#and i'm sorry but i am not holding your hand

[dualityvn]

Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with. 

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in. 

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left. 

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker. 

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in. 

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here. 

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew. 

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you. 

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!” 

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away. 

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.” 

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort. 

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like. 

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.” 

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild. 

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.” 

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out? 

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you. 

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth. 

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully. 

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave. 

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!” 

What the hell was that? How far gone is he? 

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them. 

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink. 

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.” 

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!” 

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you. 

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall. 

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute. 

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other. 

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away. 

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad. 

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better. 

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs. 

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart! 

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly. 

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features. 

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes. 

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly. 

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

[buniwrite]

am i making you flustered ?

unintentionally making you flustered with tobio kageyama and akaashi keiji.

notes: fem!reader, fluff, established relationships, all during high school, around 300 words per character. akaashi knew what he was doing: that wasn't unintentional. english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. hope you like it! <3

tobio kageyama ⭑.ᐟ

the sun was long gone, and the freezing air of the night danced around you, making you shiver with cold. you were waiting outside the school's gym after finishing with your own club activities. your boyfriend should be stepping out soon with the rest of his teammates.

you entertained yourself looking at your phone, checking messages and the new things your friends posted. your uncovered hands out of your pockets so that you could hold the screen comfortably.

"hey" a well-known voice suddenly greeted you.

"tobio, hi ! i was just waiting for you, i didn't hear you step out sorry" you apologize, being too caught up in your own world and having missed your boyfriend making his way to you.

"it's okay", he nodded his head "let's go?".

putting your phone in your pocket you nodded with a smile. out of the school gates you parted ways with his teammates and started walking towards your house. a comfortable silence settled between the both of you, and suddenly you had the urge to take his hand. without thinking twice you reached out for it making his steps cease.

"y/n your hand is freezing !" he exclaimed with slightly bigger eyes "come here".

he stood in front of you and took both your hands in his warmer ones. he then started to move them quickly against yours in an effort to make them warmer, finishing by raising your hands to his lips and giving them a soft peck.

he said nothing more, letting go one of your hands and intertwining the other with his own, putting them inside his coat's pocket as he started to pick up the pace again.

you weren't able to say a thing, too stunned by his sudden sweet action. the whole way to your house, you kept stealing glances of his face, your cheeks bright pink and a your heart loudly beating.

safe to say you didn't feel cold anymore.

akaashi keiji ⭑.ᐟ

"ouch ! hot" you let out as you put down the cup filled with the hot tea that made you squeal in pain.

akaashi looked up to you with a concerned face, settling aside the book he was reading "too hot? sorry i should've warned you" he softly apologized, raising his hands to your face, cupping it gently "whatever shall i do to make it up to you".

giggling at the dramatics of his voice you told him not to worry, he was forgiven. his hands left your face after landing a peck on your forehead, opening his book again "okay then, be careful".

thirty minutes later he reached out for the teapot to refill his cup only to find it empty. standing up to head towards the kitchen, he directed his voice to you "i'm gonna make more tea, which one do you want?", no response "sweetheart?". he turned around and found you sleeping over your homework. letting out a chuckle he put the teapot back to its place and leaned down to you, getting the strands of hair off your face to observe your sleepy features better.

slowly, you awoke due to his soft touch. "keiji?" he hummed, acknowledging you. "sorry i must've fallen asleep".

"you must be tired, staying up all night studying" he comforted you "let's go take a nap, hm?" he concluded and picked you up in his arms, walking to his bed and laying you on it.

you turned to your side, looking at him as his fingers grabbed the end of his shirt and threw it up his head, abandoning it somewhere in his room. "it's hot", he excused.

he laid down by your side, sneaking an arm under your waist to pull you towards him. his unoccupied hand softly grabbed your jaw and lifted your face towards his, leaning in for a soft kiss. "get some rest ".

you couldn't sleep for the first twenty minutes, your face hot against his bare chest and your heart beating hard against your ribcage. the smell of him filled your senses and one of his hands had sneaked under your shirt to softly caress your skin. once you calmed your beating heart you were able to fall asleep and dream by his side.

if only he knew the effect he still has on you after all this time.

masterlist | about me | request rules

[slvt4chrissturniolo]

chris sturniolo headcannons ♡ bf!chris x reader ♡

《 sfw 》

bf!chris who... spends a lot of money on you, buying you everything that you want or reminds him of you - even though he hates spending money

"chris look at how cute this top is!"

"give it to me baby, I'll get it for you"

"no it's 60 dollars. I'm not letting you do that for me"

chris didn't care though, he knows you wanted the top really bad. so he grabbed it out from your hand and bought it for you.

bf!chris who... stares at you while you sleep

4:26 am ● chris's eyes fluttered open, he was waking up for the third time this night. yet he found comfort in holding you in his arms - looking down at you breathing ever so lightly againt his chest. he moved a peice of hair away from your face and kissed your forehead. falling asleep while gazing at your beauty.

bf!chris who... learned how to drive for you

bf!chris who... is always touching you, whether it's a hand in your back pocket, his arms around your waist or just holding hands

you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth. in the mirror, you saw chris walk in. he smiled as he wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing his body close to your back. he started to kiss you neck and touch your waist up and down.

bf!chris who... tracks your period to know when to come over and bring your favorite snacks and drinks

8:12 pm ● you were laying in bed dealing with horrible cramps, you called chris wihtout telling him about how you felt.

"can you come over please"

"yeah of course baby"

chris got up from the couch, grabbing his keys and wallet. knowing you were on your period he was thinking about what to get you at a gas station before seeing you.

"thank you, love you drive safe"

"I will, love you y/n"

20 minutes later, chris knocked on your door. you got up, with a stabbing pain in your stomach doing so. you opened the door to chris holding your favorite chocolates, gummy worms, your favorite soda and chips.

bf!chris who... bought the perfume you were so he can have your scent with him at all times

bf!chris who... is always texting you in videos

the triplets were filming a car video, and chris wouldnt stop smilingat his phone.

"chris get off your fucking phone"

"yeah chris we've been filming for 10 fucking minutes and the whole time you've been texting."

"sorry guys"

chris puts his phone in his pocket, with red cheeks and a big smile on his face. he was helping you decide what to wear, telling you his favorite outfits and how much he loves them on you.

bf!chris who... goes on trips (like italy) without you but brings you back snacks, clothes, plushies, candles and little trinkets he knows you'd love

bf!chris who... is just so genuinely in love with you. he's constantly staring at you. he's zoned out while watching TV because he was busy staring at you, missed green lights while driving, and he even gets distracted by you while doing tasks like pouring drinks. he's constantly enchanted by you, your beauty is everything to chris.

you and Chris were watching tv together in his bed, laying next to each other with his arm around you. you noticed he'd been staring at you for what had felt like minutes. you turned your head, and let out a laugh to ask him about him staring, since he didn't even stop when you turned.

"chris are you watching the show?"

"yeah, I'm sorry baby, you're just so fucking gorgeous."

bf!chris who... had his thoughts on marriage changed after meeting you. he fell inloved with you from the first look of you, he knew he wanted to marry you. his entire life he has had thought about marriage as unnecessary and dumb. although he saw you those opinions were changed. when seeing you walk down the isle, his eyes were watering, he never thought he'd be getting married let alone crying on his wedding day.

[midnight-bay-if]

hiii, hope the flu’s gone away even if somewhat, bug my ask is a spin on this ask;

https://www.tumblr.com/midnight-bay-if/768586461085908992/hmhmhm-if-youre-up-for-it-mc-tackling-their-ro

but uh-oh! they CAN’T get up because they’ve been wounded/too damaged TO get up, how would the RO’s react then?

(sorry if i already asked this in some form, i think last time i did was like 4am and much less coherent)

(I wrote these as if the ROs are already in a relationship, but also, I had to make sure the MC showed a sign of life at the end because my emotions have been yo-yo-ing recently, and I don't think I can bring myself to go full pain, haha. I can direct you to this ask for that :) Sorry this took so long!)

S: Initially, It isn't apparent what - or who - hit them. One moment, they were deflecting blows from a particularly pertinent foe; the next, they were on their side, the gravel of the ground cutting into their skin. The burn is enough to distract them initially, but the dead weight on top of them eventually demands an audience. They regret their hesitation almost immediately. "MC!"

They carefully manoeuvre themselves out from beneath you and lay you flat on your back. You are bleeding heavily, and your eyes aren't open. They have already jostled you too much to escape, so they will not try to move you further. "Time to wake up now," they say aloud, ignoring the crack in their voice as they appraise your injuries. "Rain! Call an ambulance!" They trust that their voice carries because they cannot bear to look away from you for even a moment.

They tear at the pieces of their clothing that are thin enough to tear and create tourniquets for the deep cuts on your limbs. It's not enough, but it is all they can do to stem the bleeding. "I'm so sorry, darling," they whisper, reaching down to take your hand, holding it against their chest, ignoring how limp it feels. "I'm sorry I was not quick enough; it should be me... it should be me..."

It is almost too good to be true when they feel the lightest squeeze of your hand against theirs.

Rain: They know it is you almost instinctively. You have always been so brave; of course, you wouldn't think twice about knocking them out of danger. It's who you are. It's one of the reasons they fell in love with you in the first place. But... this?

They see you limp, motionless, and it feels like their heart has been ripped out through their throat. Or maybe that's the feeling of a scream being shredding their throat. "No, no, no, no," they whimper, over and over, as they frantically search for signs of life. It is lucky Selby is beside them because Rain is no longer in control of themselves. The urge to maim, to kill, to seek vengeance is something they learned to push down some time ago, but it all comes back in a rush.

The words "they are still breathing" are all that stops them. Selby rises to get help, leaving Rain alone by your side. Knowing you are still breathing, Rain presses their forehead against yours so they can feel your breath hitting their cheek. "I am here, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

It may have been their imagination, but they are sure they see your lips twitch a smile.

Taj: "Watch it, you lump," Taj gibes, thinking you had mistakenly fallen into them. It's only when you both fall down, and you do not get back up that they realise the severity. You should be arguing with them, telling them it's their fault for not paying attention, or shouting that you are okay. Anything. "MC, get your ass up."

You don't even flinch.

Taj sees red. The person responsible has their throat ripped out before they can take their next breath. "Taj, leave it! Focus on MC!" Selby gives the order, but they do not know if they can. How can they bear to see? What if you are not breathing? What if you have just died protecting them because they were too damn slow?!

It feels as if their heart is being crushed in their chest, but they force themselves to their knees beside you. "MC, wake the fuck up! I'm not kidding!" They shout, slapping your face enough to sting without bruising. When that doesn't work, Taj grabs your hand and holds two fingers against your pulse point. They feel it.

"Keep fighting, koel; I owe you a kick in the ass for doing something so stupid."

