everything about church was fucked to hell, looking back, and I'll carry damage and guilt from it for a longer time yet. Possibly forever. But the people I learned from, admired, befriended, and surrounded myself with were not evil colonizers looking to eradicate every other religion or force convert people or what have you. They were just people living under an ideology that did a whole lot of harm to people outside of it and demanded, as part of its tenets, that you restrict yourself from mingling too much with the Others lest you be confused and turn away from what is written. Hell the Citadel hasn't shown itself to be even that pervasive. I haven't heard a single person question Suvi's conviction to the work of the citadel because of the company she keeps.

Anyway my point is that there is absolutely no reason for Suvi to turn on or even grossly doubt the Citadel, questions about the spells on her nonwithstanding. Aabria is playing on a level of refusing to meta game that is incredible to watch and which makes her point of view very easy to relate to. Suvi's community is stepping up for her. Her friends love her, AND they are upset for valid reasons and puzzling through their own ways of looking at the world - ways that do not come with a manual/guide the way life at the Citadel does. Nothing has been laid before Suvi at this point that would warrant more than a few concerns, let alone full divestment from the Citadel and everyone else Suvi has ever loved, certainly not in the name of two people she would give her life for but who do not in any way have their shit together.

They're just people. Steel is a good person. She is kind, she is sincere, frighteningly intelligent, and a fierce advocate not only for those who are hers but those outside the citadel who deserve respect for the way they see the world and move through it.

Steel is also the right hand of the empire. That is, in fact, the point.

I'm sorry a lot of y'all can only handle stories that soothe hard choices with "well they were bad/mean to you/bigots anyway" and lay it on thick until the moment the character has had enough. That's not actually how any of this works and the realer view of how someone like Suvi would in fact view the world and her place in it is airtight. The chops on Aabria for sticking to it and on Brennan for refusing to mark citadel citizens as evil across the board (or hardly at all) is incredible and the refusal to entertain those ideas as a fan is in fact a skill issue in nearly every case.

[callsign-rogueone]

you called - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader You're captured by gryphon fliers while out alone on patrol, but Brennan comes to your rescue. [request] words: 1.7k 🏷: no book spoilers, as this occurs years before Fourth Wing, soon after Bren graduated from Basgiath. gender neutral reader in an established romantic relationship with Brennan. brief / vague descriptions of interrogation, torture, and inhumane treatment of reader by fliers, but Bren mends you and takes care of you (lots of cuddles). your dragon is mated to Marbh. her name is Fuir, a shortened form of the word for "alive" since Marbh means "dead". you sleep in Bren's shirt but there's no description of how it fits on you. wrote this in an hour and didn't edit so be nice pls

It’s easy enough to find the cell block. You’re the only prisoner there, with just one guard posted outside that Brennan makes quick work of, taking the keys from his belt to unlock the door.

He kneels down by your side, comforted by the rise and fall of your chest -- he’d known that you were still alive, because he is, as are Fuir and Marbh, but the visual confirmation is soothing.

He wraps a hand around your wrist to block the pain, using the other to start mending your wounds. Whoever had been interrogating you must have had a very short temper; your temples are bloodied, a few of your ribs bruised or broken, several small cuts dotting the exposed skin of your arms -- they’d taken your flight jacket, as a trophy.

He burns with anger, but forces himself to focus on the good, the fact that you’re still alive in front of him, that he’d found you before it was too late.

You finally open those pretty eyes, struggling to focus your gaze on him, but you put it together quickly enough. “Bren,” you murmur, delirious, “you came.”

“You called,” he answers simply, still working on mending your wounds.

It takes you a moment to work through the thick fog of what is definitely a concussion, but you realize he must have heard your desperate cries for help down the bond and came to find you; your plan worked.

You’d wanted to give up hope after the first day, but accepting your death meant accepting Brennan’s as well, and you couldn’t let him die like that, so you persevered. You’d forced yourself to eat what meager portions of food they’d given you, to drink the foul-tasting water and sleep as much as you could, to keep yourself alive.

Whenever they left you alone, you’d tried to reach for Fuir, for Brennan and Marbh, for your magic, getting no responses. After two days, you realized that they must have put a power-dampener in that water, like the one the professors had dosed you with before RSC to disconnect you from your dragons. So you’d stopped drinking it, pouring it out instead to make it look like you had -- and that night, you’d finally felt that little red string connecting you to Fuir, and the shimmering orange one that leads you to Brennan and Marbh. 

You’d cried in relief, trying to reach out to them, but your words had quickly turned to screams of pain as the officer returned to try to get information out of you again. They must have figured out your scheme, because the beating was the worst that day -- they’d hardly ever left you alone, giving you less than an hour between rounds of questioning.

You close your eyes again, realizing that this is probably a dream, a hallucination brought on by days of isolation in this dark room with only enough food and water to keep you alive. You aren’t really aware of how long it’s been. There’s no sunlight down here, and they haven’t been feeding you on a regular schedule, so you couldn’t keep track by counting the meals, either.

“I thought Navarre didn’t bother with extractions,” you mumble. 

“They don’t. So I might be court-martialed when we get back, but I don’t care. I couldn’t leave you here.”

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Shouldn’t have gone off on my own. Thank you for finding me.”

“Don’t apologize, love. And I’ll always find you,” he promises, stroking your hair. “We’re tied together, aren’t we?”

You manage a soft laugh that quickly turns into a cough, your throat dry and raw from the screaming and from days without much water.

He decides he’s mended you enough for now -- you should be able to move now without injuring yourself further, and you really need to get out of here. “Up you get,” he coaxes, hooking an arm around your waist and helping you up from the floor.

Someone is waiting for you in the hallway -- someone dressed in black. A rider.  “Nao?” you ask, blinking at him. You really must be hallucinating.

The older rider smiles at you. “Hi, kid. Good to see you in one piece.” He turns to Brennan. “There’s two guards at each exit. We can take them, but they’ll probably sound an alarm.”

The two men continue to strategize, and you try to follow along, but most of the words go in one ear and out the other. You settle for leaning against Brennan and trying to stay awake.

“Hello, sweet one,” Fuir says gently, and you nearly cry at the familiar voice back in your head after days of isolation.

“Hi,” you respond in a whisper.

Brennan and Naolin have agreed on a plan, and you follow them closely, staying by Brennan’s side as they lead you out of the compound. Naolin makes quick work of both of the guards, knocking them out easily, and you slip past the treeline into the forest.

It’s freezing outside, literally -- your boots make tracks through the half-inch of snow on the ground that continues to fall gently, tiny flakes drifting through the air and coating everything in a thin layer of white.

You rub your hands over your arms, trying to keep warm. Brennan drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and you burrow into it, happy to be wrapped in the warmth and softness of the fur-collared fabric and the comforting smell of your partner. 

You finally spot Fuir -- she looks a little worse for wear, too, cuddled up with Marbh, who is licking her wounds like an oversized cat. Cute.

“Can you still make it home?” you ask, concerned.

She sounds slightly offended. “Of course I can. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She lays down, making it easier for you to climb up her leg. As you settle into your seat, you can feel invisible bands of magic keeping you in place -- you breathe a sigh of relief that you won’t have to worry about keeping your seat as you pass over the mountain range. You have no idea how long of a flight it’s going to be, but you don’t think you could handle more than a few minutes in the saddle.

“Now would be an excellent time to leave!” Naolin shouts from his perch on the back of Tairn’s neck.

You turn your head, seeing three gryphons closing in from your right. Shit.

“We’ll be fine,” she soothes. “If we get high enough, they won’t be able to follow us.”

You shut your eyes tightly as the cold wind hits your cheeks, making your eyes water -- they’d taken your goggles too, and all your knives, everything except your base layer of clothing. She raises her head, blocking the worst of it, tightening up her formation with Tairn and Marbh, letting each of them protect you from one side.

“I think we lost them,” Brennan tells you through the bond, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Fuir adjusts the invisible ties keeping you seated, guiding you forward to lean against the back of her neck. “Rest. It’s another hour to get home.”

You hum in reply, pulling Brennan’s cloak tighter around your shoulders and relaxing into her. She feels warmer than usual, likely because you’re freezing cold.

You wake to the feeling of the wind dying down, and her wings stilling as she lands.

She settles down into the snowy grass, letting you climb down slowly. 

Brennan is waiting on the ground to help you, gathering you into his arms. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he coaxes.

You shake your head no. “Want you to do it,” you say quietly. 

He caves easily, leading you to his room, keeping you tucked into his side with a strong arm around your waist. Nobody questions it or stops you on the way up, your bloodied appearance perfectly normal for a rider.

He settles you into his desk chair, starting to mend the smaller cuts and bruises that he hadn’t gotten to earlier. The warmth of his hands and the feeling of the aching pain subsiding relaxes you, your eyes falling shut.

“You think you can shower?” he asks gently.

You nod. You don’t want to get up, but you do feel absolutely disgusting after the last four days, and a shower is definitely in order. Two showers, probably. 

You follow him into the en-suite bathroom, going through the motions without thought -- washing the blood from your skin, scrubbing off the dirt and making an attempt at washing your hair. Brennan stands by your side, showering himself in near-silence, washing off the day. 

He wraps you in a warm towel, letting you rest against him for a moment. “You should eat something,” he says gently.

You burrow deeper into him in protest. “Later,” you murmur. You just want to sleep. It’s late, nearing lights-out anyway, and you need to rest up for the inevitable scolding you’re going to get tomorrow morning.

“Do you want one of your shirts, or mine?” he asks.

“Yours, please,” you answer quietly; his clothes are always more comfortable, more comforting to you, and you could use that extra layer of his presence right now. You finish drying yourself off, letting him slip one of his black tunics over your head and wiggling your arms into the sleeves.

He pulls the covers back, motioning for you to climb into bed with him. The softness of the mattress underneath you and the feel of warm, clean blankets against your skin after three days of sleeping on a dirty stone floor is overwhelming. You finally start to cry, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re safe, my love,” he soothes, holding you close. “You’re home, with me.”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to steady your breathing. “I know, I just…”

He shushes you softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you, and that I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”

You nod against his shoulder. “Love you too,” you sniff. “Thank you for finding me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I will always find you.”

You relax into him, comforted by the warmth of his body against yours, the muscled arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne that lingers on the sheets. This is the safest place in the world, right here -- not Navarre, not the fortress, but this room, this bed, because Brennan is in it, holding you.

“Get some sleep,” he encourages. “I’ll be right here with you.”

You hum in reply, nuzzling your cheek into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.

[keyaho]

.summary. it was the start of the new school year. terry & blaire begin the steps of reconnecting as aaron and Brennan focus on branching out. a new family arrives to MPA.

.chapter warnings. themes of sex, slightly vulgar language :: Blaire pov | Brennan pov

co-writer: @zillasvilla

Noah was in bed by eight-thirty. Again, he requested his Dad’s attention and she sat on her bed slightly miffed about it. Prior to her shower, Terry had brought Noah in to say goodnight. She ran her hands over her son’s new cut again. Just a bit longer than his father’s cut but with those infamous little lines cut in. She had thought Noah wanted to sleep in her bed again, but one look from his Dad and he was telling her that he was a big boy and needed to sleep in his bed. Blaire shot a look at Terry then smiled at her son. After a kiss on the forehead, cheek, and a tight hug Noah was bouncing back towards his room. 

Now she was waiting for Terry, again, after her shower. They hadn’t shared a bed since last year and as large as the bed was he made it feel small.  She had some last minute work to catch up on and had those papers spread out on the bed beside her. Blaire chewed on her pen, flipping through files and signing off on important documents. The door was already open so when Terry walked in she didn’t notice him. He ditched his shirt on his way to the bed and she eyed the familiar tattoos that decorated his forearms. The lion had a chokehold on black men. 

“How much do you have left?” Terry asked. He slid in the bed behind her, his chest to her back and his hands resting on her thigh. “I want some attention.” 

“Not much,’ she didn’t want to lean into the embrace but she couldn’t hide that she missed him. She missed him so much. 

She told him as much. The warmth of his body pressed up against her as he looked over her shoulder. His thick arm flexed before he placed his hand on her stomach and kissed the side of her neck. The last thing they needed to be doing was having sex. It was the same cycle and it always ended with make up sex. Hot and intense. Terry was intense. The last thing she needed was a lower body realignment so she pushed his head away. 

“I have to get up early in the morning.” 

“Okay?” 

He pushed the strap of her top down her arm and kissed his way from her neck to her shoulder. His beard scratched against her skin and she shivered, gripping her pen tight in her fist. 

“Terry,’ Blaire whimpered. 

“Mmmhm?” 

“You don’t have condoms.” 

“How do you know what I got?” 

Blaire rolled her eyes. “I was always the one that bought them. I know you don’t.” 

Blaire’s body didn’t do well with birth control, Terry still wanted more kids, so when they were intimate he wore condoms. It made sense. As a married couple, it was their only option for birth control, no matter how much he hated it. He pouted every time he had to remove it and throw it away, but he never wanted to put her health at risk. He’d suffer so she didn’t have too. 

“Just once?” He asked. “I want to reacquaint myself with the way you feel. I’ll pull out.” 

Blaire turned her head to hide the smile on her face. That’s how they ended up pregnant with Noah. He didn’t know what it meant to pull out. 

“The last time you said that I ended up pregnant.” 

“Yeah, the back of my truck.” He smiled. “I married you the following morning.” 

“My Dad still wants to fight you for springing that on him.” 

“Your Dad sees me every day.” He replied, scratching his chin. “He gave me hell before I shipped out though.” 

Impulsive had been Terry’s middle name when they were younger. He made split decisions and acted on his impulses. His selfishness was a huge trigger in their relationship. She was glad when he came home from basic training that had been trained out of him. 

“He had dreams of walking each of us down the aisle.” 