N: It all happened so quickly. They had been taunting their latest prey, enjoying watching them squirm beneath their fingers, when suddenly, a scream - your scream - rings inside their head, and they are hurtling across the floor. The pain is nothing compared to the silence that follows.

They twist their head around and see you there, lying still; now it is they who scream. "I forbid it," they whisper, crawling to you with all the will they have left, ready to give it to you - in their blood if they must. When their hand reaches your shoulder, they cup your cheek with the other, your blood soaking their hand. They are about to choke on their grief when they see your chest rising. "You're alive," they whisper, aghast. "Now you stay alive, you hear? I would be awfully put out if you died, my dear. I came a long way to find you; you wouldn't let that be for nothing, right?"

They will wait to hear your answer for however long it takes.

Umbra: They let down their guard. How dare they?! HOW DARE THEY?! Umbra's entire world turns black. For a moment, they return to their natural state: the creature who knows no will of their own, an echo, a weapon... and then they open their eyes. They stand in a puddle of blood of their own making, surrounded by those who dared.

Then, they rush to you with blood-soaked hands, but dare not touch you. Tears in their eyes, they rub their hands against their clothes, but the blood merely smudges, the metallic tang making them gag. "I-- I can't, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

Umbra doesn't know what they meant to say. They only wish to make it stop. To make it all stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were not supposed to do this. This is for them. Not you. Not this. "I am scared."

Death is easy; loss is unconscionable.

Then, they see it; your chest rises with a breath. "Yes! Breathe!" They laugh hysterically, finally grabbing your hands in theirs. "I- I do not know how to make it go away, so I will get help. You are going to be okay; I promise."

(P.S. It is very difficult to write when a cat is adamant that your seat is theirs.)

[the-froschamethyst4]

She is My One and All

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, language, kissing, praising, children, married couple, use of John, overprotective, smoking,

𖤐Summary: I mean can you blame him? You carried his children for 9 months and you are so perfect, of course the man is going to be whipped for his wife

————

————

7:00PM

Getting ready for the Military Ball, Y/n was just putting in her earrings and was doing the last bit of her makeup, John was downstairs talking with his mother on not to give Beau and Iris candy after a certain time, almost like the gremlins.

"My love, are you almost done?" John came into the master bedroom and coming around the corner to the big bathroom, he shared with her.

"Almost," she says, John stops in the doorway and looks at his wife, mesmerized by how she looks in her silk white dress. She then peaks at him through the mirror. "What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing...you just look beautiful," he says.

"Thank you," she puts her brush down and walks to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips. "You look very handsome," she says, messing with the collar of his shirt and rolling the tie in her right hand.

"I try," he smirks.

"Mum, do you have to go?" Beau came into the bedroom.

"Yes, baby, I do, you'll have fun with grandma, you always do, what's wrong this time?" She asked.

"I just don't want you to go."

"What about me?" John looks at his son kind of offended.

"You'll be fine, you have friends there."

John just shakes his head at his son and rolls his eyes. "Whatever," John said, he placed his hand on Y/n's hip and looks at her. "You ready now?"

"Yes, come on," she grabs her purse and John grabs his keys. They told their kids goodbye, to behave, and go to bed on time, and they'll be home later tonight.

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

7:30PM

John opened the car door and helped Y/n out, she linked her hand through John's arm as they walked up to huge mansion. Y/n looks at the white marble, it was gorgeous but it wasn't drawing John's attention, his eyes were only on Y/n.

"Price!" Both John and Y/n looked to see where the voice came from and it was Kyle, he waved to both of them.

"You go on ahead, I'm gonna go find a drink," Y/n tells him.

"You are?"

"Yep," she kisses his cheek. "Go talk with them, you haven't seen them in a year, go on."

Y/n walked to the bar and had asked for a mai tai, she takes a few sips as then someone had approached her, she ignored them at first cause she knew it wasn't her husband.

"Hey," the guy said, she moves her eyes to look out of her peripheral.

"Hi," she gives him a short response.

"I see you're alone? You here with a friend, or where you part of-"

"I wasn't part of the military and I'm here with my husband," Y/n cuts the guy off. "And who are you?"

"I'm Jake Herron-well...Sargent Jake Herron," he sounds cocky, full of himself, an asshole. "I'm here alone." He adds in like that was suppose to mean anything to Y/n.

"Again, my husband," she repeats, she picks up her drink and starts moving to where the last time she saw John.

"Hey wait!" Jake grabs Y/n's wrist.

"Let go," Y/n says, trying to yank her wrist away, but Jake held a good grip on her.

"No, wait, just talk to me, give me a chance-"

"I'm sorry did you not hear me, the first time? I have a husband, I am very much NOT INTERESTED IN YOU!" She yanks her wrist, getting it freed and she slightly falls back but was caught.

"The fuck is going on?" John says, his voice deep and serious as his focus was on Jake because he knows he's the one who started it.

"Captain...I...I umm~"

"I'm pretty sure, my wife told you she is married, so get your ass moving," some of the people that were around all glared at Jake and started moving towards Jake, not touching him but instead puffing out their chests in a way and pushing him out that way.

"What was that about?" John asked, holding Y/n close to him.

"I don't know, I've never experienced that before," she says.

"And you won't again, not while I'm here," he says.

"Y/N!!" Kyle yells hugging her.

"See you're turning heads, Y/n," Simon says.

"I don't want to be," she said.

"You want a cigar?" Johnny asked Y/n, offering her one of his big cigars.

"Oh, no thank you, Johnny," Y/n politely declines as John takes one and lights it. Both Johnny, Simon and John were smoking each a cigar, while Kyle and Y/n just stood to the side listening to the guys speak.

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

8:30PM

Kyle and Y/n had walked to these couches sitting in the middle of the room while John was still with Johnny and Simon outside smoking, but John wasn't focused on the conversation anymore but was focused on his wife.

Y/n's head was resting on her hand that made a fist, she reached out and placed her hand on Kyle's hand to agree with him, her smile was bright, brighter then this Heavens Gate white lighting in this mansion.

John trusted his friends, so he isn't going to storm to Kyle and yank him off that couch and possibly chuck him out of the mansion.

"Price, you listening?" Simon says.

"Hello?" Johnny then says.

"Sorry, no, I wasn't, what were we talking about?" John said to them both.

"Never mind, you were looking at her the whole time," Simon said.

"Sorry," John says, turning and looking at her again.

"You are so fucking whipped for her," Johnny laughs and Simon chuckles.

"Of course I am...she carried my children for 9 months, and she is the woman I've been asking for my whole life...I'm fucking lucky to even have her in my life."

"Whipped," Simon says.

"You both have wives, you're not like this?" John asked.

"Oh no we are," Johnny says.

"Mine drives me absolutely mad," Simon says, putting his head back but held a smirk on his face, if you catch his drift.

"You could say that again."

"Whipped," John then says.

"John." Y/n walks up to her husband. "I think I'm ready to go." And with that sentence, John and Y/n both said their goodbyes to John's friends and headed back home for the night.

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

9:10PM

Y/n had opened the front door, John comes in behind her and before Y/n could bend down to take off her heels, John had beat her to it, lifting her foot out of the heel and placing her foot on the ground and doing the same with the other foot.

"Mum?" John calls out. He removes his jacket and Y/n walked further into the living room.

"John," she whispers. Looking over the couch there was John's mom on the couch with Beau snuggled to her left, Iris on her right and a children's book that fell on their grandma's chest. All three passed out.

"So cute," Y/n says. She picks up Iris and John picked up Beau.

John watches Y/n tuck Iris into bed and hearing a yawn they turned and saw John's mom.

"Well, good morning sleeping beauty." John jokes with her and earned a smack on his shoulder.

"You two are back early."

"Someone wanted to leave," John says.

"I just wanted to get back home," Y/n says, walking to the door and shutting it behind her. "Thank you for watching them."

"Of course, and I'll keep doing it too, they are such sweethearts."

"Well, they have a good mother." John says.

"And they have a good father," Y/n smiles up at him.

"You both are perfect."

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

John had escorted his mom to her car and waved her goodbye as Y/n was inside getting her pajamas on ready for bed.

"Mum says bye, by the way."

"I wish I was done there, but I'm so tired."

"She understands, you're a mother, and you just got back from a party basically," he says, as he starts getting his pajamas on.

John sits on the bed and gets under the covers, and cuddles close to Y/n.

"Did you have fun?"

"I did."

"What did you and Kyle talk about?"

"The good old days with you two being in the military, funny moments, stuff like that," she shrugs her shoulders.

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

Waking up the next morning, John was getting ready for his morning routine run, he was downstairs when he sees Iris come down.

"Hi, baby."

"Daddy, where's mama?"

"Still in bed."

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Out for a run like usual."

"Can I come?"

"Not today, baby."

"Morning," Y/n says, yawning and coming down the stairs, Iris runs towards Y/n and she picks her up.

John looks at Y/n who was in one of his shirts and some shorts. Y/n then walks to him and stood on her tippy toes and kissed his lips.

"Be safe."

"I will."

"Daddy are you going to bring me back a pretty rock?"

"You know I will." John always did a few laps around a nearby park and always collected the prettiest rocks for Iris, he usually brought back 2 or 3...maybe 4 if he's lucky.

"Bye, I'll be back, soon," he smiles.

"Bye, say bye, Iris."

"Bye, daddy."

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Collars Of Duty 5

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader Chapter 4 - (Chapter 6) Finally reunited again, Simon attacked you as soon as you met. Will this be the breaking point for you or can you work through it and help you both. ~ 8,8k words Content (might contain spoilers): biting, blood, attack, hybrid AU, mentions of torture, medical inaccuracies

A.N: I'm sorry it took so long. I'm pretty slow with updates. I hope you enjoy it. Although I am currently at the I hate it stage but I decided that I should consider it as good enough as it is. Enjoy. Also I suck at spelling so feel free to point out mistakes.

It’s absurd how the seconds stretch until they feel like minutes. The pain is excruciating but you can’t look away from Simon’s face. Your arm feels like it’s on fire, the stinging and burning sensation racing through it until you think you can’t bear it anymore and yet you have the mind to think about it. Instead of instinctively slapping at Simon or kicking him you stare. Is it normal to think this rationally in a moment like this?

It’s like your frozen in time. Neither of you moving, his vicious fangs embedded in your arm. His face is still scrunched up in a threatening display but you catch the flickering hint of fear glinting in his eyes. It makes you want to comfort him and you think you might be stupid, wanting to comfort a hybrid that’s hurting you.

Steps slowly draw closer and when you look to the side you catch sight of Nate’s lower body. He’s carefully, stealthily coming closer. In his hand that’s resting at his side he holds a syringe, thumb ready to empty the liquid into Simon.