“I still want to see that.” Terry admitted. “I’m always going to come home to you, Blaire. I know it doesn’t look like that but it’s the truth.” 

Blaire turned around and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Instead, he turned his head at the last minute and their lips touched instead. As always his scent drove her crazy. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to wear cologne. He just smelled good. It didn’t help that he was a good kisser, knowing just how to hold her to keep her there. Blaire pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his head. Her nails scratched into his scalp as he crawled into her lap. She pushed him away when his tongue licked at her lips, hoping to slip between them and into her mouth. She’d be putty in his hands if that happened. 

“Alright,’ she whispered, ‘I need to finish working.” 

Before that, she reached into her purse beside the bed and dropped the next month’s bills into his lap. He had been paying them in two places and with his lease breaking tomorrow he could focus on his main household. Blaire could have easily paid them, however, he had sent her the money for them monthly, refusing to give up that responsibility just because he wasn’t in the house. She wasn’t a single mother and he made sure she didn’t act like it. He picked up Noah from school three times a week, was here every weekend, fixing shit around the house whenever Blaire called her Dad to do it, maintained her car services, and just bought her new tires. Terry wasn’t going to let their arguments come between doing what he vowed to do. 

He paid most of the bills online and did so as she slowly started to finish and pack up her purse and work bag. When she rose up on her knees he realized what she was wearing. A gray lace night dress that had two long slits on the sides. Her thick thigh shook while she moved across the bed. The straps had fallen off her shoulders and the swell of her breast was the only thing keeping the top up. Her hair was in two braids with satin ribbons on the end to roll them up. He watched her over the top of his phone as she bent over to put her bags on the bench in front of the bed. 

Blaire was well aware of what she was doing. Crawling back to her side of the bed, she ignored his eyes and kicked back the blanket, ass in his face, before she crawled under the sheets. Terry passed her the black bonnet on his side of the bed and she slipped it on, turning out the light while he stared at his phone screen. He tossed the mail and his phone to the side, mimicking her by getting under the sheets. 

He didn’t have to reach for her. She rolled into his arms, her head on his chest and her arm thrown over his middle. He didn’t miss how tight she held him and the way her legs tangled up with his. 

“What time do you have to be on site?” 

“I’ll be here to help get Noah ready.” 

“Okay,’ she replied. “Will you be there for picture day? He’s been wanting to spend all his time with you.” Blaire was far from jealous, however, he could hear it in her voice. 

Noah needed his father and she was happy they had such a good relationship. Terry was a bit more structured than she was and had a stricter hold on the seven year old, but he loved his son and made sure he had everything he needed and wanted. 

“He’s growing up, dushi.” 

“He’s my baby.” 

“He’s not a baby though.” 

Blaire lifted her head. “You could have let him sleep in here tonight.” 

Terry rolled on his side, Blaire on hers beside him. He rested his hand on her hip, his fingers snaking beneath her dressed, and moved closer to her. 

“I was hoping to defile this bed tonight. I want to turn you every which way but loose.” He admitted. He licked his lips, and dipped his head to slant his lips over hers. “But you won’t let me.” 

His body covered hers, resting between her open thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs went around his waist. Heavy, he rested some of his body weight on her, smiling as she curled her body into his. 

“Just let me push your panties to the side,’ he crooned in her ears. “I’ll slide right in.” 

Nasty didn’t encompass the things he was whispering in her ear. Filth fell from his mouth like a sonnet. 

“You better pull out,’ she warned. 

He in fact, did not, but only because she begged him not too. 

Aaron was an early riser. Usually up by four-thirty to get a workout in and stop and get breakfast–but today, he wasn’t rushing. He laid there a bit longer, feeling Brennan curled up against him. Her arm was draped across his chest. He lifted his hand to rub her arm and wrist, then brought her hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin along the back of it.

“Mmm.” Brennan stirred, turning her head, eyes still heavy with sleep. She met his ocean-blue eyes, squinting to look at the digital clock on his side of the bed. “What time is it?”

Aaron grinned, his lips still close to her skin. “Just a little after five-thirty,” he answered low.“You wanna sleep a little longer?”

Brennan pushed herself up on one elbow. “As nice as that sounds, I gotta get up soon. But I ain’t mad for a few more minutes with you.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer with one arm wrapped tight around her waist. “Aight, a few more minutes it is.”

They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence, the first sign of light spilling through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the darkroom. Aaron watched as she relaxed. He loved the way she looked first thing in the morning—eyes half-closed, her black silk bonnet sliding off her head, his shirt hanging loose off her shoulder cause it was way too big and a small, content smile spread across her face. 

“You make it hard to get outta bed,” she mumbled, her voice still dripping with sleep as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. His hand that had been on her back shifted to rub her shoulder gently.

“Mhm, that was the plan,” he teased, his lips finding her cheek, then her nose, her chin, before landing softly on her mouth. The hand that had been holding hers slid under the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the warm skin of her back.

She let out a soft moan, her hand lightly patting his chest before gently pushing him back. “We gotta get up,” she said, a little firmer now, turning her head when he leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t wanna be late.”

It was Open house, and of course, just her luck, it was also picture day. Brennan-being the assistant director had a lot on her plate. She didn’t mind picture days—except for dealing with the parents, especially the dads who seemed to think they had a shot with her. Please, she thought. She needed to get her mind right, though. With a few more lazy kisses, she finally pulled herself out of his arms and headed for the shared bathroom.

“What you wearin’?” Aaron called out as he stretched, getting up from the bed. He headed to the closet on the left side of the fireplace in their room, the light flicking on automatically as his hand reached up to grab a couple shirts from the rack.

“We’re not matching.”

“We’re not matching?” he mocked, holding up two shirts and eyeing them with a smirk. “Woman, what are you wearin’?” He tossed the shirts on the bed with a dramatic flourish before walking around to the bathroom door. Through the mirror, he saw her rinsing her face, steam from the shower already starting to fog up the glass. Her movements were relaxed, like she was in her own little world for a moment. “You lettin’ me drive you today?" Aaron asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Brennan didn’t usually let him drive—she liked driving herself, not because she had to, but because she didn’t want anyone at work all up in her relationship with Aaron, even though they all knew. It was just easier for her to handle her own car and with their schedules always mismatched—him being the history teacher for grades fourth to eight and the Athletics Director—Brennan usually trailed behind him in the mornings.. His after-school football practices ran late, and she liked to be home before five.

She looked up at him through the mirror, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “You know I’m more than capable of getting myself to work.”

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "I know, but we both know you'll be in a better mood if I take you" 

“Would that make you happy?” Brennan asked, her eyes focused on the mirror as she watched his silhouette shift behind her. Aaron didn’t answer right away, just stood there, a quiet presence in the space between them. His hands come to rest on her waist, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he turned her around to face him. 

“What would make me happy…” he began, his voice steady but filled with an underlying heat, “is getting to treat you like my wife and not a girlfriend.”  His lips met hers in a kiss, soft at first, but deepening as he pulled her closer. Brennan melted into him, the familiar taste and warmth of him never failing to make her heart race. The kiss was full of everything they’d never quite said aloud—everything that had been held back for too long.

They’d been through so many phases of their lives together, on and off for years. But despite all of it, Aaron had never stopped wanting Brennan. She’d always been the one he’d come back to, but her stubbornness, her refusal to let herself fall into something too real, always held her back. 

Brennan pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest as she studied his shirtless form. “I thought we liked the privacy thing.” Her voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in the words too. She wasn’t ready to let everything out in the open, especially not when it came to them. They had always been private—their relationship was never for the world to see. But Aaron wasn’t the type to sit in the shadows anymore. He wanted more and he wanted it with her.

Brennan’s gaze flicked over him, and she realized—when had he taken his shirt off? She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged with the tension. “How long has it been?” he asked, his voice low but carrying that same tone that always sent a shiver down her spine.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are we starting from when we broke up back in school, or…?” 

Brennan hadn’t forgotten their history. Their relationship had always been complicated in the beginning.. They’d grown up together, practically next-door neighbors, but things got messy once they hit college. The jealousy, the fights, the breakups.Brennan was too stubborn to admit she gets jealous and Aaron not knowing how to soothe her insecurities. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the past, but the weight of it was still there. It always would be.

“Does it even matter?”  Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. His hands moved to sit her on the bathroom sink, moving to stand between her legs. He kissed her forehead gently.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long has it really been?” He didn’t just mean the breakups or the time they’d spent apart. He was asking about them. About this.

Brennan sighed, pulling away just enough to glance up at him-even sitting on high counters, he towered over her.. "Realistically?" she said, her voice quiet but sure. "Since we were 14." 

Aaron’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against her jawline as he studied her. “So, we’ve been doing this for how many years now?”

“Too many,” she muttered under her breath, but her lips quirked up in a small smile. It had been too many years of this—on-again, off-again, never fully giving in to the love they both wanted but couldn’t quite reach. But the truth was, they’d always been connected, always coming back to each other, even when they tried to fight it.

Aaron didn’t let her dwell too long on it. His lips found hers again, soft and slow, but this time with something else—something deeper, like he was grounding her to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Brennan,” he whispered against her lips, his hands tracing her back, pulling her in as if he could swallow her whole. “I married you for a reason.” She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. She sighed, her forehead resting against his as she closed her eyes. 

“I know,” she murmured. She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. She couldn’t help it—her fear, her uncertainty about fully letting go of all the walls she’d built over the years. But maybe it was time to stop fighting. Maybe it was time to let him love her the way she’d always wanted. He was all she wanted.

He grinned, that familiar spark in his eyes. "I’m a patient man, Bre.” 

She leaned back, her hands resting at his sides as she reached for the clippers. “So am I trimming that goatee or no?” she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Aaron chuckled, watching her with an almost lazy smile. “Yeah”

Brennan shakes her head, clippers in hand as she reaches left hand up to hold his jaw. She gently moves the sharp blades along the edges. The tiny hairs falling on his bronzed skin as she focused on nor nicking the skin. She loved doing this for him, something so intimate about grooming his beard calmed her racing nerves. His hands rested on her thick thighs, massaging the smooth flesh between his thick fingers. 

"So, what you wearin' today?" He asked, like it was a question he already knew the answer to but still couldn’t help asking.

Brennan glanced up at him, rolling her eyes but not hiding the smile tugging at her lips. "You already know I’m not matching with you," she replied, the words coming out light and playful, but there was something about the way she said it that made Aaron chuckle. She always acted like she didn’t want to match with him, but deep down, he knew she loved it. She just didn’t like to admit it.

Aaron shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile as he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you say that, but you’re gonna be real mad when I walk out with some fly outfit, and I see you side-eyeing me 'cause you wish you thought of it first."

She shot him a look while finishing the other side of his beard. "Nah, that’s you, Aaron. You stay thinkin’ you look fly. I’m just tryna get outta here without having to deal with any of your antics"

Her words made him laugh, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. "you know I only got eyes for you."

Brennan wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or laugh at how smooth he was. The way he said it made it sound so natural—like there was no one else in the world who mattered but her. And while that was sweet, it also made her feel exposed, like maybe she had let him in too much. She quickly shifted her focus, trying to shake off the warmth that spread through her chest.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she muttered, already reaching for her phone to check the time.

Aaron wasn’t having it. "You sure?" He took a step back, but not without lingering for a second longer, his eyes tracing the outline of her. "You wanna wear something  for me, though? Or you just gonna show up to work lookin' like you rolled outta bed?"

She kissed her teeth–her eyes meeting his after placing his clippers on his side of the double vanity sink. "I do roll outta bed. You’ve seen me."

He snorted at that. “Yeah, but you roll outta bed lookin’ like you belong on the cover of dumpster weekly or somethin’.”

Brennan gave him an exaggerated side-eye. "Aaron."

“I’m playing, nèchi.” He chuckles while leaning in closer, his hands resting on her hips as he kissed her forehead lightly. “You’ve got this effortless way about you. I love it.” His voice softened, the playful teasing replaced by something that sounded almost like admiration. “But seriously, you gonna tell me what you wearin’ today or what?”

Brennan rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. She shook her head like she was annoyed but clearly wasn’t. "You gonna stop actin' like you  my stylist?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I might have to take that job on, since I’m the only one who seems to care about what you put on."

Brennan groaned and finally gave in. “Blaire and I went shopping Saturday and I got this brown bodysuit and jacket from H&M.” She dusts the cut hairs from around his mouth. “Gonna pair it with some jeans and ankle boots..

Aaron flashed her a grin, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “bo ta mustra bon sin importá kiko bo bisti.” He ran his fingers through the short coils of his fro. “But, I wanna stop hiding, nèchi” ”

Brennan looked at him, and for a brief moment, all the walls she’d built up in her mind seemed to fade. She let out a breath and nodded, her voice quieter now. “Okay.” 

Aaron smiled, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her closer. "You're still gonna let me drive you today?" His breath blew in her face while his nose rubbed against hers. 

Brennan rolled her eyes again, but her smile betrayed her. “I don’t need the whole school talkin’ about us.”

“Laga nan papia.”

Blaire was up at four. She grabbed her robe and yawned while walking down the hallway. She didn’t notice Terry’s side of the bed was empty. She was so used to getting up and doing things herself, that when she saw Terry in the kitchen pouring coffee into a cup, she jumped. His tall looming figure was missed, but it was odd seeing him back in her kitchen…..their kitchen. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He greeted, a smile on his face. 

Terry passed her the mug before pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she noticed he was dressed. A white shirt, dirty looking dickies, steel toe boots, he was going to work. 

“Goodmorning," she replied. “I thought you,’ 

“I am. I’m going to give them the run down and help them prep to put up the frames so electrical can come in this week. I will be back here by six thirty when you wake him up.” 

“I’ll have breakfast when you get back.” 

“You don’t need to do that,’ he says, ‘I’m not expecting you to jump back into all that.” 

“I’m going to be cooking for Noah anyway and you will need to eat something.” 

“I mean,’ he says, tugging at the tie to her robe, ‘if you want to feed me you can lay down on the dining table.” 

Blaire’s face warmed at his words. She was far from shy but something about the way he spoke to her made her shy. She swatted his hand away and wondered if he brought all his things back yet.

“What are you taking to eat?” 

“I’ll stop and get something.” 

“What about dinner?” 

“Have I ever told you what to cook?” Terry shrugged. 

Blaire turned around and walked to the freezer, sifting through for something to cook later. She ended her days at three so she had plenty of time. Behind her, Terry pulled her away from the freezer and closed it. He pressed her against the counter next to the fridge and untied her robe. The kitchen was cold and she bit down on her lip as his rough hands rubbed up her thighs. He gathered the night dress around her waist with one hand while the other tugged at her panties. 

“What are you doing,’ she asks as he drops to his knees. “Terry!” 

He looked up at her while kissing the inside of her thigh. He drops it on his shoulder and she feels him shrug. Blaire’s other leg began to shake in anticipation. The light above the stove was the only light on as she cupped the back of her husband’s head. His lips worked over her sex slowly, her dampness spreading across his mouth. A warmth spread quickly in her lower belly as he held her up with his hand on the back of her knee. 

He hummed against her sex, smiling as he stroked her with his tongue. Blaire grabbed the counter and squeezed, her knuckles turning white. 

“Should have let me lay your ass on the table," he joked, only to grab her other leg and put it on his shoulders. 

He stood up and she let out a soft squeal, grabbing his head for balance. He didn’t want to risk walking like this with the lights out, so he used the island instead. Laying her down, Terry pushed her legs up towards her chest, then slid them open so they were almost touching the island. She tried to close her legs, not to feel so exposed, but he swatted her thigh. 

“Keep it open for me,’ he huffed. “Are you still hiding from me?” 

He knew her body inside and out, having seen it so much. Last night he did exactly what he said he would; push her panties to the side and slid in. They hadn’t even taken off their clothes. 

“I haven’t shaved,’ she admitted, eyes clenched shut as his thumb worked through her pussy, her slick collecting on the digit he swiped his tongue across. 

His mouth followed the same pattern, hot and wet and she whimpered softly. 

“I’m a grown ass man Blaire.” He turned his wrists and checked the time. “With an extra fifteen minutes to spare, keep them pretty thighs open.” 

Selfishly she missed her intimate life with Terry. He took care of her physically each time and she knew these next fifteen minutes would be the same. He loved all types of physical touch. The dick was heavy. None of the toys Blaire had compared to what was swinging between Terry’s legs and there had been many nights she called him just for dick. Of course he came. She did too, but that's besides the point. He was the only man that could scratch that itch. 

“Okay.” Her voice trembled. 

Her hands rubbed his head, the low cut hairs felt rough against her hands. Rubbing the back of his head, she sat up just enough to watch his tongue wiggle itself into her hole that was already leaking onto the island. For fifteen minutes, Terry penned his apology into her pussy with his tongue. 

He helped her off the counter afterwards and sent her to start getting ready for Open House. Blaire heard his truck leave the driveway and went back to the kitchen. She pulled out boneless chicken thighs to defrost because of course she was going to cook for him. She had plans to meet up with some of the work crew after school for dinner and she wanted Noah and Terry to have their own meal so schedules weren’t off. Plus, he’d have lunch for tomorrow and so would Noah who had taken to his bento box and wanted to use it all the time. 

Blaire had a ton of tasks today as the Open House was going to be hectic. It was an informal “first day” where students' photos would be taken, families could meet teachers, new families would be given tours, and it was going to be a day she probably didn’t get a chance to sit down. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to wear heels. They were her sneakers, the high heels clicking on the tile of the school was a stim for her. She was that person that walked down the hall jingling keys for no reason. 

After shopping with Brennan, she found a cream dress with red flowers on it. There was some lace around the top and it matched her nude pumps. She’d stretched her curls out and enjoyed the summer weather before fall set in. Blaire walked into the hall bathroom that Noah used. Wanting the day to go smoothly, she ran to his bath and went to wake him up. It was six in the morning and when she opened his door, he was already sitting up in his bed, an anxious look on his face. He jumped when she called his name and concern spread over Blaire’s face. 

“Hey Baby Bear,’ she greets softly as she walks to sit on his bed. 

The red and blue sheets were spiderman themed but lacked the character. Noah was always shifting his interest and it was easier to replace basic sheets than search for appropriate bedding in the style he wanted. 

“Goodmorning, Mommy.” He sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked. 

He crawled into her lap and she hugged him while pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Daddy has to work?” 

Blaire rubbed his back and nodded. “Yeah, he does.” 

“Is he coming to school for pictures?” 

“He said he would.”

Noah jumped off the bed after that. He went about his morning routine as usual, having stuck to it even after school was out the previous year. Terry had told her many times how scheduled he was when she let him spend the night with him. He was becoming more self-sufficient, at seven, and that was in part to her involving him in his own care. It also helped that Terry indirectly did the same. He wasn’t as quick to console him when something was wrong like Blaire. He learned all his problem solving skills from his father. He has the emotional development appropriate for his age, but sometimes there was a spark of emotional maturity. 

Noah rambled on about getting Terry a Spider-Man shirt for the pictures and Blaire had to remind him these were for the yearbook, the fun pictures would come later. Over his breakfast he gushed about how Terry did this and that. It made Blaire feel a tinge of sadness knowing that energy hadn’t been in the house. 

“Can Daddy live here,’ he asked suddenly and Blaire almost dropped her coffee cup. 

“Yeah,’ she replied after a beat. His big hazel eyes were just like his Father’s. “Yeah. He can live here.” 

The front door opened and heavy boots filled her ears. She had a plate by the stove ready, knowing he was hungry, despite what he said earlier. Noah slid from his stool and ran over, his arms circling his Dad’s legs. Blaire was glad she had him in pajamas until right before leaving. He’d have black gravel soot and dust all over his clothes right now. 

“Mommy says you can live here!” 

Blaire turned her back quickly to the duo, option to make herself an ice coffee. 

“She did?” He says, dropping him back at the island to finish eating. “Where am I going to sleep?” 

Terry stared at his wife’s back as he walked over to where she was. He kissed the top of her head and his hand discreetly patting her backside. The dress doing little to hide her curves. 

“Mommy has a big bed!” Noah pressed his mother wit a question. “Can Daddy sleep in your bed Mommy?” 

Terry stood by the sink, shoulder to shoulder with Blaire and a smirk on his face. She moved to the sink, then stopped. 

“Yeah,’ Terry added, finally pulling his wife’s attention to his eyes. The double meaning to his words were not lost off Blaire and she licked her lips. His eyes tracked her tongue and his own darted over his full lips. 

“Can Daddy sleep in your bed?” 

"I'm Brennan Anderson, the Assistant Director here at Melanin Preparatory Academy," Brennan greeted warmly as she stood up from her desk.

Her tone was smooth, confident, though there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled at the family entering the room.A small family stepped inside, looking a bit nervous, especially the parents. The kids seemed more interested in the surroundings, fidgeting with their clothes or glancing around the office, but the parents were the ones who seemed to be feeling the weight of the moment.

"You must be the Creed family?" Brennan asked, her voice laced with familiarity, like she’d been through this a hundred times before.

The mother nodded, giving Brennan a polite but anxious smile, while the father stood slightly behind her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room. “I’m Adonis and this is my wife T’nya.” 

The kids—two siblings, a girl and a boy—hung back a little, still unsure of what to expect. The girl was clutching her backpack, looking around with wide eyes, while the boy stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to seem cool but clearly uncomfortable. “These are our kids. Amira and Kairo.”

“Hi guys.” Brennan smiles, gesturing to the snack bar by the door. “If it’s okay, you guys can help yourselves to some snacks.” 

Adonis nods. “Just one. We’re meeting grandma for lunch later.” 

“Before we begin.” Brennan redirects the parents attention while gesturing for them to sit down. “Melanin Prep is an African American school that caters to black youth from the ages of six weeks to fourteen.” 

“That was mentioned in the pamphlet.” Adonis glances back at his two kids giggling and snacking on bags of chips. “It was a no-brainer to apply.” He looks back at Brennan, eyes flickering from her face to the ring on her hand. “I’m just not understanding why we were on a waitlist for so long.”

Brennan nods, noticing the once over he was giving her. Bold–considering his wife was next to him. “Like I mentioned, Melanin Prep caters six weeks to the age of fourteen, but that is from start to finish. Amira will be going to fourth grade, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So that means she will be enrolled until eight grade. The same goes for Kairo who is starting first grade. He will be with us until he ages out at fourteen when it's time for him to start highschool.” Brennan explains. “That explains why you were on the waitlist for so long. Our eighth graders have transitioned to highschool and some spaces opened due to a few withdrawals.”

"We understand.” Tnya’s voice a little more guarded than Brennan had expected. "This is... this is our first time going through all this, so we just wanna make sure we understand everything."

Brennan nodded, sensing the nerves in the air. Parents always had a tendency to overthink things, especially when it came to enrolling their kids at a new school. She didn’t mind though; it came with the territory.

"No problem," she said smoothly, reaching toward the stack of files on her desk. The papers were neatly organized with everything from school handbooks to enrollment forms, attendance policies, and the school's code of conduct. She picked up the first file and opened it up with a small rustle, flipping through to the important sections.

"We’ll be going over everything you need to know," she continued, making sure to keep her tone reassuring. "The curriculum, the school’s values, and all the expectations we hold here at Melanin Prep. I know it can be a lot to take in, but I’ll be here to help guide you through it."

T’nya nodded again, though her nervousness hadn't quite eased. "I just want to make sure this is the right place for them. I mean, we’ve heard a lot of good things, but—"

"I get it," Brennan said, cutting her off gently but firmly. She gave a smile that was both warm and confident. "It’s a big step. And trust me, you’ll find that here at Melanin, we focus on not just academics, but on nurturing your kids as individuals. Our environment is designed to help them grow both inside and outside the classroom."

Adonis seemed to relax a bit, but still maintained that guarded stance. "I just want to make sure they’ll be challenged," he said, his voice lower, but not without a hint of concern. "This is a new environment for them. Will they be prepared for the next level?"

Brennan smiled, already knowing what he needed to hear. "Melanin Prep has a strong academic track record. Our curriculum is designed to push students to reach their full potential. Whether they’re excelling in the classroom, or thriving in extracurriculars, we make sure there’s a healthy balance."

“Their last school was rough, so we want to make sure the kids have a chance.”

"Your children will have the opportunity to grow at their own pace, but also be challenged to achieve things they might not think they could. That's what we’re all about here—supporting them as individuals."

They seemed to take in the words,  T’nya’s shoulders visibly relaxing. "That sounds good," she said, giving a softer smile. "I just want them to have a place where they feel like they belong."

Brennan’s smile softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. "That’s one of the most important things we do here. We focus on building community and fostering a sense of belonging, because we know that when kids feel at home, they excel."

The father gave a small nod, as though his concern had been eased. He looked at Brennan for a long moment, his arms now uncrossed, a hint of respect in his gaze. "Well, that sounds exactly like what we’ve been looking for."

Brennan was about to continue with the paperwork when she noticed the kids had started to move toward the desks, exploring the pens and other office supplies, quietly and with more curiosity now. She decided to shift the tone slightly, hoping to bring the focus back to the family as a whole. 

“Before we start. I will need a verbal answer and a written signature on if you guys will be enrolling your children here.” She pulls out a typed document, placing it in front of them.”

Adonis frowns, feeling like he was signing his kids' life away. “What for?” T'nya hits his arm with a nigga really look on her face. 

“What T’nya? She got us signing shit. I thought we were doing orientation.” 

“Mind your language in my office.” Brennan glances at him. “As I mention before our waitlist is extensive. Once your in there is no withdrawing and going to another school and then trying to come back. We have plenty of parents wanting to enroll their kids here.”

“Even if I supply a hefty donation?” Adonis looks at her.

“Adonis!”

Brennan shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Mr. Creed. We are Title 1 Division school, we get plenty of donations from the community and our youth’s parents. We do not take kindly to bribes. That is the quickest way to disqualify your children.” She looks at him. 

Then directs her full attention to T’nya “I understand the reservations, but you wouldn’t have wasted my time if you weren’t going to enroll them here.”

Brennan had her fair share of parents that thought they could pay their way in. She and Blaire had made sure when this school was opened they would keep their morals and integrity.  Taking bribes would feel like a cop out and a insult to everything they worked so hard to build. 

“I’m sorry.” T’nya apologizes. “We would love to enroll our kids here.” She forces the pen in his hand. While they signed the necessary paperwork, she glances at the kids move to the large fish tank she had, several beta fish swimming around eating the food she had put in there this morning. 

“My apologies, Ms. Anderson.” Adonis places a hand over his heart while staring her down. “I just want my kids to have the best opportunities.”

“I want nothing but the best for your children as well.” She places the document in a red scanner connected to her Mac computer. The papers scanning to the harddrive as she gathered several other documents for them to fill out. "Let’s go over some of the policies and guidelines while we wait for the paperwork to be processed," she suggested,. "But first, I’d love to hear a little more about your kids—what are they interested in? What are their strengths? I want to make sure we place them with the right teacher, and encourage extracurriculars.

The parents exchanged a quick glance, the initial nerves now giving way to pride. The father spoke first, his voice filled with a little more warmth than before. "Well, my daughter is really into music—she plays piano and sings. And my son," he looked toward the boy, who was now slouched comfortably in a chair, "he’s all about sports. Football, mostly."

Brennan’s eyes brightened as she jotted down a quick note. "That’s fantastic. We have some great programs here for both. I think they’ll fit right in."

She could tell that they were starting to feel more comfortable now, the worry beginning to lift as they got a better sense of the school’s atmosphere. 