It’s most likely filled with a sedative and instinctively you throw your free arm out and over Simon’s neck protectively. He flinches at the sudden movement , driving his teeth deeper into your arm and you wince at the way the movement rips at your flesh. A new wave of pain crashes through you and you can’t hold back a slight groan. Nate steadily creeps closer and Simon’s eyes widen with growing awareness at what’s about to happen.

“No.” You try to command Nate but it comes out like more of a pained wheeze. Still he stops sedative at the ready.

Simon’s eyebrows furrow his eyes flickering between yours, confused. He does not yield his hold on your arm and you breathe deeply through the pain. You wish it would just stop hurting.

“I need to sedate him, he’s dangerous.” Nate says resolutely.

“No!” You manage a bit louder. It might be only a feeling that makes you stop him but if Simon gets sedated right now it will only make things worse. Sure it will save you from this moment but you won’t be able to process it and work through it. It will be just like Phillip. Well maybe not exactly like it since Simon’s isn’t mauling you right now. He’s only nibbling on you. You almost make yourself crack up into hysterical giggles with that thought. His teeth hurt just as much as Phillips did. They’re just as sharp. But they’re not moving.

Forcefully removing Simon from you won’t truly help, you’re sure of it. Simon will freak when he wakes back up and you’ll be left with this memory of him. Attacking you, biting you. Even though his fangs are still sunken into your flesh the old scar in your shoulder throbs and you feel like laughing. Maybe you’re slowly going crazy from the pain. It seems to be everywhere.

Your head hurts where it cracked against the floor but you concentrate on Simon’s shallow breath. The way he holds your arm in his teeth. He’s not actively biting deeper and you consciously relax your body under him. Maybe it’s abnormal the way you assess the situation, thinking it through instead of fighting the large hybrid. But you can’t help but be thankful for it.

“It’s okay, Simon.” You say gently and watch his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. His growling stutters and maybe you imagine it but a hint of a whine builds up in his throat. He’s aware of you. You’re not sure why he hasn’t let go yet, but you’re determined to get this under control. With your current pain level you can still talk and think so maybe there’s a way for you to do this right, to do right by him.

“I know. I should have known better than to rush towards you. I don’t like that either. Forgive me for scaring you.” You continue on just following your instinct. Simon’s face betrays his surprise.

He huffs through his nose and looks at you almost pleadingly. What he’s pleading for, you don’t know. The aggression is gone but the fear in his eyes hurts almost as much as his bite.

“I know. I know. You didn’t mean it.” You’re not even sure what you’re saying but you don’t stop talking to him. His saliva pools on your skin, hot and sticky, or maybe it’s just your blood.

When his breaths get quicker and you decide to be more daring. Speaking helps but it’s not enough. The sight of the large hybrid evidently distressed breaks your heart. He’s growing more distressed by the second.

You need to try something. Anything. Slowly you move the arm that you protectively threw around his neck until you can lower your hand onto the back of his head. Burying your fingers in his hair carefully. It’s just a gentle brush of your fingers through his hair but a sudden wail tears from his chest like you hit him.

Once again it sinks his teeth deeper into your arm and you grit your own teeth against the pain. This has to work. You don’t know what to do if it doesn’t work and the pain is slowly fraying your nerves.

“I know. Shhh. It’s okay. You didn’t mean to, did you? I just spooked you. Nothing bad is going to happen. I won’t let them sedate you. I’m here now, Simon. Like you asked. Like you wanted.”

Once again you card your fingers through his hair, only a whisper of a touch until you reach the base of his left ear. He howls like he’s being ripped apart. Your eyes fill with tears. Maybe you should stop. Are you actually hurting him? But he shouldn’t have a wound on the back of his head. Your touch shouldn’t hurt him.

His eyes are wide and frightful but his jaw slackened lightly. Not hurting him then. Good, you have to continue.

“You can let go, Simon. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe. You’re okay. I won’t even look if you don’t want me to.” The things you say barely make sense but you can’t stop, not when the hold he has on your arm loosens some more until his teeth are merely resting against your bloody skin. You’re not delusional enough to think he won’t bite down again at the sign of any threat so you keep holding still under him.

The base of his ear is unbelievable soft under your fingers as you rub it and he pants harshly against your arm an entire war happening behind his eyes. Another broken whine raises in his throat and you smile up at him. It’s wobbly and not really all that convincing but a smile non the less.

“No one will look at you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. We’re okay. I promise. It’s okay. You can let go. Nothing will happen.”

You swallow down the pain and nerves addressing Nate. “Right? You won’t sedate him. It’s okay. He’s okay.”

You cannot see Nate's face from your position but he shuffles a few steps back, clearing his throat. “Yeah uhm. Sure?”

Simon’s eyes search yours and ever so slowly he widens his jaw, his wet and warm tongue laving over the bite mark once, his breath cool against the wet skin when he whimpers. Some of the tightness in your chest dissipates as the pain lessens just the tiniest bit.

“There you go. You’re doing so well, Simon. You can relax. Will you let me sit up?”

He takes in your expression, scanning your face for something and you patiently wait. Slowly he pulls his head back until your arm is safe from his teeth. Then he closes his mouth warily. You match his pace and as he slowly retreats from over you, you push yourself up, wincing when you put your weight on your arm.

Finally you’re sitting in front of him, cross legged and he watches you for a long moment. He’s subtly shaking and you attempt to smile at him again but all it does it make the tears spill over. Still you push through even if you can’t see his expression properly through the blur. Smiling almost hurts.

“Well done, Simon.”

The sight or the words make something snap and he lunges forward. You violently flinch, throwing your arms up again freezing when you suddenly have a lap full of malinois hybrid. His big arms are wrapped tightly around your middle and his face is pressed into your stomach while he half lays on you, his shaking growing stronger.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He’s shivering so hard your entire body is rocking with it. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Your arms are still raised while he falls apart against you and you lower them slowly until you touch him. One hand presses on his back, which makes him in turn jump and bury his face harder against your stomach. The other hand finds his head again, petting him. He speaks through pained whimpers. “Forgive me. Sorry.”

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor, your arm bleeding freely, soaking his shirt and your pants with your blood but at some point he stops shaking, stops apologizing through whimpers and simply holds onto you quietly. You don’t stop petting him through it all.

Nate is already looking at you when you look up at him. His eyes are wide, stressed and his tongue doesn’t stop tasting the air of the room. Your tears have run dry and your mouth curves up into a real smile.

“You’re insane.” He softly remarks into the quiet of the room but it doesn’t sound like an insult.

You blink at him slowly, protectively tightening your arms around Simon, drawing him in closer. He stiffens at that and then relaxes again. He’s awake, just not speaking anymore.

“Can you bring me something for my wounds?” You ask Nate and he looks at you long and hard in disapproval.

“You should go see a medical professional about it.” He advises and Simon curls more tightly around you his arms pressing him closer until his hold is almost painful. A second later he starts to extract himself from you, like he realizes what he just did but you hold him tight and he goes lax in your lap again.

“I’ll take care of the worst myself. I’ll see someone about it later.”

Nate shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone with him not when…”

“I’m fine. You’ll be quick, right?” You interrupt gently. He nods but seems unconvinced. “Go Nate, or do you want me to lose more blood?” You ask with an almost teasing tone and he shakes his head again but begins moving.

“You’re insane.” He repeats and then he’s gone.

Your back starts cramping from sitting in your position for so long. Tenderly you stoke Simon’s hair. “Hey, big guy. Do you think we can move to the wall? Sitting like this is a little straining.”

He loosens his grip and it’s entirely ridiculous how you two scoot over the floor without changing the position you’re in until your back rests against the wall. You sigh with relief, relaxing some and your back stops screaming. That only making the uncomfortable pulsing of the wound in your arm more prominent.

Thank god that you have all the vaccines for dog hybrid bites. Courtesy of working with them and having been bitten not too long ago. Simon raises his head and you hold your breath. Somehow you expected him to cry but there’s no sign of it on his face. It’s dry and expressionless. He looks at your face, then your arm and slowly sits back up, examining it.

That’s how Nate finds you. He’s wary as he steps closer eying Simon like he’ll attack him any second and extends his hand with the little first aid kit towards you. You take it. Before you go to open it, Simon’s hand covers yours and you recoil like he bit you again, looking at him in shock.

His face is unreadable. “Let me?” He says it like a question and you nod mutely, watching him as his big hands open the kit and he gets started on cleaning the wounds.

Your heart jumps at every touch even though his movements are slow and steady. His big hands are surprisingly gentle as he takes care of the bite mark he put on you with practiced ease. Looking to Nate in bewilderment you catch him with his sight locked on Simon attentively. His tongue darts out every now and then but decidedly less hectic than before.

When he catches your stare he presses his lips together and you notice he’s still holding the syringe. Quietly you look at his face and then pointedly at the sedative and shake your head. He sighs audibly and Simon tenses again, like he’s bracing for something, even though he seems concentrated on wrapping your wounds.

You relax some more when Nate caps the needle. Simon raises your arm inspecting the stark white wrapping and the lets go, scooting back a bit and out of your personal space. Once again you’re locked into a staring match. Nate silently watches you two.

Soon enough the silence gets unbearable, uncomfortable and finally you need to say something, anything or you’ll implode.

“Hi.”

Simon’s expression settles back into a frown. Not in a talking mood it seems. Somehow that makes you grin. It brings you back to when he first woke up in the hospital.

“I just arrived. I wanted to see you as soon as possible and Nate was kind enough to take me to you.”

You give Nate a blinding smile and the snake hybrid shakes his head again. “You’re either insane or a saint.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment. Anyway, Simon, are you ready to move into our rooms with me? We have two rooms next to each other.” You offer and Nate takes half a step forward. Simon tracks the other hybrids movements out of the corners of his eyes.

“Now hold on. That’s nice and all but not happening. At least not today. I have to report the biting. If this was just about your relationship I wouldn’t object but we can’t move Simon into a populated wing if we don’t know for sure he won’t be a danger to everyone.”

 You can’t exactly argue with that, even if you’d like to. It makes sense and you just arrived. Maybe you missed something about Simon’s behavior that could be a threat. Even if you don’t think he is. He is pretty much exactly as you remember him. Although you have to admit to yourself that there’s some lingering fear at being in Simon’s presence, that wasn’t there before. You push it back down.

His attack was maybe a bit extreme but once again not the actions of a savage. If your judgement isn’t completely off, then it was simply an instinctive reaction to feeling threatened.

“Alright, I understand. Then…” You look around the barely furnished room. It reminds you a lot of ‘the cell’ at Rehybrid except it has an actual bed, a desk and chair and a door that leads to what you’d assume is a bathroom. Although the bare furniture is bolted into place as you notice.

“Simon.” You address the hybrid and his ears twitch in your direction. “Would you like me to stay the night here or go back to my room and come back tomorrow?”