As she went on to explain more about the school’s offerings, from advanced music classes to the athletic programs, Brennan felt the shift from tension to trust—a shift she had seen countless times before. It was moments like these that reminded her why she did what she did. Helping these families navigate this new chapter for their kids, making sure they had everything they needed to succeed—it was what made the job worth it. 

"Alright," Brennan said as she closed the last file, "that covers the basics. You’ve got the information you need, and I’ll make sure the rest of the paperwork gets processed quickly. How about a tour for your kids? They can see the classrooms and get a feel for the school before they start school tomorrow?."

The parents exchanged another glance, then looked back at her, the tension from before completely gone now. "That sounds perfect," the mother said, smiling now. "Thank you, Ms. Anderson."

Brennan stood up, offering them her hand. "It’s my pleasure. I’ll make sure we get them set up with everything they need. Welcome to Melanin Preparatory Academy."

a/n: I want to note that terry and blaire's relationship is very much man of the house/submissive wife type shit, BUT done in a more respectful way. as we explore their relationship it will become more clear but I just wanted to share that ahead of things to come. I just wanted a different type of dom/sub dynamic that was rooted in a nonsexual connection.

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I really liked the brennan x witch reader idea, can you also write with xaden? Where he saves the reader?

warning: blood, injuries, knifes, fun stuff.

Save you

They didn’t get mixed up in situations that didn’t involve them. Especially not when they were flying back from the Riorson house. Not after unloading the shipment. But it was the pained screeching that had Xaden glancing at Garrick who had simply nodded before reaching for his daggers.

The forest was thick and lushes down below, cutting out the view of what was happening. No chance of knowing what was truly waiting down there. Not worth it Sgaeyl muttered but Xaden was already jumping off her. Using the covers of the trees as he inched closer. The place had a strange form of pulsing around it. Vibrating. A glow eliminated the gaps between the branches. And then that same pained cry split the silence and Xaden felt his pace picking up. “Xaden”, Garrick called out, the last thing they needed was to break their cover. But the sound gutted him. He could feel the agony.

And then the clearance came into view. Garrick cursed from behind. This was the last thing on his mind. Not that he knew much of what he was seeing. A white circle. A humming of energy. A red thin thread of blood being dragged from the cuts made deep in your hands. Don’t you dare but Sgaeyl doesn’t get to finish before Xaden is running into an open field. His shadows trying to seep through the glow. Hitting against it with their full force.

That’s when your eyes meet his too. Tired. Xaden is not even sure how you’re standing. His hands come in touch with the glowing light but it shoves him away. Burning his skin. He hisses. “We need to break this, get her out of here”, Xaden shouts , looking over his shoulder. “How do you imagine we do that?”, Garrick huffs rounding the sacrifice stones.

But then Xaden catches your eyes, glancing at his dagger. He quickly pulls it out lifting it higher. Your eyes stay on it before dropping down to your hands. His gut drops for yet another time tonight. But he’s clenching his jaw, tightening, stepping back… “Xaden, what are you…”, Garrick barely lifts his hand before the blade flies through the air. Cutting through the bubble and sinking deep into your flesh. The scream that slips through your lips makes Xaden nearly turn around to vomit. But he’s stumbling forward, knees hitting the stone, as he presses his palm deeper into your flesh.

“I’m sorry”, he mutters, watching as your body twitches. Glassy eyes watching him. “Don’t pull it out”, Garrick cuts in, reaching out to wrap a strap of his leather around the dagger. Securing it in place. The bleeding. You would probably bleed out… “Come on we need to go. Get her to Colonel”, Garrick is already glancing at the sky. Xaden feels fuzzy. He doesn’t usually care. He’s seen worse shit. Worse torture. But there is something about you. The way your ashy skin and that drained gaze cut right through him. He scoops you up, mindful of your arm. Hissing at the feeling of your ice-cold skin pressing against his warmth. He catches you glancing at him. Lips trembling in anticipation of something that might slip past him. But then your body sags, head lulling back and a part of him ignites.

You’re not sure what parts of your mind were made up and what was actually real. There are muffled voices. Many. Then just a couple. Then just one. The place your body is placed in feels warm. Had they already brought you out for burning? That thought alone makes your body seize and whoever is there on the other side places a soft cold towel on your head. A hand runs up and down your upper arm. Fingers brushing away the hair from your face. A low shushing. You want to open your eyes. Want to see but the eyelids are too heavy. And darkness claims your body once more.

Xaden runs a hand over a slight stubble that he had let on. He’s been flying back and forth every day. “You can’t brood her into waking up”, Brennon’s voice fills the room, making Xaden snap his head to the side. They had found even more of your kind. Witches. Hunted and used. They had missed this. Missed that someone was using innocent people. “None of this is your fault”, Brennon says, even when both of their eyes fall to the bandaged hand, “You saved her with that and the wound will not scar. I will make sure of that”. He clasps Xaden’s shoulders right as a deep inhale fills the room. Xaden leaps out of his chair.

Your head falls back to the pillow but your eyes stay open, scanning the place. “Hey”, he breathes barely audibly, afraid to scare you even more. Your gaze only softens at the sight of him, your whole body easing. “You’re safe, no one will harm you here”, he continues, “I’m sorry for the knife”. But you shake your head. Silence falls.

“Yn”, you mutter, not dropping the gaze. It takes a moment for Xaden to realize that you have rasped out your name before he presses his palm to his chest, “Xaden”. You nod. He stares. He just stands there and stares because even now. Even all pale and weak you strike him as the most beautiful female he had ever seen. He quickly clears his throat, “I should go, let you rest. There will be people who will…”, “Stay”, you mutter back. A weak hand reaches out to him and his hand reaches back on its own. “If you can… stay”, you breathe out and Xaden finds himself nodding as he reaches for the chair, pulling it closer and taking your much smaller palm into his.

[galactickle]

Jealousy

James Maguire x reader

Summary: reader is jealous of james and katya, and becomes really good friends with david donnelly, but james thinks david and the reader are something more.

Masterlist

“Who is this?” Katya asks, her accent thick.

“Oh, that's just James,” Erin replies.

“You are handsome,” Katya says, “and also sexy.”

Everyone in the room was shocked by this revelation.

“Is her English not great?” Michelle asks.

Katya looks James up and down before getting up and kissing him.

The girls continued to make comments as you all watched them kiss, but you heard nothing they said. You had been secretly crushing on James for a little while, unbeknownst to your best friends, and the sight of him kissing the Ukrainian had you seeing red.

~~~

You were at Brennan's eating lunch with the gang. The girls were all fighting about something or other while you picked at your food silently, when Jenny showed up with her Ukrainian lad.

“Listen, I have a feeling Artem and a few of the others are a bit homesick,” Jenny explained, “It'd be nice for them to spend some time together. So I’m having a soiree at my place tonight. It's going to be great!”

Just then, Erin’s longtime crush and a good friend of yours, David, walks in. You were closer to David than the other girls, as your parents were friends with his.

He looks around the restaurant until he sees Jenny. “Hey, do you have the playlist for tonight then?” he shoots your group a smile and a nod.

Jenny hands him a piece of paper, “I'll need the sound system set up by 7.”

“Is your band playing at this thing?”

“Oh no, I just do a bit of DJing on the side.” he laughs and heads to order some food.

“On second thought, I think this party might be good for Katya,” Erin says to Jenny.

Just then you look up to see James and Katya making out right in the middle of the restaurant. You look down at your food in disgust, then excuse yourself to go to the washroom.

~~~

At the party, the first thing you saw when you walked in was David at his DJ stand, you waved hello to him before going to find your friends.

You mingled at the party a bit before you got tired of Erin freaking out about Katya taking James’ virginity. You found yourself hanging out with David, talking and drinking beer. David was cool and you enjoyed talking to him, it got your mind off of James for a bit… until you all heard a commotion upstairs, you followed David and the others to the stairwell, only catching the end of the argument.

“--How dare you? I am poor Ukrainian, so I must be prostitute!” Katya yells. You raise your eyebrows in shock.

Erin comes to address the crowd forming on the stairs, “Hear me out, first she comes on to James here. What would possess her?” you roll your eyes, “Financial gain, that's what!”

“He attractive boy, Erin.” Katya reasons.

“He's English, Katya.” Erin replies offhandedly.

“I have no problem with this.”

“You should,” Michelle butts in.

Erin continues yelling about the condoms in Katya's bag, and the money the Ukrainians have been giving her all evening.

“How the hell do you explain that?” Erin asks Katya in regards to the money.

“I organize, how you say it, whip round. We like to buy Jenny present to thank her for nice party.” Katya explains in her normal, but angry voice.

“Ohhh, you guys!!”Jenny replies sweetly.

Erin is left speechless, as is everyone else.

“So not only you insult me, but you've also spoiled Jenny’s surprise!” Katya adds.

“I think you should leave,” Jenny states. you sink back behind David in the crowd, not wanting to associate or even be seen by your friends. You could feel their eyes on you though, as they passed by in shame.

“You can still hang with me for the rest of the night,” David offered, you smiled slightly at him and nodded.

You spent the next little while drinking and talking, but David could tell you were a little off.

“So what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, taking a swig of your beer.

“You seem… distracted, sad even.”

“Nah, it's nothing,” you try to brush it off.

“Obviously it's not, so spill.”

“I… I.. have a wee bit of a crush on James…” you say with a pained look on your face.

David nods and hums in agreement. “So the whole Katya thing…?” he trails off.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.. that sucks, well, if it's any sentiment, he's gotta be into you too, because like every guy in Derry is into you,” He nudges you shoulder.

You laugh, “Yeah, OK.”

“It’s true!!” David chuckles.

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” you look around at the dwindling party, “Well… I should probably get going,” sigh, getting up from your spot on the floor.

“Want me to walk you home?” David offers, getting up as well.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks,” you smile at him as he sticks out his elbow for you to take.

The walk home is full of drunken giggles and nonsense.

When you reached your house, you turned to David to say thank you again, and, unbeknownst to you, James was looking out his window watching. He had been waiting to make sure you got home alright, after he realized you hadn't followed the group out of the party.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at David.

“No problem,” he replied, “we should hang out more.”