You can see Nate open his mouth and level him with a flat stare which makes him promptly snap it shut. Simon cocks his head at you.

“He has a medical examination really early tomorrow, it’s more convenient if you…” Nate starts after all but Simon’s sudden and vicious growl makes him shut up.

You jerk around to look at the malinois hybrid. His expression is all threat again and aimed at Nate, his ears drawn back and fear clogs your throat. Maybe he is more aggressive than you thought. Maybe you’re a stupid softy and shouldn’t trust your judgement too much.

But except for the earlier attack he was relatively docile up to now. And his aggression isn’t aimed at you which makes it easier to judge with a level head.

Something isn’t right. He wouldn’t react like that for no reason.

“As his handler, I’d like to be present for that.” You state and Simon’s head whips back around to you his growl dying down his ears perking back up.

Nate sighs and drags his hands over his face. “Alright.” He glances between you and Simon and his face relaxes. “It’s getting late and I just want to go to bed. I’m getting irritated at all this because I’m so tired so stay or go back to your room but I need to sleep soon or I’ll pass out on you two or get mad and I don’t want that.”

You search his face and suddenly it hits you how obviously exhausted Nate looks. With everything that happened you didn’t pay any close attention to him. Sheepishly you look down and then at Simon again. It’s his call to make so you await his answer.

You two lock eyes for what feels like an eternity and finally you get to hear his rumbled reply.

“Stay.”

You nod your heart suddenly speeding up again but it’s not fear this time and you address Nate. “I’m staying here. Don’t worry about my stuff, I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Just go to bed Nate. I’ll be fine.”

The snake hybrid clearly has more on his mind but he doesn’t voice any of it, studying Simon and you who are still on the ground. A big yawn makes him finally leave for good but not before giving you his number so you can call in case anything happens.

The door clicks shut behind him and you’re alone with Simon.

Well, that was some reunion. You sigh deeply and let your body relax. Now that it’s just you two some of your nervousness returns and you have to remind yourself that Simon apologized for attacking you earlier. He also bandaged your wounds for you and had a breakdown in your lap so the chances of him attacking you to prove something are slim to none.

You’re glad you stopped Nate from sedating him. But even if everything went well in the end it doesn’t mean that your wounds aren’t rubbed raw. Now you try to hold all the ugly feelings that try to resurface down with rationality.

“Will you tell me what the growling was for when Nate mentioned tomorrow? What happened? Why did I get requested?” You find yourself asking. Skirting around the topic isn’t your thing and you need to know if you want a chance to do your job well.

Simon clears his throat and finally you can look him over calmly and actually take note of how his wounds look. The cuts on his face are mostly healed, leaving thin pink scars behind some still have a bit of crusting. You can’t exactly see the other wounds right now but his fingers aren’t in a cast anymore. Now they’re only taped together in a way that prevents him from using them too much and separately from each other.

“I trust you.” Simon says and that simple sentence slams into you like a sledgehammer. It makes you swallow against your tight throat and you blink a few times.

“What happened?” You ask again after collecting yourself and he huffs.

“Nothing.”

You raise one eyebrow unimpressed. “Oh really. Nothing has your hackles raised like that?”

He bares his teeth in frustration, gritting them and the sight has you leaning away from him slightly. He notices and lowers his lips looking at the floor.

“Nothing that warrants a reaction like mine.” He continues and you hum.

When he doesn’t go on further you gently encourage: “Listen Simon. I’m here for you. I came here to help you to be on your team. But if you want me to be able to do that you have to explain things to me so I know how to protect you best.”

He barks an unamused harsh laugh at that and you watch him as he stops and crumbles into himself, quieting down. “I should not need protection. I’m a soldier.”

Slowly, carefully you inch closer to his seated form. “I’m not talking about your strength. You’ve been MIA for months Simon. Whatever happened, you’re allowed to be affected by it. You’re allowed to be hurt and need help. It doesn’t make you weak or any less of a soldier to need help getting back on your feet. But I won’t know how to do that if you don’t speak to me.”

He looks back up and something in his face softens. He nervously licks his lips and begins forcing out words. “I was cuffed for the transport. As soon as I was here they wanted to do a medical exam. I was overwhelmed. I refused. They sedated me. But I was awake, I guess it only sedated my body not my mind. I was unable to move as they poked and prodded me, examined me. No one talked to me.” He shudders.

His explanation is short but it chokes you up and makes you clench your fist in anger at the same time. These fools. Fucking idiots and assholes. You start shaking and Simon looks at you concerned, notices your unshed tears and shakes his head.

“I don’t want your pity.” He almost snarls and if you weren’t so angry you’d flinch but your rage overshadows any other emotion, fills you to your fingertips until you don’t know where to put it anymore.

“I’m not pitying you.” You bite out and then breathe deeply to calm down. No need to raise your voice at him. “I’m angry.”

Simon jerks back, away from you and you quickly go on. “Angry at them! Your reaction is completely justified. I.... fuck I’m so mad I want to punch someone.”

That gets an actual laugh out of Simon and it startles you right out of your angry state. Genuine amusement dances in his light brown eyes and you can’t help but smile back. He has a nice laugh. It’s rough and very him.

“Do you even know how to throw a proper punch?” He teases and you lift your chin in mock offense.

“Of course I do.” You say your head held high. Simon chuckles warmly at that and you can’t help but grin at him. Some of the earlier heaviness finally lifting from the room.

A comfortable quiet settles over you two after that. The amusement lingers for a moment.

“I’m coming with you tomorrow. Just give me a sign if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll make sure they take it slow. I won’t let them touch you without your permission.” You say. It’s a promise.

“I didn’t mean to bite you.” Another hidden apology.

You look down at your neatly wrapped arm. It makes sense for him to be able to do basic first aid but you’re still surprised at how well and quick he did it. You shrug, your hand gently stroking over the bandages.

“I know that now. It’s not like it’s the first time either. I’ve had worse.”

A small growl builds in his chest but this time you manage to keep the fear back. It’s just a reaction to what you said. Not you. “What do you mean you’ve had worse?”

Instinctively your hand comes up to your shoulder pressing against the permanently scarred skin. Somehow that’s the scar you always go for as if it’s the only one Phillip left on you.

“Nothing important. You’re just not the first hybrid who bit me.” You try to keep it vague and you can see his eyes narrow but he doesn’t push. You’re not sure whether you’re relieved or disappointed.

Pointedly you look around the room taking in the little furniture. A small smirk settles on your lips as you look at Simon. “There is only one bed.”

Immediately a louder growl starts up in his chest and your smile vanishes. Okay that is definitely aimed at you and fear sinks it’s claws into your neck. “Hey, hey. I was only teasing. I will sleep on the floor. Don’t worry.”

He swallows down the threatening noise and looks to the side almost like he’s embarrassed by his own reaction. “No. You can have the bed.”

You shake your head and scoff. “Yeah right. I’ll take the bed when you’re the one still healing.”

His eyebrows furrow and you realize that that seems to be the expression he wears most of the time. He licks his lips his ears flickering up and down as if he doesn’t know what to express.

“We could share.” He says it so self assured you wouldn’t think he’s nervous about it if it wasn’t for his ears and his earlier growl.

“Only if you’re comfortable.” Your voice leaves no room for arguments.

He’s quiet for a long time mulling it over, frowning at the bed, and you almost tell him that you’ll sleep on the floor either way. When you open your mouth he grits out: “Don’t touch me.”

His tone is aggressive and not even a real answer but you simply nod. “I won’t. We can build a barrier out of the blanket, that way I can’t accidentally knock into you in the night. But only if you want that. I have no problem with sleeping on the floor.”

He doesn’t answer but he gets up and tugs the blanket off the bed. Silently he waits next to it and you guess that’s your sign to get in and sleep next to the wall. You’re not sure how you feel about the prospect of being caged between Simon’s large form and the wall but that’s probably the reason why Simon won’t slip in first.

You take off your shoes and crawl onto the mattress. The bed is obviously not meant for two so you press as close to the wall as you can. Simon puts one knee on the bed and then proceeds to spread the blanket over you in a surprisingly gentle gesture. Then he piles the rest next to you so it acts as a barrier.

For a moment he just looks at his work, then he grumbles something to himself, turns down the lights and gets in next to you. You note that he doesn’t turn the light off completely but that’s just fine by you. You prefer being able to see him and his intentions.

The quiet is tense but you don’t know what to say anymore so you just lay there staring at the ceiling and wait for sleep to claim you. It doesn’t help that your inner clock thinks it’s early evening.

Finally you can’t keep laying still like that and turn onto your side, craning your neck to look at Simon’s profile over the blanket barrier he build. His eyes are closed but you’re pretty sure he’s not asleep. His chest raises and falls too quickly for that and you watch the rhythm for a moment until it registers that he gave you the blanket.

“I’m not cold. You can have the blanket.” You whisper in case you’re wrong and he is asleep after all.

His eyes open and he keeps them on the ceiling. “Don’t need it. I run hot.”

You nod to yourself and tuck your knees in close so you don’t accidentally brush against him. Head relaxing back against the pillow so you’re left staring at the blanket. It takes forever but finally you do succumb to sleep.

You wake in the middle of the night with a gasp, sitting upright. You’re glad the light is on so you can see everything and your hand finds your painfully throbbing shoulder. It seems to have it’s own heartbeat and it’s beating in tandem with the new bite wound on your arm.

Guilty you look down at Simon’s stretched out form to find his golden eyes already fixed on you. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He shakes his head and continues to watch as you press your hand to your chest and do your breathing exercise to calm back down. You don’t like that he sees you like this. Not when he signed for you to be his handler. You’re supposed to be his rock and have authority. Can he even take you serious when he gets to see you struggle like this?

Nothing on his face gives away what he thinks as you slowly find back to your own body. You check the barrier between you two and find it intact. You can’t help the sigh of relief that you let out at that and you catch the slightest movement of Simon’s ears.

Happy to escape his scrutinizing gaze you lay back down and once again you’re left staring at the blankets. How you wish you could reach out and touch him, reassure yourself and him but he asked you not to so you tuck your hands in close to your chest and close your eyes.

Movement of the fabric has you opening them again. You turn your head and see Simon peek over the barrier. He offers no comment but carefully arranges the blanket back over your body. In your panicked state you had thrown it off you. Again without so much as brushing his fingers against you. Once he’s satisfied that you’re covered properly he lays back down and you find yourself snuggling more into the blanket, pressing just the tiniest bit closer to the barrier. If you concentrate enough you can imagine that his warmth seeps through the thick fabric and settles around you.

You wake in the morning to a strange pressure against your front. It’s comforting but confusing because the blanket barrier shouldn’t be this unyielding. Your open eyes and don’t see anything besides the pristine white of the cover for a moment until your realize that you can see Simon’s shoulder rise and fall mere centimeters from you.

Now you’re wide awake, your breath hitching. The blanket is still firmly in place between the two of you and no part of you touches but Simon is curled up on his side too, pressed against the blanket just like you and although it separates you two you can feel his chest rising and falling against it. You can feel his legs against yours through it and for a second you think about getting up and putting as much distance between you and his sleeping form as possible.

A moment later you almost laugh at yourself while heat spreads through your cheeks. You crane your neck trying to see if Simon’s head peeks over the top of the barrier. It does.

Your eyes lock and you exhale on a rush. He’s awake.

Neither of you move and you can hear you blood rushing in your ears at his proximity. You’re sure if it weren’t for the thick cover between you you’d die of a heart attack. How his closeness can be stifling and comforting at once is a mystery to you but you don’t move either. Maybe it’s because you’re frozen in fear.

But the beat of your heart doesn’t spell out fear.

“Good morning.” You whisper. Instead of an answer the pressure against your front increases for a moment, then he rolls away from you and sits up, rubbing his palms over his tired face.

You find yourself doing the same and checking the time. It’s ridiculous how early you woke up but Simon’s already on his feet, tension in the harsh lines of his body and stretches for a moment his ears pressing flat against his head at his big yawn and you can’t help but smile. Definitely cute despite his size.

He catches your expression and seems confused. Instead of offering an explanation you fondly shake your head and get up too. Both of you silently wash up in the bathroom. It’s comfortable and you find only the faintest traces of yesterdays fear left in you. Somehow Simon manages to put you at ease, despite his attack.

It’s not long before Nate appears. He opens the door slowly and peeks inside. Once he sees you the relief is visible on his face and he steps in fully.

“Thank god, I was worried I’d find you in shreds.”

The way he says it so earnestly makes you giggle and Simon’s almost always present frown deepens. “It’s time for Simon to go to the doctor’s.”

Simon’s entire demeanor changes and he backs up against a corner. His lips peel back and Nate’s expression turns sad.

He opens the door wider and two more men step in. Apparently they also work at the center. One holds a muzzle the other one a collar and a leash and Nate once again has a sedative in hand. Your eyes widen and you step in front of Simon, very aware of him snarling behind you. Putting yourself between him and the men is probably stupid especially since you can’t see what he’ll do next but you can’t have them adding to his stress.

You raise your hands placatingly. “Gentlemen, please. This is hardly necessary.”

One of the guys scoffs. “Tell that to him. He’s not allowed out of this room without leash and muzzle but he won’t put it on. There is no other way. I sure as hell won’t suffer another attack from him. And we don’t have the time for discussions.”

Now it’s your turn to frown almost scowling at them. “Surely you can spare a few more minutes if it’s for the sake of one of the hybrids who’s supposed to heal here?” You say, some venom seeping into your tone.

You’re aware that you’re new here and hardly endearing yourself to your presumed co-workers but you’re here for Simon. Not for them. They roll their eyes but stay back and you mull over your options.

“Leave the leash and muzzle here and out. All of you.” You say in a commanding voice that you’re pretty sure you have no right to wield. Yet they listen and you catch Nate taste the air and nod at you a slight smile on his lips.

When the door closes you turn on your heels and meet Simon’s angry expression.

“You don’t want the leash and muzzle?” You question, voice soft once again.

He shakes his head his canines still exposed and you remember how they ripped at your flesh. The phantom pain shoots through your entire body this time and you square your shoulders. It’s time to be his handler. You don’t have the luxury of wallowing in self pity.

“I’m afraid there is no way around it at this point in time.” He straightens up further and his growl redoubles.

You raise your hands. “Simon listen to me.” He’s staring through you, he’s probably not really listening, trapped somewhere in his racing thoughts so you raise your voice slightly. “Simon!”

He starts, his ears coming forward for a moment before he goes back to his aggressive stance.

“I do not want them to hurt you. But I need you to let the doctor check up on you. I promise I will not let anything bad happen. I promise I will protect you. But if you want anything to go differently than before you’ll have to take the muzzle and leash.” You explain. You hate that there is no other way. You just arrived, you have no idea how necessary the check up is and you can’t refuse on his behalf when you don’t know whether he’s healed enough.

He considers you, hatred in his eyes and you try not to let it burn you. It’s such a heavy contrast to the way he looked at you earlier when he peeked at your over the cover. It’s such a difference to when you’re alone in a safe little bubble you two get to design by yourselves.

You exhale heavily and take the leash and muzzle in hand before turning back to Simon. He eyes the two devices like they’re meant to torture him.

You hold up the muzzle, showing it to him and he physically steps back. Instead of going after him, you open the muzzle at the back. “Look. This is how you get it open. It’s designed so you can take it off yourself. No one can force you to keep it on. It’s meant as a helpful device to keep you from hurting others in a stressful moment because often the biting happens on instinct and hybrids regret it afterwards.”

His eyes flicker down to your bandaged arm and then fixate back on the muzzle.

“I won’t even need to touch you to put it on. You can do it yourself.” You continue in the softest voice you can muster. Then you show him the leash. He doesn’t retreat further but the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

You show him how the collar can be opened and closed. “You can also put this on yourself. I will not let anyone else hold the leash.”

It’s kind of pointless, you know he doesn’t want you to hold the leash just as much as he doesn’t want the men in front of the door to hold it. But at least you’ll hold it softly.

You hold the leather leash up. “I will not yank on it or choke you with it. I will only hold it so we’re connected and I can keep you from getting hurt. I will lead you with a gentle hand and never towards harm.”

Silence falls over the room and you realize that he stopped growling during your explanation. You said what you could, now it is up to him. You can feel your pulse thrum in your neck a silent plea. Please trust me. Let me lead you. Let me show you it can be different than what you experienced so far.

You offer it all to him in your outstretched hands and wait. There is nothing else you can do besides ask him to comply. Sure you’re the authority but only if Simon wants you to be. You hope he remembers that he signed the handler-hybrid papers first. You hope he remembers that he said he trusts you.

His legs carry him towards you and your breath hitches. There’s sweat on his forehead and you stay still as a statue while he takes the muzzle. Carefully he opens and closes the latch a few times, making sure it’s easy to operate. Then he slips it over his face locks and unlocks it at least five more times before he fastens it. His chest heaves with harsh pants as he takes the leash from your hands next and you lower them slowly so you don’t spook him.

Once again he tests the buckle and then fastens the collar around his neck. You notice that he left plenty of room which is technically not how he’s supposed to wear it but you decide not to address it.

His eyes find you but they’re slightly unfocused and you speak to him again. “Well done, Simon. Thank you.”

He jerks back at your words his eyes wide and his panting stops. You’re not sure whether it’s the praise or the fact you expressed gratitude but you leave it at that.

Slowly you hold out your hand, waiting for him to place the leash in your hold instead of taking it up yourself. It looks comically thin in his large palm as he grabs the end and clenches his fist around it. Patiently you wait giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile.

Tensing up even more he places the end in your hand and plants his feet as if he expects you to jerk him forward. Loosely you curl your own fist around the leather and let your arm rest relaxed against your side. The grin you gift him with feels silly with how bright it is but you’re incredibly proud of the big hybrid.

“Follow me.” You softly command testing how he’ll react to you expecting him to follow your words without making it a request. To your surprise he easily falls into step, walking towards the door and waits patiently when you open it.

You stay in front of him and address the men in the corridor who stare at the both of you like you suddenly grew multiple heads. “Do not touch him and stay in front of us, leading the way.”

Nate recovers first, grinning widely and in his slightly reptilian face it looks almost evil. “I knew it.” He hisses delighted and turns to lead the way, the two other guys following behind not even arguing with you at this point.

Simon walks behind you and you turn to him without halting your footsteps. “Come here. Next to me.”

His long legs eat the distance and he walks along beside you, the leash hanging loosely between you. Simon’s face is set into a frown and there’s still sweat beading at his hairline but his breathing is at a frequency that doesn’t worry you and you hum in satisfaction. The ear closest to you swivels towards the sound for a second.

It doesn’t take long until you’re in the doctors office and it makes you feel slightly ridiculous that you have two grown men in addition to Nate accompany you. The doctor gapes at you and Simon, eyes comically wide while looking between you two and the way the large hybrid follows your lead.

She stands up gives you a curt hello and snaps on latex gloves. “Let’s get this over with.”

You frown at her tone and as soon as she stands up Simon starts growling, like a ferocious beast, backing up a bit. The doctor sighs and nods at the men who accompanied you. “Sedate him.”

You straighten up. “Don’t!” You command. The men look between you and the doctor unsure who to listen to. Narrowing you eyes you take a small step in front of Simon. “There is no need to sedate him.”

She clicks her tongue at you and rests her weight on one leg, pushing out her hip. “You’re his new handler? You arrived when? Yesterday? I know how to treat my patients now step aside and let us do our damn job.”

Her tone almost makes you want to cower, not one for confrontation, but you remind yourself why you’re here. “I do not mean to disrespect but I brought him here of his own free will without any need for sedation so I’d really appreciate it if we could work together to make sure my charge is comfortable during the examination.”

She almost scoffs at you and takes a step closer, Simon flinches and you hold out your hand, stopping her from taking another step. Way to go. It’s your first day and you’re already pissing of personnel you’re supposed to work with. But you cannot let it slide, not with the way Simon reacts. After what he told you, you’re certain that there is a reason for it.

“You’re the one who isn’t working with me. So step aside and let me do my job. A job you know nothing about.” Her tone is sharp, biting and it makes your hand itch to slap the arrogance out of her.

You square your shoulders and gather all the leftover confidence you can find in your body. “No. Not when my charge is uncomfortable. Are there any other doctors at this center or do we have to find one who doesn’t work here?” You calmly answer and her mouth drops open.

Something flashes in her eyes and before she can respond Nate steps forward placatingly lifting his hands. “Hey now. It’s a perfectly reasonable and normal request. Yes there are other doctors. We’ll ask for someone else.”

The Doctor grits her teeth in displeasure but doesn’t argue against Nate and you raise your brows. Interesting. Nate seems to be in a position of authority. Breed wise he’d be supposed to be a companion hybrid. But he evidently works here and holds a higher position than some humans.

His hand finds your shoulder and squeezes briefly. Then he escorts the doctor out of the room, telling you he’ll be back soon with someone else.

The door closes behind the two of them and you’re left with Simon and the other two guys. You exhale heavily, your shoulders dropping and turn to Simon. His shirt is soaked with sweat on his chest but now that the doctor left he seems to slowly come back to himself.

Honey coloured eyes regard you as you ask him if he’s okay. The nod is slow but enough to reassure you and you don’t have to wait for long until the door opens again and Nate steps in with a middle-aged man. His hair is black and brushed back, some stray grays at his temples but his face is so kind it immediately puts you at ease.