“I agree,” you laughed. You leant up on your tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Goodnight, David.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked into your house, David yelling ‘goodnight’ after you.

~~~

The next couple weeks, James didn't talk to you, which you didn't mind because you had been ignoring him before anyways. Plus now you were in a good mood due to your blooming friendship with David. It’s not that you had romantic feelings for him, but you did really like him, although you would never do something to hurt Erin.

The whole friend group watched in confusion as you and David became closer friends. After a couple weeks of silence James finally blew up.

“Why are you hanging out with him?” You were at Michelle’s house, you and James were alone in the kitchen getting drinks.

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“David, why do you keep hanging out with him?” James repeated.

“I don't know, he's nice and fun to be around..”

“So are we!” James countered.

“Fine. Why did you let Katya kiss you?”

“I--I..”

The girls had heard the commotion and came into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Erin asked.

No one said anything for a second..

“I saw Y/N kiss David Donnelley!” James exclaims. You gape at him.

“What?” The girls gasp.

“No! I didn't! I kissed him on the cheek-- which is a totally different thing! I was just saying thank you for walking me home!”

“How could you Y/N?” Orla asks, cradling Erin's head.

You shake your head, then turn and leave. James follows you outside, “So what? You're just gonna leave?”

“Yeah! Well, it doesn't feel like I’m welcomed there anymore!” you yell back, exasperated.

“Y/N!” you could hear a change in tone in James’ voice, was that desperation? “Wait! I've been a dick, I’m so sorry!”

You slowly turn towards him, “Yeah, you have been.”

“I’m sorry I just.. didn't like seeing you with him,” James reveals.

“How do you think I felt about Katya?” you say quietly.

James looks at you, confused, for a moment, “Wait-- you mean?” you nod in a response, smiling crookedly.

James runs forward, enveloping you in a hug, “I’m so sorry,” he whispers in your shoulder.

“Me too.” And your lips collide in the most beautiful kiss either of you have ever experienced

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: Boromir x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical violence

Word Count: 3.1k

Chapter Two

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // an unexpected catch masterlist

Boromir

The rains that come in the Night bring early morning mist and low clouds.

Upon his horse, Boromir observes the hazy horizon. The tall grass around his horse’s legs is dew-kissed and wet, darkening the horse’s coat until it appears black. The mist clings to his armor, creating a slick covering on the metal. When Boromir returns to Minas Tirith, the royal blacksmith will need to inspect it, cleaning it properly to avoid potential rust.

“Captain!” Brennan, one of the men that is accompanying Boromir trots forward, pulling up beside him. “The scout has not reported in.”

Boromir briefly glances at him before returning to scan the horizon. Even with the low clouds and mist, he can see enough.

Something dark stirs in these lands—awakening with malicious intent. It is palpable like the way butter sits salty and thick on the tongue when not evenly spread. It is heavy in the air and lungs, a vice around throats and hearts. It is a battering ram. It is everywhere.

Faramir is in Osgiliath.

The city conquered. Retaken. Conquered again. Mostly in sections, but it’s continuous. Unending. A brutal task that Boromir is only fighting because his father wants it so.

All who lived there are gone, moved to Minas Tirith. Boromir doesn’t know when it’ll be safe to return.

It might never be.

The orcs grow bold. A shadow is at their backs, spurring their forward momentum and bloodlust. As if they are sucking the darkness into themselves, they are relentless, fueling themselves on whatever drives them ever onward.

“What was the original report?” asks Boromir.

“Raids, sir,” answers Brennan. “Corsairs along the river. Mercenaries from the East. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” counters Boromir. “What other beings move along the Anduin?”

Brennan shakes his head. “Report didn’t say. Only that the Corsairs come and go. They advance and retreat in equal measure.”

“No pattern?”

“None that’s been revealed.”

Boromir nods, but there is no comfort. Acting on little information is a risk, and they are few in number.

“We will forge ahead,” replies Boromir. “Slowly. Keep to the trees. Avoid open ground.”

Boromir does not intend to engage. This is to gain information to relay back to Minas Tirith, to figure out a path forward.

The party is only ten in number on horseback. Boromir gathers the reins, and they depart, descending from the large hill they look out on to draw up next to the tree line. On the other side is the Anduin. It’s far enough that they cannot see it but close enough that Boromir swears he can hear the water.

They follow the tree line for several leagues. The day does not lighten. The skies remain grey and gloomy.

Boromir raises his fist, and the group halts.

He narrows his gaze, unsure of what he’s seeing.

“Do any of you see what I see, or do my eyes deceive me?”

“Looks like smoke,” replies Brennan.

“Or dark clouds,” adds Alden, scratching at his beard.

Boromir frowns. “Is there anything in that direction.”

“Likely a settlement,” answers Brennan. “Or a small village. Might not be on any maps expect local ones.”

Turning toward his men, Boromir keeps his tone even. “We will approach from the forest. Move slowly. Stay alert.”

Turning their steeds toward the forest, they enter one by one, trudging slowly through the undergrowth. The canopy swallows them up like a leviathan. Around them are large trees, and Boromir feels small—as if everything is tight and cramped.

To move through the trees, the group has to split, forming two lines.

At the edge of the tree line, Boromir brings everyone to a halt.

There is a town. A small settlement of a couple dozen buildings. To the left is the Anduin. The dock there is empty expect for a few fishing boats.

Some of the buildings still smolder. The rest are just blackened carcasses.

Boromir sees no bodies. Orcs would leave plenty behind. They rarely—if ever—take prisoners. Corsairs certainly kill but they tend to withhold their blades for profit. Living souls mean income. They can exchange hostages for coin, or take them to faraway places to sell them. Everything is a profit for them.

But there may still be bodies. Boromir just can’t see them.

It is he that takes the first step out of the trees. The others follow behind at the same pace, their hands on their weapons as they enter the settlement.

It is incredibly quiet. Hardly any noise. No birds or buzzing of insects. Only the occasional crackle of singed wood falling in on itself.

Moving like ghosts amongst a graveyard, they find themselves at the center of it all, and still, there are no bodies. Only blackened buildings.

“Captain,” murmurs Brennan. “Look.”

Boromir follows Brennan’s outstretched arm in the direction he indicates. There he finds a partially collapsed building. The door is open, hanging on its hinges, ready to fall off at the slightest gust of wind. Draped across the threshold is a pale arm, hand pressed into the earth as if the person tried to claw their way to freedom.

As a group, they approach, but it is Boromir who dismounts first. Brennan and Alden follow his lead while the others remain where they are. Cautiously, they examine the door and pale arm. Boromir leans in, only to find more the arm and who it is connected to.

It’s a woman.

Brennan kneels beside her, fingers pressed to the inside of her wrist before checking her neck.

Without speaking, Brennan turns in Boromir’s direction and shakes his head.

She’s gone. There is nothing that can be done.

Boromir nods his head, indicating that they should enter. He takes the lead, Brennan at his heels as Alden lingers back a bit near the door. They step around overturned furniture and over fallen beams.

“Touch nothing,” whispers Boromir.

It’s a small space, and reveals little. Bending at the knees, Boromir leans in to examine scorch marks along the floor that look like claw marks.

Behind him—distantly—there is a soft whoosh of air like a change in the wind.

A brief shout—quickly cut off.

Brennan and Alden draw their blades and charge toward the door.

“Wait!” says Boromir but they’re gone.

More shouting. The ringing of metal striking metal.

He sidesteps a beam and comes up short.

“Come out! We know you’re in there!”

Beyond the door are Corsairs. Not a handful. No. There are at least five of them to every one of Boromir’s men. But there aren’t many of his men left.

Most are down.

Boromir can only see about five of them on the ground in front of the house. He doesn’t see the others, but with how calm and unbothered the Corsairs are, they’re likely gone.

“Come out! Last chance. Won’t be lenient if we have to come in there.”

Muttering under his breath, Boromir exits, sword raised high, ready to swing.

The Corsair at the front of the group laughs. His black hair is thick and slightly tangled in a knot at the back of his head.

“Put your sword down. No use fighting.”

Boromir does not relent. He does not lower his weapon.

“A soldier of Gondor does not bow down to those poised to do evil.”

The Corsairs blinks, and then bursts out laughing again. He points, hand gesturing vaguely toward Boromir. “Armor is shiny. Fetch a pretty price.” He tilts his head to the side. “Bring it to me.”

Boromir is alone. Utterly alone.

Five Corsairs descend on him, and Boromir swings, hacking through two and ducking a third blow. This is easy. This is nothing. All the training is now natural, and Boromir is only an extension of his blade.

Until he isn’t.

Until there are far too many to fend off.

He lifts to swing again, but there is resistance in the swing. A pinch that becomes a sting and then bright, blinding pain.

Boromir glances down.

Impaled.

The Corsair holding the sword that sticks from his side grins wickedly before yanking it out.

Red comes with. Surprisingly dark.

The world spins. Boromir lands on his knees, and then all he sees above him is the grey sky.

“Take the armor. Then toss them all in the river.”

Reader

“I know. I know. Quit chiming. Giving me a headache.”

The bell does not cease. It continues to ring—loud and sharp in the small room.

That is its one job. It’s singular purpose. Your father designed it to be so.

The string that connects to the bell runs along a small tube in the ground which leads out to the fishing nets by the dock. Whenever the weight shifts past a certain amount, the bell will ring, indicating that it’s ready to be checked.

Depending on weight, the bell will give a soft chime or a loud one.

Right now, it’s loud. Angry.

And your father isn't here. He's been called away to serve in Gondor's navy. It's just you keeping it together.

When it was just the two of you, the amount of work didn’t seem so bad, but now that it’s just you, checking the nets consistently simply isn’t possible. It takes up too much time in your day, and hauling them up is a two-person job.

But with the bell ringing like it is, you’re going to have to check, even if you know it’ll take up far too much time.

Pushing your hair back and out of your face, you put on a fresh dress for the day. It’s simple. Meant to get dirty from garden work and wet from checking the nets. Grabbing your apron off the back of a chair, you tie it around your waist, exiting into the garden.

Opening the coop first to allow the chickens out, you then pop your head into the small barn.

“Hello, Daisy,” you coo, rubbing the cow’s side. She replies with a soft croon of contentment.

The two pigs snort in your direction but remain where they are. The sheep attempt to stick their heads through the wood slats to reach you.

“Behave,” you scold, pushing Tulip’s head back into the pen. “You’ll get stuck again and I’m not spending my day removing the boards to free you.”

Tulip baas a sharp reply.

Even in the barn you can still hear the bell from inside the house.

It’s misty out. A bit chilly.

The animals need space. They need to walk around and graze, but with the weather like it is, they might prefer to stay inside. Lightly chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to open the pens.

“Have at it,” you mutter, knowing you might regret this later when you try to round everyone up.

Following the stone path to the river, you gaze out across the landscape. There are dark clouds in the distance. At first, you think them storm clouds, but they appear far too dark for that.

Everything is odd now. There are whispers. Rumors of a spreading darkness.

But you are completely isolated. You are near no villages or settlements for a league or two at least. Whatever you have heard, it’s from passing travelers on the roads to said villages. When your father was called up, he didn’t know until he took a trip to town. They sent no one to fetch him, and the summons had come months ago.

“Strange,” you murmur, frowning at the dark spot in the sky.

Heading for the lever to raise the fishing nets, you sigh heavily, not wanting to do this at all. This is the part you hate the most. It takes an extreme amount of upper body strength, which is why it is a two-person endeavor.

Without your father to help you, you have to put your full weight behind each downward push.

Wrapping your fingers around the handle of the lever, you go up on your toes, and then allow your body to naturally fall downward, using your weight to crank it.

Everything moves. Turns. Creaks loudly.

You repeat the process until you’re sweating and the coolness of the air no longer kisses your skin with a chill.

Eventually the net begins to rise. Sticks and twigs and dead leaves appear. Not unusual, but there is typically movement in the water at this point. The fish don’t want to be dragged to the surface. They will flop about, the water around them churning with their wiggling bodies.

But there is nothing.

Not—no.

Not fish. Something…else.

Pausing, you step closer to the edge. Falling to your knees, you reach down into the water and push leaves and sticks out the way to get a better lock.

“Uinen’s tears!” you exclaim, jumping back.

It’s a man.

There is a man in your net.

Frantically, you reach out. Using the water’s natural buoyancy, you turn the man over. He is pale, and twisted in the twigs, hair a dark fan around him.

There are no fish. Just him.

With an urgency you didn't possess before, you go back to the lever, heaving yourself against it over and over again until your feel the wood biting into your skin. Once the net is high enough, you unclasp the lock, pushing forward, the net swinging toward you as it comes to hover over the dock.

You reengage the lock, and then the net settles, expanding outward to rest against the wood, opening wide to reveal everything inside.

The man tumbles out. Unresponsive.

Falling to your knees next to him, you push his wet hair of his face. Fingers pressing to his throat, you pray that you will find live beneath them.

There is nothing. Only silence. Not even a flutter.

As you reach up to remove twigs and leaves from his hair, there is a soft brush of breath against the inside of your wrist. Pausing, you bring your hand back, hovering your palm above his mouth.

Waiting.

Nothing.

And then—

It comes again. Soft, but there.

He is alive. This stranger is alive.

With both hands pressed to his chest, you shove down, over and over again. His body convulses, and you dart backward, turning him on his side and he purges brackish water from his lungs.

Coughing, the stranger groans, and you rub his back in an attempt to soothe him. He leans forward a bit, one hand pressed into the wet wood beneath him, cheek firmly squished against the dock.

He’s wearing nothing but plain pants and a tunic. He does not wear boots. Not even socks. From what you can tell, there is nothing that identifies him as belonging to any one person or place.

A stranger in your net.

An unexpected catch.

The stranger takes in big gulps of air, eyes still closed. His hand shakes slightly before he pushes himself onto his back. That is when his eyelids start to open, and you lean over him.

You don’t dare touch him.

“Do I behold an angel?”

You blink, stunned. “A—what?”

Eyelids fluttering, the stranger slips back into unconsciousness.

“Wake up,” you plead, grasping the sides of his face, checking for awareness. “Please.”

His breathing is even, but he’s out again.

Releasing the sides of his face, you survey the rest of him. His clothes are completely soaked, clinging to his skin. They reveal a muscled body beneath. But that isn’t all. On the stranger’s left side, there is a large dark spot in the fabric, and a small tear.

Slowly, you pull it up.

Your heart drops into your stomach.

The wound in his stomach is red and swollen. It’s bad, but might not yet be fatal. You’ve seen far worse. Helped heal worse. A wound like this will take time though.