“Welcome. You must be his new handler. I’m glad you could make it. Please take a seat. I’m Doctor Graham.”

You stay on your feet but give him a friendly smile and a nod. Mentally you pat your back for standing your ground because Simon’s staying quiet, seemingly not as stressed by him. “Yes. I’m happy I can be here. What’s the plan for today's exam?”

At that word Simon shifts on his feet. You wish you could put a reassuring hand on his shoulder but he doesn’t want you to touch him, so you don’t.

“I need to check his wounds for inflammation and their status of healing.”

You nod and the doctor gestures at the examination table. You look at Simon and try to seem as reassuring as possible. “Go on, sit down.”

It surprises you anew when he listens and parks himself on the table. The doctor blinks owlishly at the scene and something akin to gratification spreads in your chest. Look at this, look at what a well behaved hybrid he is and look how wrong you all judged him, you think grimly.

“Please take your shirt off, Simon.” The doc asks and to your surprise Simon looks at you his head slightly tilted.

The weight of his questioning gaze almost makes you crumble to your knees. It’s like he’s testing you. You think back to the hospital. How distressed showing skin made him and you look at Nate and the other two men in the room.

“Doctor Graham, I apologize for the trouble but could you be so kind as to send our audience away. I do not think it is necessary to let them witness the examination.”

The Doc startles in surprise looks around the room and then does as you say. Finally it’s just the three of you and you nod at Simon. “Can you take it off?”

He swallows audibly and slowly his hands go to the hem of his shirt. The hesitation makes you nervous and you wish you could prevent him from having to do this. Before he begins undressing you turn to the Doctor again.

“I’m sorry but is there another way we can do this? I’d like to keep him from harm. Is there a way for this to work without us watching him?” You pray the doctor won’t brush you off. Hopefully your continuous questions and wishes don’t annoy him.

He smiles, crow feet growing more prominent around his eyes and he thinks. Simon’s frozen with his hands on his shirt. It doesn’t look like you’re making an enemy here so you continue.

“If the wounds have been okay up to now maybe he could check them following your instructions without us watching and he can tell you what you need to know?”

Both the Doctor and Simon’s gaze weigh on you and you wish you could shrivel up and disappear but you promised Simon to protect him and you intend to follow through with it.

Doctor Graham looks over a file, scanning the information. You hold your breath and then the older man nods slowly. “Yes, that could work. But he’d have to speak to me for that.”

“Simon?”

His nostrils flare and he nods. “Yes.”

Once again the doctors blanks, then he seems to remember where he is and turns around with his chair. You step closer to Simon and let go of the leash. “I’ll be right here. Just do as the Doc says. No one will look at you.” You quietly instruct well aware that the Doctor can hear you anyway in the dead silent room.

You turn around and the sound of fabric rustling makes you clench your fist. You watch the doctor look at a chart. “Do you have any wounds that feel tender or hot?”

“No.”

He nods and writes something down then he proceeds to lead Simon through the process of checking every wound even instructing him how to check his ribs and fingers. Somehow they manage with Simon’s one word answers and you find yourself slowly relaxing.

Doctor Graham is professional but warm and it makes you feel like crying. It’s absurd how kindness makes your eyes wet but the female doctors harshness didn’t. Once Simon is dressed again you turn back around and give him an approving nod.

Doctor Graham looks up. “I need to rewrap your fingers, Simon.” He calmly states. You expect Simon to grow agitated but he simply nods, holding out his fingers.

The process makes him flinch whenever the doctor touches him but it barely takes a minute until it’s done. Expectantly you hold out the hand for Simon’s leash again and he drops the end into your palm so you can grab it again. You wait for the Doctors dismissal, instead he kindly smiles at you and points at the examination table.

“Your turn. Let me take a look at your arm.”

Bewildered you look at your neatly wrapped arm, having completely forgotten about it. Something about that makes you laugh quietly and you let go of Simon’s leash again. The big hybrid parks himself against a wall and watches as the Doctor unwraps your arm.

The bite looks angry, the wounds deceptively small but the skin and flesh are black and blue, bruised all over and tender to the touch. You can feel Simon’s eyes on the wound like a physical touch while the practiced hands of the doctor check the wound, put some ointment on it and rewrap it.

It’s honestly not surprising when he tells you that your bones probably took some damage too, although not enough to break and that you should take it easy on that arm for a while.

Finally you’re all done and Simon comes up to you, handing you the leash. Before you go, you address the Doctor once more. “Thank you so much for being so accommodating, doctor. And I’m sorry if I caused any trouble by asking for you.” You don’t know how to explain further without going on a tangent but his lips quirk up and he nods.

“It’s not a problem. We’re here to help. And please, just call me Graham without the doctor. We’re coworkers now.” His hand is warm as it engulfs yours when you say goodbye.

Nate is still waiting outside and before you know it you’re back in Simon’s little room. You let go of the leash and beam up at him. “You did so well Simon. I’m really proud of you.”

Before you can add anything he’s already ripped the muzzle off his head and unbuckled the collar letting it all drop to the floor. He takes a few steps back and shudders. You watch him concerned but he seems to calm down soon enough and once Nate deems it safe he turns to you.

“The handler management wants to talk to you. I reported the attack and initially they wanted to keep him locked up here but I took the liberties of telling them about this morning too and they want to talk to you before making their decision. We can’t keep him here forever and expect him to make any progress.”

[channiesunshinx]

Heyy! I wasn't sure if you're doing request or not so feel free to ignore this!

Could you do a Minho x reader with a miscommunixation trope. Angst with a happy ending maybe?

It could be Minho speaking to others in Korean but R only knows a bit of Korean and misheard it as something else and gets upset.

Sry if this a bit long! But I absolutely adore your work!

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

Pairing: Minho x F!reader Genre: Romance, drama, slice of life, miscommunication Warning: Language barrier, miscommunication

Minho and the other members were sitting around in their dorm, chatting and joking after a long day of practice. Y/N, Minho's girlfriend, had recently started learning Korean, and although her skills were improving, she still found it hard to catch every word. She was sitting on the couch, trying to follow the conversation, occasionally glancing at Minho, her boyfriend, hoping he'd translate for her.

As Minho spoke with the members, the conversation turned to something funny that had happened earlier at the practice studio.

“그럼, 그때 내가 그만큼 미쳤다는 걸 못 믿겠어.”

(“I can't believe I was that crazy at that time.”)

“맞아! 진짜 미친 거 같았어.”

(“Yeah! You really seemed crazy.”)

Y/N looked up, trying to piece together what they were saying. But then, Minho said something that made her stop cold, her heart sinking.

“근데 사실, 이 관계는 그냥 장난인 거 같아.”

(“But honestly, I think this relationship is just a joke.”)

She froze, staring at him, her mind racing. Did he just say that? Her face went pale. Her stomach twisted. Just a joke? She couldn't believe what she'd heard. Minho had always been so loving and kind to her—how could he say something like that?

Minho, oblivious to her distress, continued talking and laughing with the members. Y/N stood up quietly, trying to hold back the tears, and walked out of the living room, heading toward the balcony. She needed some space to think.

Felix, who had been listening closely, noticed the change in the atmosphere. He saw Y/N leave in a hurry, her face downcast. He exchanged a quick look with Minho before walking over to her.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes already glossy. “Minho… he... he said it was just a joke,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “He doesn't really care about me, does he?”

Felix frowned, his heart aching for her. “What did he say?”

“He said our relationship was just a joke...” she repeated, tears spilling over. “Am I just a joke to him? I thought he loved me.”

Felix quickly realized what had happened. “Oh, that's not what he meant!” He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension. “He was talking about something completely different, Y/N.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, confused. “What? But... I heard him say that it was just a joke. I don't understand.”

Felix smiled, shaking his head. “It was just a joke.” He paused, thinking carefully. “He said it was crazy, but he wasn't talking about your relationship. It's just... the story from practice. He wasn't talking about you at all.”

Y/N blinked, still not completely convinced. Felix could see she was struggling to understand.

“Let me go get Minho,” he offered.

Minho entered the balcony area moments later, his expression concerned when he saw Y/N sitting there, looking distressed. He stepped toward her, reaching out slowly.

“Y/N, what's wrong? Why do you look so sad?”

Y/N hesitated, her voice trembling. “You... you said it was just a joke. Is that how you feel about our relationship?”

Minho’s face fell as he quickly realized what had happened. ““No, that's not it! What are you talking about?”

Felix, still standing nearby, smiled gently. "Y/N, he was talking about something from practice. It was just a joke.”

Minho nodded, his eyes wide. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know you heard it like that.”

Y/N blinked in confusion, her heart pounding. “So... you weren't saying that you don't care about me? That I'm just a joke to you?”

Minho took a deep breath, his eyes filled with regret. He sat down next to her, taking her hand gently. “No, I never meant that. You're the most important person to me. I'm taking our relationship seriously.”

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. She let out a shaky laugh, still a little overwhelmed. “I... I just misunderstood. I'm sorry for freaking out.”

Minho chuckled softly, wiping away a tear from her cheek. “It's my fault. I should have been more careful.”

Felix gave them both a playful look and then backed away, allowing them some privacy. “Alright, I'll leave you two to sort it out. Be happy!”

Minho and Y/N shared a quiet moment together, and Minho pulled her closer. “I promise, I'll be more careful with my words. I never want to hurt you.”

Y/N smiled softly, her heart at ease now. “I know... I know you wouldn’t. I just... I don't always understand everything, but I'm trying.”

Minho smiled, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I love you. And I'll be right here, teaching you, helping you... forever.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, her worries melting away.

[frogsinflannel]

call me by my real name (call me baby) 9-1-1: bucktommy | rated T | 874 words | prompt: non-sexual intimacy

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary - read below or at ao3

♡ ♡ ♡

"Hey.  Can I ask a favor?"  Buck looked up from where he'd been meal-prepping, two neat lines of clear glass containers sitting on the counter in front of him.  Tommy's brows raised and a bemused smile curled up his mouth.  "You doing lunch for us?  What's on the menu this week?"

"Rainbow salad," Buck said, beaming.  He pointed to the piles of chopped vegetables scattered on the two cutting boards.  "We've got, uh, bell pepper for red and yellow. Carrots.  Cucumbers, because I thought, uh, three colors of bell pepper was too much.  Or edamame, for green.  I probably have some other options, too, if you want something else.  And then we've got some riced purple cauliflower, and some strips of grilled chicken."

"Evan."  Buck flushed.  No one else said his name like that, with the same loose-weave softness, cool and easy and comfortable.  Tommy grinned and walked over to him.  He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.  "Thank you, baby," he said, speaking against the skin.