While part of you wants to understand who this man is, it’s far from the most important thing.

“How am I to carry you?” you ask, as if he can answer.

If he were conscious, the stranger could help. But the man is out cold, and no matter how you try to rouse him, he won’t wake.

You don't want to drag him but you can't carry him.

“Oh, Uinen. Help me.”

Not that you expect an answer. You have to do this on your own.

Leaving the stranger on the dock, you rush back to the house. Grabbing a sturdy blanket, you head for the barn, bridling the horse, and attaching the contraption your father built for towing large objects.

Returning to the stranger, you do your best to push him onto the blanket. You half yank, half roll him onto the blanket before tying everything up.

“All right, Bessie. Forward now. Slowly. That’s it. Good girl.”

Bessie begins her ascent up the path. With the incline and oddly placed stones, she takes it slow, and you stay behind her, taking care to protect the stranger’s head. The process is slow, and takes up precious time, but Bessie makes it to the top.

From there, you guide her as close to the door as possible. Pushing the door wide, you return and detaching the makeshift sling. Bessie is too big to fit into the house, and this is the part where you have to drag the stranger into the house.

At least the blasted bell isn’t ringing anymore.

Your bed is too small. Choosing your father’s, you change course, dragging the stranger into your father’s bedroom.

You bring the stranger to a rest next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, you hook your arms underneath his armpits, and attempt to lift.

You fall right on your butt.

“Angel,” murmurs the stranger.

Leaning to the side, you gently cup his cheek. The stranger’s eyes are slightly open, awareness returning.

“I can’t lift you on my own,” you murmur, unsure if he’ll understand.

But he does.

The stranger nods. He’s a little out of it, but he assists in draping his arm over your shoulders, shifting his weight as you lift his upper half off the ground.

Groaning, you manage to get him partially onto the bed. Grabbing his feet next, you lift his legs, and then he’s in.

The stranger sighs, then winces, eyelids closing yet again.

His clothes will need to be removed and changed. Skin will need to be cleansed and any wounds checked over. The one in his side will likely need to be stitched closed. You’ll need blankets. A fire to keep him warm.

Already, he shivers.

Are there people looking for him? People searching? Or is he utterly alone? No family to speak of.

Lightly, your fingers brush the edge of his hairline. His hair is starting to dry. Small patches have turned auburn. It’s a lovely color.

“Whoever you are,” you murmur. “Wherever you come from. I’ll make sure you return.”

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[nerds-yearbook]

The last episode of the Mask cartoon aired on November 26, 1986. The series ran for 2 seasons and 75 episodes. ("Cliff Hanger", Mask, TV Event)

[asherlookit]

tulas relationship with violence is something thats so interesting to me. cause the moment her family's in danger, she will NOT hestitate, and it wouldve been easy to play that angle up so much more as the overprotective "ready to throw paws" character- but even so when I think about her the first word to come to mind is never "violent", and I think it's because throughout the season she's repeatedly chosen kindness in moments when she can. it's embedded into a lot of aabrias narration of tulas actions, this conscious drive of do good by others. tulas violence is never driven by a want to see others hurt, it's always a reaction rather than action- brennan has said a lot of her violent moments are driven by fear, and what she believes to be necessity. which is why (I'm 15 minutes in to the finale so far) her complete "bloodlust" as lila calls it is so jarring, and a real testament to how much tula sees phoebe as a threat- cause even when she's not in the thick of battle fighting to protect her family, this threat is big enough to her that she's actively planning to kill phoebe, which is just not something we've seen her really do as far as my memory goes??? idk I just love tulas character and she's very interesting to me

[pit-and-the-pen]

My Sisters Keeper- PT I

Summary: Rose has protected Violet for as long as they've been alive. But in the riders' quadrant, you live to be a rider or die trying.

Content warning: Cursing, canon level fighting.

WC: 6.5k

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

I stood outside of my mothers office, ringing my hands. I had stopped minutes ago. Working up the courage to walk in there and give my mother a piece of my mind. Through the thick wooden door I heard exactly what I needed to. That tone my mother so often got. The one that I fought to make sure she never used with Violet. I shoved through the doorway, ignoring the tingle it shot through my arms. 

“You can’t let her go through with this mom.” 

“Rose!” Mira scolded me immediately. But I kept my eyes locked on my mother. General Sorrengail. 

As I held her glare, I heard the faint rumble of thunder. 

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do with my daughter.” She spoke slowly, eliciting every word,

“I will if you’re sending her off to get killed.”

“Sorrengail’s are riders. You’re a rider.”

“Brennan was a rider too.” Her face fell for a fraction of a second before she stood up a little straighter, squaring back her shoulders. 

“She is going. End of discussion.” I opened my mouth to speak. “End.Of.Discussion.Rose. Now get out.” Her nostrils flared and I clenched my hands into fists by my side. Sensing that I was about to really lose it, Mira tugged on my arm. Pulling me from the room with  Violet walking behind us. 

“Do you have a death wish?” Mira scolds me the moment we’re out of earshot from the door.

“If it keeps her safe.”

“You keep her safe by surviving the parapet, not by pissing off the general so much she kills you before you can.”

“Mira-”

“Stop. I’m right here.” Violer cuts me off and I feel shame heat up my cheeks.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t think you can protect yourself…” I grapple with the words, they come out too fast and everything sounds wrong.

“I get it. But I need you to believe in me. I need someone to think that I’m going to make it.” The words cut through me. Sobering my rage and I nod. Mira rolls her eyes at the two of us.

“Now, if we’re done being so sentimental. Here.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out two matching vests. 

“Are those…” 

“Dragon scales. Yes. Got them from Teine during his last molt. Put them on, and don’t take them off. Both of you.” She hands Violet and I the vests and helps Violets into hers. I study mine as I slide it on. A simple vest but the scales extend up higher on mine, right to the base of my head. It would completely cover my neck. Mira sees me struggling to fix the top part in place and comes over to give me a hand. 

“It ties down into the vest, that way no one could cut it or untie it if they get your hands on you.” She pulls the leather ties into two holes on the top of my shoulders. I give my neck a twist back and forth. Surprisingly, it doesn’t cut off my movement. It fits perfectly snug.  She gives me a proud nod and I try not to blush under the weight of her gaze. 

“Now, other matters. This bag weighs nearly as much as you do, Vi. What the hell is in here.”

“Just stuff that I’ll need.” Violet answers as Mira starts pulling book after book from the pack.

“You’ll still have access to the archives. You don’t need all of these.” Violet starts to protest. 

“I’ll keep these with me. I promise.” Mira continues before Violet could interrupt her. “And you need to change. Those robes will become a sail up on the parapet.”

Mira quickly shoves some riding leathers into Violet's arms. Gesturing for her to change right there. She does and I get a view of just how small my sister is. She was trained to be a scribe. She hasn’t had years to build the muscle that I have. The gray tips in her hair tell just how much the fever affected her more. 

“And if you won’t cut your hair, at least tie it back.” Mira says. I sigh and motion for Violet to turn around so I can braid it back. She finally gives her a once over and makes a content grunt. “Better.”

She looks over at me and doesn’t seem to find anything she needs to change. 

“As expected. Although you should cut your hair too.” 

“I’d have to shave half of it to get rid of it, ya know?”

I know she’s talking about the silver streak that starts from my scalp. Only about the width of my hand but enough to let people know that both twins were affected. 

“Let them know, I don’t care. It’ll just make it better when I beat them all.”

“She’s got a point.” Violet murmurs in agreement with me. Mira rolls her eyes more dramatically this time. She looks like she is about to say something before a bell cuts off her words. 

“Shit. Okay, one last thing for both of you.” She reaches into her sheathes and pulls out three daggers and slides them into Violet’s vest. Then she hands me my sword. 

“Both of them are balanced for you. I know you’re used to that sword Rose. It’s better than any stock you’ll find in the college.” I put it in place on my back and the moment it’s settled Mira sweeps both of us up in a bone crushing hug. My hands go numb but I force them to hug her back anyways. She releases us as a second bell tolls and she walks us only to the edge of the steps. 

“Don’t make me an only child. Or make me live with only one twin.”

And that’s all we get before we start climbing the stairs, watching Mira disappear around a corner. I grab a hold of Violet's hand as we start climbing, my arm out behind me. Eventually we reach the rest of the group. The others that are waiting their turn to cross the parapet. The line is longer than I imagined. 

Violet and I are sandwiched in between a girl with dark skin and curly hair tied up against the crown of her head, and a blond boy who is fiddling with a golden ring on a chain around his neck. 

“I’m Rhiannon.” She says to me, I almost flinch. Not expecting her to talk to either one of us. When I don’t respond fast enough, Violet reaches past me to extend her hand to the girl.

“I’m Violet and the grumpy one is Rose.”

“Twins?” She says, eyeing the both of us. We nod. 

“Cool.”

“I’m Dylan.” The boy behind us chips in and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Dylan goes on about the girl he’s engaged to back home. “We’re waiting until I graduate but the first thing I’m doing is marrying her. We wanted to do it before but she told me she could wait.” 

Violet nods along and I try to look interested. Don’t make friends. That was what I’ve been told for as long as I can remember. You don’t make friends here. Because it will only hurt that much more when you have to watch them die. Violet apparently didn’t get the memo. 

Violet is quiet for a little bit and I can finally see the parapet ahead of us. 

“What size shoe do you wear?” She asks the girl in front of us, Rhiannon. I’m trying to forget her name but I just can’t for some reason. 

“Eight.” She answers, seeming a little confused.

“I’m a seven and half so it’ll be tight, but you need to switch shoes with me.” I snap my head back to Violet. 

“Are you crazy?” I hiss in a whisper to her. She ignores me. 

“With those shoes, you’ll slip right off the edge.” And she’s already taking off her shoe, holding it out for the girl to take. Rhiannon does the same. Whispering her thanks. 

We finally get to the front of the line. Rhiannon gives her name before the two of us. 

“Name?” The rider at the parapet asked the two of us. 

“Rose Sorrengail.” 

“Violet Sorrengail” The rider snapped her eyes up. Studying both of us. 

“As in General Sorrengail?” 

I rolled my eyes as I looked back at Violet before I quickly nodded to the rider in front of us. 

“The one and only.” 

“I thought there was only one coming through this year?” The rider quirked an eyebrow as her gaze fell to Violet. I felt that oh too familiar bubble rise in my chest. 

“Well there's two. So are you going to let us go now?” I crossed my arms, almost daring the rider to say something back. 

“Come on, some of us actually want to get through this thing. Are you both going to keep yapping or cross?” A voice from behind Dylan calls, and I turn my head around to see glacial blue eyes filled with so much pure loathing that it almost makes me flinch. “No one cares what your last name is. Either get moving or get out of my way.” I snap my jaw shut. 

“Go ahead.” She waves Violet through, giving my sister's hand one last squeeze. . 

“See you both on the other side.” Violet says as she takes her first step onto the parapet. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught. Keep Violet safe. That was the reason I was the rider and she was the scribe. My breath catches as she stumbles for half a second. She’s nimble but I’m scared she'll be knocked over with the way her arms are limply held out beside her. 

Finally, she’s far enough across that they let me go. 

Mira was right, the wind was wicked up on the wall. The stray bits of my hair whipped around my face, luckily I had the sense to tie it back or else I wouldn’t be able to see a damned thing. I take a steadying breath to try to calm my raging heartbeat. I’m a Sorrengail. I am a rider. I was trained to be a rider my whole life. I will not die today. The words Violet said earlier echoes in my ears. Neither of us will. I keep my eyes trained on my sister's braid, the silver hair peeking out through the woven strands of hair. She stumbles again and I bolt a step or two closer towards her. Catching up to her as much as I can while still keeping my own footing. It’s slicker than mud up here on the smooth stones. I’m close enough to Violet that I could reach out and grab her if need be. But I know she needs to do this on her own. She’ll never let me live it down if I help her get through this. But she loses her footing as a strong gust of wind blows and she almost goes over the side. 

I curse and beg my feet to move faster. I swore I heard something pop as her knee landed on the hard ground. She’s half hanging on and I can’t catch up with her. No matter how hard I clench the muscles in my core, the wind is too strong to fight against so I’m forced to sit and watch as Violet scrambles to pull herself up. 

“Come on, Vi.” I shout and I see her rolling onto her back, safely on the parapet again. Well as safe as she’s going to get up here. I let out a relieved sigh and focused on the path in front of me again. 

But before I can pull my focus back to me, I hear a curse then a yelp from behind me. I risk a glance backwards just in time to see Dylan go over the ledge. My body acts faster than I do, leaping towards the spot where his foot would have just been but I’m too slow. Too slow by a long shot and I see his panicked look as he realizes he’s falling. I close my eyes before I can see him land. Damn it Violet. 

That move wasted strength and I have to push myself off of my stomach. Wobbling ever so slightly as I lock eyes with the boy from earlier. Jack Barlow, I heard him when he gave his name loud and proud for everyone to hear. He smirks and puts his head down like a bull as he starts to charge at me. He doesn't miss a step. Doesn’t stumble for a second as he closes the gap in between us and it’s my turn for panic to wash over me. I force my muscles to work, to turn in the opposite direction and run. I can’t make out the words Jack is screaming at me over the wind but I know that look. Jack is ready to kill me and my sister. He turns around and pulls another person over the edge of the parapet as if to prove his point. 

My side hurts, my calves are screaming at me as I put my weight into my thighs, forcing my center of gravity lower as I break into a run. 

“Violet, move.” I shout as I almost catch up with her. “Move. faster.” I grit out when she doesn’t speed up. She glances backwards and I know she sees the same thing I do. Jack barreled towards us at a breakneck speed. Her eyes go wide and she, thankfully, picks up the pace. We have less than a third of the parapet left in front of us but it’s more than enough time for Jack to catch up with us. I’m basically pushing Violet along with me, my hands on her back. Praying to Z that she moves faster. 

I feel the air whoosh around me as I push her towards the other side. Towards whatever semblance of safety becoming a cadet will grant us. And I almost sigh with relief as I see Violet land on the other side, rolling on her shoulder in an unnatural angle, but safe nonetheless. My feet leave the ground to leap and I feel someone’s arm wrap around my waist. Years of training make my body move faster than my mind. I push all my weight forward. Just barely wiggling out of the grip on my waist and feeling all my breath get pushed out of me as I land on my back. I fight back the yelp as I feel a stone press into my neck. Sending a wave of pain so sharp it brings tears to my eyes. I scramble to my feet just in time to see Violet with a dagger aimed right between Jack’s legs. 

“I’ll kill you.” He spits out. 

“No you won’t. Because the way I see it. You’re still on the parapet and she’s a cadet. And she literally has you by the balls on this one.” The rider at the ledge says and I see Violet’s hand push just a little further and I see a tinge of green color Jack's face. I fight the smirk off of my face. Maybe Violet will survive after all. He snaps his teeth at her and I’m beside her instantly. 

“Let me down.” He grits through his teeth and before I can protest, Violet is sheeting her dagger at her side and steps out of the way to let Jack step down. I gawk at her, but she avoids my gaze. Keeping her eyes locked on Barlow. 

He steps up to her, chest almost touching hers. “When I get the chance, you’re fucking dead. Both of you.” I push Violet out of the way and tuck her behind me. I make myself as tall as possible as I force venom into my words. 

“She might be our fathers daughter. But me, I got stuck with my mother.” I bit out. “So if you want to fuck with her, you go through me.” My fists balled against my sides.

“Bitch.” Jack spat near my  feet. I fought the urge to strangle him right there. But Violet tugged on my arm, pulling me away from him.. 

“At least think of something original.” I  muttered under my breath, letting my sister lead us closer to the college. 

The rider at the edge doesn’t look the least bit surprised at this interaction as she asks for our names. 

“Sorrengail?” She all but shouts and I wince. Suddenly feeling every set of eyes on us. I want to wrap myself around my sister. Shield her away from the wandering eyes of the other riders. And as I look around, there's only one that shakes me to my core. The dark hair, a rebel relic snaking along his neck. 

I watch his tan skin flush with anger for a mere second before his face becomes ice cold. I know exactly who it is. Xaden Riorson. And before I can spit out anything to him. A warm hand wraps around my arm. Tugging. I go to push whoever it is off and am met with familiar brown eyes that almost make me melt. Dain. 

“Shit.” He says under his breath as he looks from me to Violet. Violet who is desperately trying to hide the way she isn’t putting weight on her left leg. 

“Dain.” I fight to keep my voice neutral. To keep the way I’m swooning out of it. And he tugs both of us over to the side, out of hearing range from the other riders. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” And I know he isn’t asking me. His eyes are only on Violet, concern laced on every feature of his gorgeous face. I shake my head, trying to calm my mind. 

He’s changed in the last year since I saw him. His hair is a little longer and stubble covers the sides of his face. No longer the clean cut boy he was before he left for the riders quadrant. And I’m shocked at how…good he looks. Dressed in rider black, a sword peeking over his shoulder. He turns to me and I know he asked me something. Something that he’s expecting me to answer. 

Violet nudges me with her elbow and it snaps me back to where we are. I just got caught gawking at my best friend. My best friend who not so subtly told me he’d be counting down the minutes until he saw me again. My best friend who I may or may not have been in love with since he started sprouting like a weed when we were fifteen. 

“Sorry. Adrenaline.” I force the words out, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry. 

He sighs but a hint of a smile plays at the edge of his mouth. 

“Did you at least try to talk your mother out of it.” His words pull a snort from me. 

“Have you met my mother?”

His hand runs through his hair and I try not to think about how soft it must feel. Gods I need to get it together if I’m supposed to join his squad. 

“Listen, there's still time that we can sneak her into the scribes quadrant. They haven’t submitted the names and I know they would take her in a heartbeat.” Violet is already shaking her head. 

“She would just drag me back by my hair. She promised me as much this morning.”

“She’ll get over it. Once you’re in she can’t make them take you.”

“Dain, face it. I’m a rider now despite you being less than thrilled. I made it across. Doesn’t that count for anything.” I see the internal war he’s fighting as he chews on her words. Letting them sink in. 

“We’ll figure out something.” He says and Violet stalks away. Ready to give our names to the rider, not so patiently waiting for them. Leaving me alone with Dain for the first time in a year. 

He smiles my smile. The one that makes one side tug up higher than the other and makes  his eyes crinkle around the edges. Fuck it. I think and launch myself into his chest. Arms wrapping around his neck. He doesn't hesitate to squeeze me back, arms wrapping around my middle tight enough that my toes are the only thing touching the ground. He smells the same, cedar and wind and something that is utterly Dain. He releases me and holds me at arms length, looking me up and down so intensely that I fight the urge to look away. 

“You look good. And in one piece.” He puts another step in between us as I nod. “Tell the girl to put you in my squad. Flame section, second squad. Tell her this is me cashing in the favor she owes me.” He shots me a wink before he walks away, joining the rest of the riders who are looking at us with varying levels of confusion. Let them think what they want. I’m not here to make any friends. I repeat the words to the red-head taking names. And she nods. 

We wait for the rest of the rider candidates to make it across or fall. Once the formation is called, we find out that we lost almost 20 percent. The highest in the last decade. I blame the rain. 

We stand in a rough set of lines, Violet and I falling into near perfect formation as we guide Rhiannon behind us. Then I see him, staring directly at Violet and I with a look that roots me to the spot. He whispers something to the rider calling names, Nyra I think her name is. 

“Dain Aestos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s.” All Dain does is nod, his face tense. Violet and I share a glance that lets me know neither of us know what is happening. 

But as we passed the next squad, I sucked in a gasp. We’re being moved to fourth wing. Xadens wing. Xaden just stands there with that smirk that makes me want to push him over the edge. But I can’t. Infighting is strictly prohibited according to the codex. Of course, unless it can be excused as training or punishment. Which is exactly what Xaden will be able to do now. Xaden nods at Nyra and steps forward towards all of us. 

“You’re all cadets now. Take a look at your squad, these are the only people who aren’t allowed to kill you, per the codex. You want a dragon? Then earn one.” 

Cheers erupt around us. Violet and I just  glance at each other. I break formation to grab my hand in hers and Dain looks back, looks down at our joined hands and shakes his head. I don’t let go as Violet goes to pull her hand from mine. 

“And I bet some of you are feeling pretty bad ass right now. You made it into your first year, right? The elite, the chosen. Invincible even?” 

More cheers but the tone of his voice makes my stomach curl. The cheers get louder but over them I can hear the telltale sound of wings. 

Rhiannon gaps besides me. I lock my muscles into place to stop from fleeing as the riot flies right towards us. Instead I keep my head held high. Forcing my heartbeat to slow. Dragons can smell a coward from miles away. 

They land mere feet from us, the force enough to shake the ground. Screams rip through the air, but I keep my gaze ahead of me. 

I hear the sound of footfalls as people start to dash out of formation. I don’t close my eyes in time as I see the curl of flame reach out. And that smell, the smell of burnt flesh is one that I know I’ll never forget. It’s enough to make me gag. Violet squeezes my hand but says nothing. 

“Anyone else feel like changing their mind?” Silence. “No? Well then, half of you will be dead by the end of this year. Another third the year after. And even fewer will make it ‘til graduation. No one cares who your mommy,” He stares right at Violet and I. “or you daddy is here. Here you’re nothing more than a cadet. So who here still feels invincible.” More silence weighs the air like a blanket. “Good. Because to them you’re not, to them you’re just prey.” 

We’re left to our own devices for the rest of the day. Dain quickly pulls Violet to somewhere deeper into the college once they dismiss us from formation. I don’t wait around for them, instead going up to the dorms to sit for a second. The dorms are already noisy. Full of cadets talking over each other and I just lay down in my bed, pushing my pillow over my ears to drown out the noise of people I don’t want to get to know. People that will most likely be dead in the next couple of months. The thought shouldn’t bother me. I was trained to be a rider. And the only thing a rider cares about is their squad and their wings. But that doesn’t stop the single tear that drips down my face as I recall the way Dylan looked at me when he realized he was going to die. When he realized he would never get to marry that pretty girl back home. I lock the thoughts away into some deep vault in my mind. I don’t have time for weakness. I grant myself the moment to feel and then sit up in my bunk. Rolling my shoulders back with a deep breath. I stretch out the tension in my neck. Feeling the nerves protest against the movement but ignore it. 

I stay in the barracks until it’s time for dinner then head back right after I’m done. Violet lingers, talking to Rhiannon and the rest of our squad. I have no interest in fighting through the awkward glances and down right hateful glares of some of our fellow cadets. 

The next morning we’re called to formation after breakfast. Then comes the worst part of the day, the death roll. Name after name is called. Not enough time to process them, let alone mourn. 

Suddenly the names just stop. And that’s all there is before squad leaders turn to talk to us. Dain only gives Violet and I a quick once over before his face takes on that neutral look that has something inside of me clawing to get out. 

“I expect to see you all alive when we get to the sparring gym later.” And I feel Violet tense beside me. Right, the first day meant we have trials. A simple way to assess where all of us are with fighting. This will determine who we are put up against throughout the year. Do well and you put a target on your back, do poorly and you get an even bigger target on your back. Either way you’re screwed. 

“Sawyer” Dain calls to the boy beside him. 

“I’ll get them to class.” 

Sawyer shouts out the instructions on how to get to the classroom and I try my best to picture the steps. Storing them in my memory in hopes that I won't forget them within twenty minutes. 

Rhiannon, Violet and I walk together. I really hoped she would let h er go after the parapet. But it seems she’s intent on keeping her around, so I’ll tolerate her for now. 

A faint bird whistle has my head spinning. I catch that familiar tuff of brown hair and hook my arm around Violets pulling us away from Rhiannon. 

He ducks into a corner, hidden from sight. 

“How’s your knee?”  

“It hurts but I’ll live.”

“Good. Did anyone try to screw with you two last night?” He’s scanning us for injuries. We both shake our heads. 

“No one tried to kill us last night, if that's what you're asking.” I cross my arms, already annoyed by his hovering. 

“Dain. Take a breath.” I snapped at him. 

“You should both cut your hair.” He points to both of our braids. 

“Don’t you start with me now.” Violet  groans. 

“Why were we moved to fourth wing?”

It’s Dain’s turn to groan. His hand went to the side of his face, rubbing the stubble. 

“Dain?” Violet presses expectantly. 

“Fine. Riorson want’s Rose dead. Well both of you. But when he heard Rose was joining this year, he never shut up about it. It’s common knowledge and you just so happen to make it even more fun for him. Two birds with one stone or something.” 

“He’ll have to get through me first.”

“And that’s exactly what he wants, Ro.” He snaps back at me. “Just try to avoid him. As best as you can. He’s a wingleader so he is personally allowed to make your life a living hell. So please.” He turns to me fully. “Please don’t give him a reason to.” 

I roll my eyes and he grabs my hand. I flush from head to toe. “Rose. I’m serious here. Don’t give him more of a reason. Please.” And it’s that hint of concern. Concern so deep it makes my face hot that has me nodding my head. 

“You’re thinking like a rider now.” Violet mutters to herself. 

“I’m still me. Promise.” he taps his shoulder, where his signet patch should be. “I just have this now.”

My eyes go wide as I realize what his patch means. Classified. What signet does he have that warrants that? 

“I can read a person's recent memories.” And it’s whispered like a confession. I feel a frisson of fear. 

“Dain, that’s illegal.”

“Not like that. I can’t hear them from across the room. I have to touch a person’s face and it’s incredible.” 

“Okay, we’re going to be late if we keep talking.” I say as I hear the noise above us grow louder. 

“Just remember, stay away from Xaden. Low profile. Both of you.” He points to us and we both nod our head before we part ways.  But as we do, I see Xaden leaning over the railing to shout down at us. 

“I knew your parents were close but this is something else.” He shakes his head. “Tell me which one of you is he fucking?” 

If I wasn’t blushing I am now. Even the tips of Dain’s ears tinge with pink.

“He can’t hurt you right? You’re a squad leader and he’d have to call a quorum?”

“Yes but he can hurt you two.”

“I expected better from you Aestos. Should learn to hide your friends better.” He locks eyes on me. He was trying to bait us and I gave him all the ammunition he needed to make my life hell. 

“Run. Now” Dain orders and I grab Violet's arm and we bolt. 

My brain is mush throughout history, but of course Violet is the star pupil without even trying. We just barely make it to battle brief. Stuck in the first row thanks to the seats Rhiannon saves for us. 

Professor Markham stands at the front of the class as Devra steps aside to make room for him. His eyes soften as he lands on Violet. Of course he would recognize her. She trained under him for most of her life and he was certain she would be the best scribe in years. And she would have been. Still is. 

We launch right into the first question. No preamble to get us ready, straight to business. My eyes cloud over as I try to study the map, trying to focus on the details. This was always Violet’s strength not mine but I fight to keep up with her as she mutters to herself. 

Markham pushes us for questions and I hear Vilet mutter something to Rhiannon who calls out loudly. 

“What altitude was the village at?”

His eyes flicker to Violet who makes a point of looking anywhere but him. 

“A little less than a thousand feet. Why?”

She shrinks into herself a little. I don’t blame her, MArkham is intense when he wants to be. 

“Just seems a little high for an attack.”

“Keep going.” Markham pushes and Violet chimes in when Rhiannon pauses. 

Question after question and my head is reeling trying to keep up. I’m trying to connect the dots that she’s already seen. Jack eventually cuts her off and I clench my hands by my side. Finding something to twirl between my fingers so I don’t choke him for the tone he uses with Violet. That self-righteous, pompous tone. The asshole has the nerve to try to talk down to her when she easily knows more than even the second years. Devra scolds him for it. And I only give him a small smirk as I turn back to the front of the room. 

We’re dismissed shortly after and we all file into the gym. Now this. This I’m ready for. Violet may have me beat in academics But I can run circles around the first years in the gym. 

We’re called to the mats in pairs. 

We all watch in shock as Jack Barlow snaps the neck of his opponent. The sickening sound of bone crunching threatens to bring up my breakfast. He lets go of the limp body as the instructor rushes forward. Shouting at him. Barlow just stands with a shrug as he looks towards Violet and I. He’s strong but he’s big. Uncoordinated. He’d go down easy but Malek help you if he gets his arms around you. 

I’m finally called to the mat after a flawless victory from Rhiannon. Stepping onto the mat, I will my focus on the person standing in front of me. I didn’t listen to their name. I don’t care about their name. I care about the fact that when they lunge at me, there's a slight twitch in their left shoulder. I dodge it easily enough. Side stepping out of the way. I catch their still extended arm between their wrist and elbow. He tries to swing out of my grip but I only use it as leverage to twist his arm behind his back, palm facing up. I don’t hesitate to bring my elbow down on his extended arm. The telltale crunch letting me know I broke some bone. He cries out and I follow him as he falls to the ground. I have to keep him from hitting me.