His voice was warm and his mouth was a little damp and Buck's vibrating, wanting-- Well.  Just wanting.  Anything from Tommy he could get.  "You're welcome," he breathed.

"So."  Tommy leans against the counter, feet crossed at the ankle.  He holds up the wrist with the brace on it.  "About that favor?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course.  What did you need?"

Tommy grimaced and then gestured with his left hand to the bottom half of his face.  "I could probably shave myself even with the brace," he said.  "But I thought maybe I'd ask you to do it."  His expression changed, smile sly and his eyes dark, and Buck felt a little curl of heat in his gut.  "I'm sure you wouldn't mind getting all close and personal, huh?  Lathering me up.  Bet you have a steady hand."  Tommy tilted his head because he's a tease and a flirt - and kind of an asshole, too, because he knew what he's doing to Buck.  Which might be a bad thing, if Buck didn't like it so goddamn much.

"I can...  Uh, I can help, yeah."  He swallowed.  "Of course."

Tommy grinned and bumped his shoulder with his good hand.  "Perfect.  Let's get these lunches put together and then get rid of this shitty almost-beard."

They finished the meal-prep for the week and then Buck followed Tommy into the bathroom.  He pulled out a nice safety razor and some moisturizing shaving cream, then leant back against the skin.  "I'm all yours," he murmured.

"S-so I should..."  Tommy's posture was relaxed, his whole big body so at ease.  He tilted his chin up and Buck sketched out the strong, lovely line of his throat.  His mouth went dry.  "The shaving cream?"

Tommy's eyes closed and his mouth curved up warm and crooked and fond.  "Yes," he said.  "You should the shaving cream."

"Don't tease me," Buck said, but he didn't really mean it.  He grabbed the shaving cream and squeezed out a dollop into his hand.  Tommy's waiting, and it seemed silly to ask for permission, so.  He reached out and spread it smoothly over Tommy's skin.

"Ahh," Tommy said.  His lips parted and Buck's gaze was drawn to the line of his open mouth.  "Thank you, baby.  That feels nice."

Buck cleared his throat. It was almost harder to talk to Tommy like this, with his eyes gently closed and the line of his neck long and bare. “Well?” Tommy’s eyes fluttered under thin lids and he wore a smirk, teasing and still so, so fond. “Am I getting shaved or aren’t I?” “Sorry,” Buck said. “I was just… uh. Just thinking?” “Mmm.” Buck’s hand tightened in the razor and his body swayed forward, leaning into Tommy’s. He was pulled, constantly, like a magnetic in his chest with Tommy as the opposite pole. How did he yearn so much for something, he wondered - something right here. Something he already had. One eye popped open. “Thinking about what?”

“Ha.” He looked down, let out a breath. “It’s… Well. I-I like it. That’s what I was thinking. I like it when you say, uh. When you call me baby.” Tommy’s smirk shifted into something softer.  One big hand landed on Buck’s waist and then slid to the small of his back, tugging him forward. “Yeah? You like it?” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth. Then he leaned closer, nuzzling into the soft skin under Buck’s ear. “Good. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?” His voice was whisper soft, a warmth ghosting across Buck’s neck. “Tell me, Evan. Tell me what you are.” He groaned, one hand gripping Tommy’s bicep as the other came up to cup the back of his head. His head tilted back and his got one glimpse of the soft yellow light of his bathroom ceiling as his eyes drifted closed. Tommy’s mouth pressed kisses onto him like promises, moving across his throat from one side to the other. He’d remember. He’d wear it like a necklace, the jeweled presses of Tommy’s rough, perfect mouth. “I am,” he said, voice tight. It hurt to speak, the words were so heavy. It felt like a relief to finally get them out. “I’m your baby.”

♡ ♡ ♡

(I wrote half of this in present tense before I realized that I'd started in past. I think I got it all fixed and consistent !!! Also I think Buck would have a dressing or sauce for their rainbow salads but I forget to mention it! It haunts me!)

[lov3darlings]

darlings thoughts, figureskater!reader (18+)

cw: slight angst, bashing other skater lol, multiple orgasms, crying, mean!lando

lando sighed as he puts away the guy equipment. "mate you good?" his trainer, jon asked. "yeah, just a lil tired. let's continue this tomorrow," lando says getting up and wrapping up the gym session. lately, you and him were getting into arguments about you not spending enough time with him. "lando, the olympics are so near i cannot slack off, like at all," you yelled at him earlier the week. and since then the entire house was silent. both of you giving each other silent treatment. unable to understand another.

he drove to your rink. you mentioned something about having practice with another male skater because you both were selected to do some gala show together. the said male skater was recently blowing up for his numerous attempts to keep up with you in terms of jumping quads. but obviously lacked the skating skills as you do.

"it's pure bullshit! i am sick of this. you can't even hold the edge for lutz." lando hears you yell. your coaches declare a small break. your fellow skater leaves the rink, "to get freash air," he said, taking the coaches with him. you lean against the boards, body hot from sweat and anger. lando does the same, from the other side of the board. "what happened to my good girl? yelling at everyone now are we huh?" he humms.

your head shots up at his voice. "baby," your immediately filling up with tears. lando moves to hug you over the boards. "i'm so sorry," you sniffled as he rubs your back. you squealed when he lifted you over the boards. "you don’t understand how angry i am right now," he says as you mumble a string of apologise in his ear. standing on your tip toe to reach his height, despite still being in your skates.

"how about sucking me off as an apology," he hums. lando lets out a chuckle as your hands reach the waistband of his pants. "darling we're at your ice rink," he says. "do you want them to hear you being such a slut?" he added, pulling you into a hug. them, in question being your male partner and your coaches. "i dont care who’s outside," you reply as the older man held you in his embrace

lando pulls you into a kiss, his hands caressing your neck as he kisses you. it wasn't a gentle kiss. it was rough, as if he was desperate for it. he kissed you like a parched man, as if your lips was the water he needed. he pulled away as the burning sensation in his lungs grew, saliva still connected to your lips. "i want to make a mess of you," he says, breathing heavily. his fingers running through your hair strands, pulling onto a few of them.

"he's terrible. can't even hold a deep fucking edge on a lutz," you complain making the man chuckle. "yeah i heard you. don't you worry you'll be twice loud when moaning my name."

lando was man true to his words. he did made a mess of you when he had you at his mercy on his bed. moaning his name, like it was some holy mantra, twice as loud you were yelling.

he placed his lips on yours. heated kisses, his hands on your bare skin, yours in his curly hair, lips nibbling, biting, moaning into his mouth. it was one of those kisses that left you heavily breathing after.

"where do you need the most huh baby?" he teased, despite know the answer very well.  you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and guiding him to where you desperately need him, your cunt. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby," he says.

lando smirked as he maintained eye contact while he gathered the wetness from between your legs with his fingers and sucked it off a little with a satisfied hum. he bought his fingers to your lips "clean my fingers, this is your mess," he commanded.

lando moves down between your thighs. he lazily licked at your sweet slit as he nosed at your clit. your hands gripping on his curls. he groaned a little at the soft touch. his tongue moving in circles as you pushed yourself closer to his face, practically begging him for more.

which was exactly what he was giving you. pushing two finger inside you. his lips and tongue slurping, sucking, and licking at your clit. you eyes rolled back as he pulled, what? thrid orgasm from you. lando makes sure to lick you clean. "fuck, sweetheart," he groans, smearing your cum all over his lips, breathing heavy, and lean up to kiss you with it.

"suck on it." he commands, leaving you suck whatever was left on his fingers. "good girl," he praised. lando doesn't give you another moment to ride down your high as he inserts his cock in your cunt. "lando wait—" you whined. "take it like a good girl and stop whining," he barks.

lando didn't move. instead he started kissing down every inch of your body he possibly can, murmuring against your skin how beautiful you are, showing how much he loves you. but it wasn't the time. you were far to needy for the man. "if you want something, you have to use your words," he mummrs.

"baby please, please, please, please fuck me, please," you whined. and that's all it take to get lando started, after all how can he ignore such a pretty angel who was warming his cock and begging for it. he rocked his hips in you with such pace that you saw stars, groaning and cursing in your ear.

your nails started scracthed his back again. lando hissed as you accidentally drew blood. he held your both wrists with his one hand. arms over your head, mouth gaping while he groaned, pressing and thrusting himself up into you. "just, like that, oh.. god," you mumble.

something that lando knew about you was that you often teared up as you reached your fourth orgasm. "gonna cry? go ahead cry f'me baby. let me see it," he said as the tear works starts flowing. he knew that you were sobbing not because it hurt. but because his cock was kissing the softest parts of you.

lando laughed at you as more tear drop fell. he actually fucking laughed. the sound had you squeezing his cock harder, and lando only laughed harder, his laugh mocking you. "tu, tu, tu, such a cry baby," he says wiping your tears. feeling cocky that he made such mess of you.

"oh—fuckfuck—lando," you gasped as you came around his cock. "oh my god—lan! it's too much!" you babbled, but lando only jutted his bottom lip out in a mocking pout. he loved you, truly he did, but there was a thrill he got from seeing you cry. cheeks puffy and wet with your trembling, parted lips. it was his favourite sight. "so pretty when you cry," he groaned as he finished in you. using his fingers to stuff his cum back in you.

"come 're," he says pulling you in his embrace, falling next to you. his fingers traveled down to your swollen cunt. "lan—too sensitive," you curled up to him as he fingers you at a tortures slow pace. "you've been too good for me tonight darling, just a lil more," he whispers.

"oh gosh," you sobbed on his chest as you feel your orgasm take over you. lando inserted another finger in you making you latch onto him tighter. "so pretty, so obedient," he praised. "that's it, there we go," he says as you cum all over his fingers again. lando pulled out his fingers from you with a faint pop. sucking on your cum that coated his fingers.

he then kissed you making you taste yourself on his lips. "so pretty for me," he muttered placing a soft kiss on your forehead. lando looked down at you, "i love you," he whispered. you smiled, feeling butterflies for the man next to you. "i love you too," you pecked his lips making him smile.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

WIP well I'm late for everything...

discovered today that it had been nearly two months since I took part in a wip wednesday and its been a little while since a wip music post and I have been tagged most recently by :

@ellswips @neonshrike @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat

@simplegenius042 and @g0dspeeed for either one or the other thank you so much you wonderful people <3

WIP Song:

this is just very much a Rory vibe when it comes to the ship

and for the fic wip, here's a little domestic fluff/banter with Rory and Price. It's not something I generally get to write for them and I've had the hankering to write some of the civilian moments for them. This will be a little aside at the start of chapter 11 before the angst hits:

On a particularly wet Sunday, mid-morning in late September, they stood in the paint aisle of the local hardware store surrounded by an array of sample chips in every shade and tone imaginable, and somehow Rory had managed to bypass them all, gravitating to one bleak little corner. 