“Yield damn it. I broke your arm.” I grit out. But he doesn’t. Just swings widely, trying to find any purchase as I pin him on his side. And I’m suddenly more grateful than words can explain as his hand makes contact with the back of my neck. I tense for a second, expecting the wash of fire to explode from every nerve in my body. But there's nothing. Another heartbeat and nothing. I’m so happy I could cheer, but I only put more pressure onto his broken arm and he cries out again. I twist his shoulder back slightly, knee resting in the hollow of his armpit and I can feel the muscle tense under me as I place myself to dislocate his shoulder. 

“Fine. I yield. I yield.” He yells as I still my foot. Stopping just in time for me to push him off of me. My shove knocks him onto his back and I can see the way he’s fighting the urge to cradle his arm. I sigh and stick my hand out for him to grab. He shoves it away and struggles to stand, slightly off balance. 

Someone escorts him to the menders and I file back in line. 

“He didn’t even touch you.” Rhiannon gasps out when I stand next to her. I shrug. Little does she know I’ve spent my whole life avoiding that very thing. Because if they do, I’m down. If I’m down then I’m dead. And no one here needs to know that. It’s bad enough they seem to be able to sniff out Violet’s weakness. But seeing mine. That might just be a death sentence for the both of us. 

One more fight and then I tense as Violet’s name gets called. She paired up against a pink-haired second year and I freeze completely when I see the rebel mark on her forearm. Shit. 

The two circle each other on the mat, whispering to each other too low for me to hear over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. 

Imogen is fast. Faster than humanly possible. 

“You can’t use your powers here.” Dain shouts. As Imogen flips Violet onto her back, my hand shoots out onto Dain’s arm. My fingers digging into the skin on his forearm to keep me from sprinting into the ring to pull Imogen off of my sister. A quick flash of metal makes my blood pressure skyrocket. She tried to use a dagger. I don’t feel relieved as Violet sends a punch that I know messes up her hand. Her thumb tucked in at just the right angle for the ligament to pop. 

Imogen is a blur once again and has her pinned before the instructor can scold her for using her powers. “Yield” She calls as she shoves Violet’s face into the mat. She doesn’t and I watch in horror as Imogen pulls her arms further behind her back. Further than arms should bend and I lunge forward at the same time as Dain. 

“Damn it, Violet, yield.” I call out. My voice died down just in time to hear the sickening crunch of bone again. This time followed by a cry I’m too familiar with. 

Emetterio calls for the end of the match as Violet goes limp in front of me. 

I’m rushing past Imogen, shoving her out of the way as I grab Violet. Shaking her slightly to try to get her to come back around. 

“Oops.” Imogen says in a sickly sweet tone. She walks another step before I trip her, leg hooking against her ankle. She topples to the ground and I roll myself onto her. Straddling her hips, and pinning her wrists to her sides with my knees. She thrashes in my hold but I just place more of my weight on her, pressing harder with my foot. 

“Try that shit again and you’re dead.” 

“Not if I kill her first.” She snarls at me. And I push until I feel the bone move in her hand. 

Suddenly I feel someone lifting me up by the collar of my shirt. Dain’s brown eyes stare into mine. 

“She’s in your squad. Back off before you get in trouble.” He whispers as I try to squirm out of his hold. 

“I don’t care.” I hiss back. 

“But I do. Stop. Or are you going to make me pull rank?” I stopped squirming. Pushing myself out of his grasp. 

“Go calm down. Now.” Dain hisses when I find my footing.

 Imogen is smiling up at me. Like I did exactly what she wanted. And I probably did. But as I walk out of the gym, I realize I don’t give a shit what they think. Not if it means protecting Violet.

Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @sarawritestories @milswrites @daycourtofficial

[18catsreading]

Brennan: so with your wits, you've stashed the shadow falcon protocol -- the real ine -- deep in your gear. The fake us lifted up as you are arrested, and the fake one is crushed. You feel your leg becoming warm.

Rehka: uh oh

Brennan: you turn around. Completely naked, is Carter Haldwell. He can't stop pissing.

Rehka: and he pissed on me?

Brennan: he literally can't stop pissing.

Alex: where's the water coming from?

Izzy: *quietly dying*

Brennan: He grabs you, pulls you close, and goes [as Haldwell]: what the fuck did you do to me?

Rehka/Usha/G13: there is a thing as being too hydrated. Well -- he said "what did you do to me?"

Brennan/Haldwell: what did you do to me? I've been pissing gallons. I can't stop. It doesn:t even make sense. There's not enough piss in me!

Rehka/Usha/G13: I'm just making you as uncomfortable as i always am.

Brennan/Haldwell: oh, shit. I'm sorry.

Usha/G13: no, i don't have incontinence.

Brennan/Haldwell: get this freak in jail!!

Brennan: so, I think the shadow falcon protocol and the badge, where would you hide them in a place where they could not find them?

Jacob: Oh! We don't need you to say it for us!

Izzy: *overlapping with Jacob, same energy*

Brennan: Straight-up, Usha, where are they?

Alex: as this is happening, can Kingskin calmly walk up towards G13 and go--

Brennan: yeah

Alex/Kingskin: Gentlemen, i'm sure this is a situation that a little paper could --

Ally: you have that? You have that ability?

Alex: I have Wealthy. I have: Spend a turbo token to ease a bad situation with cash.

Brennan: hell yea

Alex/Kingskin: it seems like a very bad situation, but I just, you know, hand him a stack and a handshake, see what happens.

Brennan: hell yes, uh, you have him a stack. You give this naked pissing FBI agent a stack of cash.

Alex: that's who i give it to?

Brennan: he is the agent in charge. He is in charge.

Alex/Kingskin: Gentlemen.

Brennan: you see he looks at it and goes [as Haldwell]: a little donation to the Bureau, Kingskin?

Alex/Kingskin: hey, use it however you'd like. Maybe for that missing finger.

Brennan/Haldwell: yeah. Yeah, I lost my finger, and I can't stop pissing.

Rehka: never stop pissing

Brennan: and you see he goes [as Haldwell]: all right, boys. No need to arrest these two. Looks like they've volunteered to come downtown and have a little talk with the Bureau about what the fuck the Empresario was doing here at G&G Industries. Isn't that right, G13? *Pulls them close menacingly*

Rehka/G13: spits

Brennan/Haldwell: ow!

Jacob: a thick loogie

Rehka: it was a kidney stone

Ally: ow!

Brennan: he goes [as Haldwell]: Get them downtown. They're cooperating, aren't they?

Brennan: and you see one of the agents leans over and goes [as Agent]: Agent Haldwell you need to go to the hospital right now.

Brennan: And he turns around and says [as Haldwell]: never tell me what to do again.

Brennan: and he goes [As Agent]: no, you ... its the whole ... Its the floor of the warehouse. Its spreading. Its like 30 feet in all directions.

[As Brennan]: and he goes [as Haldwell]: don't you think I know that, you fucking idiot? All right, get them downtown, and get me a shirt and tie! Don't get me pants!

Brennan: and he storms out of there. And the agents don't handcuff you but begin to lead you to a black town car to get you down to the Bureau to talk to them.

[rooolt]

immediate post msg show thoughts:

the Murph hair looks great, big things are coming in the next intrepid heroes season (in regards to hot Murph at least) but Murph jacket was insane

Emily and Siobhan also looked great, they looked exactly like their characters it was crazy

there was a portion where post intermission they had to adjust the lights so to fill time Murph and Lou did a whole wrestling bit, but they needed them in their seats to do the lights so it in fact wasted time

msg hot dogs are mid, too thick, throws off the ketchup ratio

I take responsibility for the 3 on the first group roll but at least we got gilear

Brennan and Murph kissed (on the mouth???? I’m unsure I was quite far)

NEW JERSEY MENTION!!!!!!!!! (There is trash there)

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Throne Scene Pt 2

If you haven’t read/ finished Iron Flame, do not proceed. 18 + content minors DO NOT INTERACT.

Concept: There are about 30 minutes to kill before Violet leaves to go fight the Venin and she knows she needs to feel Xaden because this could be the last time she does. (This is before they go to the hill and she finds out about the second signet) 

Side note: The Throne scene really does live rent free in my head. Sorry if this sucks this is my first time writing smut.

Violet’s POV: 

Everything has descended into chaos, scribes, riders, teachers and griffon riders alike are running around preparing to leave and fight for the place most of us had fled from.

Marching the stairs I go on my hunt, I need him to know I love him, I need to feel safe for one more moment before I potentially never see him again. 

Marching into the war room I see Xaden standing rigid, analyzing the map as he and Brennan talk in hushed tones. “Bonding over how much you both dislike that I’m leaving to fight for Basgiath?” Brennan turns and shakes his head, striding across the room and getting in my face. “You shouldn’t be going.” I roll my eyes as I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not my keeper Brennan. Now, if all you’re going to try and do is try and talk me out of going save your breath and get out. I need to speak to Xaden.” Brennan glares at me but turns on his heel “I hope you make it out of this alive Violet.” He tosses over his shoulder as he walks out, slamming the door behind him.

“We need to be leaving soon,” Xaden says, finally turning to look at me. His onyx and gold-flecked eyes access me up and down as he sits half on the arm of the throne, deflating from his previously stressed stance. Crossing the room I wedge myself in between his thick warm thighs and grab his face, kissing him like my life depended on it. “I need you. Please.” I send to him and he groans into the kiss, one hand going up my back and into my hair, as he tilts his head to deepen our kiss. My hands reach up, one going to push off his jacket while the other cups his stubbled jaw, his usually clean-shaved face has taken a shadow as of the past few days. 

“We don’t have enough time for everything I want to do to you.” His rough voice moans in my mind as I moan into him, his jacket falling into the seat of the throne. He stands abruptly, disconnecting our kiss as he stares down at me intensely, one of his large warm hands going to cup my face as I look up at him. “Let me have this, save the rest for when we get back.” I plead with him. “You’ll be the -” “Don’t finish that sentence Xaden Riorson, now can we continue?” I ask as he leans down to kiss me more tenderly, lips grazing mine as I rake my fingers through his black hair. 

“I’ll never say no to you Violence.” His hands snake around to rest on my ass as I jump up, he holds me with ease as I wind my arms around his neck. Moving to kiss down his jaw and down his neck, he groans as his hands grip my ass more tightly as he moves to sit on the throne properly with me in his lap. I grind against his clothed cock as I move my lips away from his neck to look at him. His onyx pupils look even darker than usual as he tilts his head back and growls deeply. “Violet please.” He begs and I feel my face and chest blush, Xaden begs for no one. “I’ll beg for you every day for the rest of my life if it makes you happy. “ His voice sounds breathy in my head. His hands move from my ass to the underneath of my jacket, pushing at the shoulders to get it down, lurching forward, his lips connect to my neck as white-hot pleasure shoots through my body as he sucks hard enough to leave a mark, teeth grazing as he nips at me. His lips slide lower as my jacket slips down my arm, kissing from my neck to my shoulder, to the exposed skin of my inner arm as he takes my jacket off my wrists, drops it to the ground and pulls back. His tawny brown skin flushed as he smirked at me. “If I could leave my mark on you all the time I would.” Xaden’s voice drops into a husky tone as I smirk back at him. “What’s stopping you from doing just that, because I’m not saying no to that offer.” 

His arms wrap around my waist and flip us around as he works my pants and underwear off, his broad body towering over me. In a few swift seconds, he’s got them exposed and the chill of the air hits my bare lower half. Flinging them carelessly across the room without breaking eye contact he grabs hold of my ankle and kisses it, leaving feather-light kisses up to my thighs and close to my exposed cunt. My head tilts back as his breath fans across me, my breath hitching as my hands move to grab the arms of the chair. “I need you this time. Not your tongue, as delightful as it may be. Please.” I beg. 

“Since you asked me so nicely.” He pulls back as my legs rest against the throne and I reach forward to unzip his pants and work them over his hips and down his toned legs. He pushes them the rest of the way off and steps out, hands grabbing my hips and lifting me again as I wrap them around his waist. He sits with me hovering over the tip, his cock hard and dripping precum as he latches back onto my neck teasing my cunt by sliding his cock from my entrance to my clit and back, I fist the hair at the nape of his neck moaning. Pleasure all-consuming and he’s not even inside me yet. “Fuck, I’ve needed you. I’ll always need you, Violet.” He shifts and finally gives in as the tip of his thick rigid cock pushes into me and I move to sink down onto it, Xaden’s grip on my waist is tight enough to bruise, though I don’t really care. “So good for me, good girl. God, you’re so wet” He praises as I feel him finally sheathed all the way inside me, he makes me feel so fucking full. I bounce on his cock, somehow making it go deeper with every movement and his hips thrust to meet me halfway. I press my lips back to his, our gasps and skin slapping filling the room. “I’ve needed you.” He rolls his hips in a way that has my back arching, cold shadows skate across my skin as Xaden bounces me up and down his cock. The shadows split two ways and I feel one skating across my nipples, tugging on them as the other goes to my clit, cold pressure hits me and feels like rubbing and I shiver as Xaden pulls back from me. Watching as I writhe against him, one hand moving from my hip to play with one of my nipples, the shadow on that side relenting. The sensation of rubbing against my clit gets even stronger as I shoot pleading eyes at Xadens lust blown ones. “Please, Please, Xaden I need you. Please.” I’m close to completely unravelling as he thrusts into me even harder, his chest heaving. “Yes Violence, come undone for me.” I throw my head back as I shutter around him, white-hot bliss over taking my whole body as he continuously thrusts into me. Using only one hand on my hip to bounce me up and down while the other moves away from my breast, the cold shadow working on my other nipple ceases. “I’m yours, all yours in this life and if Malek grants me another then that one as well. There will only ever be you Violet. Whatever is left of my life, it’s yours.” ‘I love you, in this life and the next.” Even mentally my voice sounds strained with need. His thrusts get sloppier as he pulls me back into him, his scent surrounding me as his tongue grazes my lower lip and I open my mouth to let him in as he gently traces his tongue against mine. The pressure on my clit intensifies as I feel his cock twitch inside me, the feeling of my releasing barreling towards me again, faster and harder than the last as the coil in my abdomen starts to come undone. He shudders as we come undone together, disconnecting our lips as we lean our sweaty foreheads together, panting. Silence fills the room and for a heartbeat, there’s only him and I. Complete, together and safe. 

“If you two are done we have a war to get to,” Ridoc shouts through the door as we startle apart, falling back, Xadens arms shoot out and grab my torso, pulling me back to his chest. “We’ll be out in a moment, jackass,” Xaden shouts back and Ridoc laughs. “Just be glad Rhiannon talked sense into Brennan from storming in there and trying to kill you when he clued into why there was suddenly a lightning storm.” I flush in embarrassment as I move to get up and off, some of Xaden’s cum dripping out and onto his lap, as I hop off. “Sorry!” I shout back and Ridoc laughs as we hear his steps go away from the door. Retrieving my clothes I hear Xaden shuffle and zip up his pants as I work on getting mine back on. Turning, I come face to face with his leather-clad chest as he holds out my jacket. I turn as he helps me get my arms into it and face him again as his hands move to zip it up. He places a tender kiss on my forehead before he steps back. Going back to the tense and rigid look he had when I had first come in, his hand reaching for mine and I lace our fingers together. “We’ll get through this,” I say and he nods, some black hair falling into his eyes. “We’ll get through this.” He says back as he leads the way out of the room with me by his side.