“Fucking hell, love,” John gruffs, arms crossed over his chest in his favorite sheepskin lined denim jacket, beanie tucked over his ears, looking down his nose at the paint chips she holds in her hands like a fan. “That’s three different versions of white.” 

“Shut up,” she laughs and shakes her head, the damp ends dripping down the back of her neck. “They’re lace, linen, and cream.”

He meets her giggle with a straight face and a lifted brow. “They’re bloody white. Need your ‘ead checked if you think there’s some sort o’ difference between these and the color of the ‘landlord white’ walls back at the flat, my girl.” Arm curling around her back, his wide, warm hand drifts down to rest on the back pocket of her jeans furthest from him. Giving her hip a squeeze, he presses her tight against his side and his thumb starts to rub circles into her as he shifts his weight on his feet. 

The umbrella she carries drips a steady stream of rainwater onto the linoleum floor, a small puddle forming at the blunt plastic tip. One to join the many others dotted throughout the shop, blockaded by yellow ‘Caution: floor slippery when wet’ signs as the sound of a mop being dragged in the same constrained fashion as Pac-man joined in with the quiet chorus of The Verve’s Bitter Sweet Symphony.

“Oh, I am sorry I wasn’t looking for something garish in the room where guests do their business. Pardon me.” Her words are lathered in sarcasm as she animatedly waves the cards in her hand. 

“Didn’t say garish, did I?” Giving her a dangerous glance from under his brow, he reaches out and grabs the first card from the wall that takes his fancy. “What about this one?”

Her brow cocks at the sight and her lips curl into a little sneer, one that makes her nose scrunch up with distaste. “Forest green? In a toilet?” she asks skeptically. “Love, it’s a small space. You don’t put dark colors in there, it’ll only make it feel smaller.”

“It’s a bloody cloakroom, Ror,” he grumbled, his mouth scrunching up under the bristles of his mustache. “It’s not supposed to feel like the Ritz-Carlton, it’s where someone takes a piss and moves on.”

Rolling her eyes, she takes the card from his hand decidedly and tucks it back into the sleeve on the wall. “It’s too dark. I told you to just leave this with me.”

Truth be told, she was used to making the decisions to the design of the townhouse. It had been her home before John had arrived on the scene, her first purchase after she turned twenty-one and her trust fund that included the money from the sale of her mother’s house in Canada was finally available to her. She had paid for all of the renovations herself, picked out the furniture and lighting. That home was her baby and it was hard not to be the one to have final approval on all the changes, it was like letting a little piece of herself go, handing over more control to her dear Captain.

“And I told you I wanted to make some decisions around the place,” he says, tugging her into him a little tighter. “Still feel like a guest in our ‘ome sometimes.”

“Oh piss off, now you’re just taking the mickey.”

“Am not.” Shoving his hand into the pocket of his coat, he jutted out his square jaw, and stretched out his lower back.

Placing her hand on his chest, she uses the other to sweep across the wall of samples like she’s Vanna White. “Fine, if choosing the toilet color is of such great import to you, go ahead. You have my blessing to freely choose.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at her, leaning back slightly to keep her in his full view. “This is a test.”

The quiet chuckle that bubbled out of her was one she could hardly contain, looking taken aback by his sudden wariness of the task. “Classic coming from you of all people.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I am not dignifying that question with an answer.” She juts an accusing finger up at him, and pokes the underside of his chin. “You know damn well.”

Grumbling in response, he reaches out and grabs another sample card to try and change the subject. “And this one?”

“You want lavender?”

“’S grey.”

“It’s not,” Rory says with a chipper giggle. “It’s bloody purple.”

“Now you’re taking the piss.”

Laughing, she reaches into her purse on her shoulder and digs out her mobile. Doing a quick search on her phone, fingers tapping away on the screen, she pulls up a picture of a dress and gives him a cocky grin. “Is it white and gold, or black and blue?”

“What are you on about?” Peering at her phone screen, he gives it a quick glance before answering, “Tha’s white and gold,” stating it without a second look, absolutely sure of his decision.

“It’s not.” She locks her phone and slips it back in her bag. “It’s blue and black.”

“Proves nothin’,” he says with a sharp nod of his head, directed by his tightly clenched jaw.

Giggling at his reaction, her dimples emerge and her eyes shine. Even in a moment where he’s clearly proven wrong, Captain John Price has to believe he’s right. 

His face immediately softens, hard eyes turning crystalline as he regards her warmly, his scrunched lips curving into a gentle half grin. “Christ, I'll never get enough of that laugh, y’ know tha’?” 

She hums and she meets his gaze, curling into him and wrapping her arms around his, her hand finding the rough palm she has come to know so well, intertwining her fingers with his. “I'm aware.”

Her hand wrapped in his, dwarfed in comparison, he lifts the conjoined skin and bones and brings her slender wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh. His mustache tickles against the raised veins, smiling as the smell of her perfume fills his nostrils. Fills him. Refusing to let her go quite yet, he presses another to the center of her palm, lingering for a moment against the softness of her.

“What was that for?” she murmurs. 

“Don’t need a reason. Not with you, love.”

tagging (no pressure to interact): @aceghosts @taciturntraveller @voltac @voidika @chadillacboseman

@strangefable @josephseedismyfather @statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage

@raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @la-grosse-patate

@roofgeese @silkcrows @devil-kindred

[lucy---lou]

Part 12 Lucys-hdg-story

"Ice cream, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM!"

I hold my ears shut.

"sssshhhh Ellie I know you're excited but you're stressing Lucy"

"Sooorryyyy", I get hugged,"I really am sorry. I want you to like me"

"It's alright I'm just sensitive"

*gasp*"there, there it is", Ellie is bouncing but keeping her voice quiet.

"thanks"

We arrive at the ice cream parlor. There are just too many to choose from and they all have silly names.

"Hey there, what would you like", the floret behind the counter asks.

"Ehm - I'll have a 'I'massweetasthisicecream' please", I say with a blush. Couldn't they just call it sweet strawberry.

"Sorry I couldn't understand you, could you repeat it?"

A vine is placed next to me and I grab onto it, feeling a little more secure.

"Iee-I would like a I'll have a 'I'm as sweet as this ice cream' please"

I stare at the ground out of embarrassment. We wait for Ellie to choose and we wait and wait.

"She'll have a 'Mistress I don't know what I want' and some iced mineral water for me please"

Ellie pouts at Miss Duralis.

"Sure thing coming up, have a seat!", the floret at the counter chirps.

Ellie and I are picked up and I let out a small eep and are both placed at the table meant for floret and their owners.

"Sorry Ellie, but if we'd have waited any longer I think all the ice cream on the Helichrysum would have melted"

"Owww ok", Ellie pouts.

I let a small giggle out

"What's so funny", Ellie gives me a stare and I now start laughing.

"Do you really think the conquerors of space would let all the ice cream melt"

"Hmm no, but Mistress said so"

"I think she just wanted me to feel better. I was quite scared. Whatever she choose for you will be great"

"Yeah", she beams,"and there it is"

Two plates of way to much ice cream and a jug of mineral water is placed in front of us.

"Enjoy it"

Miss Duralis thanks the floret and she pets him and scruffles his hair. I feel jealous, but push that aside there is ice cream in front of me. I dig in.

"mmmmmmhhhhhhhh", I let out a moan.

I look over at Ellie and can berly contain my self. Her face I completely full of ice cream even in places I wonder how she got it there. I look at miss Duralis with a you seeing this look. She smiles at me and starts cleaning Ellie.

"Told you she gets too excited, that's why we don't have ice cream that often"

"I see that", I smile and happily continue eating.

Suddenly I can hear loud cheering and clapping.

<dirt>

I force my eyes shut, hold my ears with my hands and curl up. I let out a tiny displeasured queak.

I feel vines slowly creep up my body and I let them. They move up to my hands and force themselfs between my hands and head. Suddenly everything goes quiet. I take a deep breath.

"Is this better petal?", I can hear Miss Duralis clearly but nothing else. I nod.

"Would you like to go back to our hab"

I feel my eyes starting to tear up and I do a tiny nod.

"Alright petal, I'll tell Ellie"

We get picked up and I feel Miss Duralis give me a tight hug. I'm scared. The vines still allow me to move, so I turn to Ellie and hug her. I start to cry again. Time seems to fly by. Soon we're back at the hab and all three on the couch again.

"Sorry", I let out along with a long sigh.

"For what kitten?"

"For ruining everything like I always do", if I hadn't cried all the way here. I would definitely had now.

"Oh kitten, it wasn't your fault, you were just overwhelmed"

"But I alw-mpff"

"No back talking kitten, otherwise I'll have to give you something. "

"But my stupid brain" prick "meeeooowww"

"meow mieeoww mreoww", what the fuck!why can't I talk.

"MEEOOWR!"

"Can we always have her like that. She's so cute. I think I'm going to die", Ellie hugs me after finishing her adoration.

I just pout at her.

"meowrr"

"You can have fun with her on Class-Ws later first I need to settle some things", Miss Duralis seems angry?

"Look at me kitten"

Before I can even react she forces me. I try to look away.

"No little kitten, look into my eyes"

I stare at her and fall into her swerling beautiful colourful shining eyes. Everything else starts to fall away. Even if I wanted to I couldn't look away, they're just to beautiful.

"Good kitten, now drop for me"

I feel my self shut down nothing exists anymore just Miss Duralis and that's fine. I can feel her everywhere.

"Good girl"

A shiver goes down my spine.

"Now listen close"

"It's not your fault"

"You are under my care, it's my responsibility to take care of you"

Something changes. Everything feels more intense.

"You are safe"

I am safe

"You don't have to worry"

I don't have to worry

"It is not your fault"

It is not my fault

"Now come back to me kitten"

*snap*

Slowly all my senses come back to me. It feels like I was hit by an asteroid. I look at them with pleading eyes

"Meeow?", great still can't talk.

"Yes kitten, is everything alright"

I boop my head with my paws no my hands and make a hurt noise.

"Does your head hurt?"

"mmeow", I nod. I feel a prick

"That should be better now"

"Mriouw", I nod, but not just my headache is gone everything feels better.

"You can play with her now", Miss Duralis smiles.

"Yayy"

I get hugged with quite the force.

"Whatever she did to you, it's for your best"

"mrew"

Doesn't matter everything feels great and I'm safe.

"So, so ,soooo cute, sorry I have to do this. I can't hold back any longer"

SHE KISSES MY LIPS!

"meemmmeowmwmwmwm", I moan

My cheeks flush as bright pink as physically possible. She pulls away and I look at her pleading and also panting.

"Oh my stars, I needed this"

I paw at her.

"Awww, don't be sad I'll continue"

And I get kissed again and again and again. My whole body is being petted, stroked and kissed. Time seems to stop ticking in heaven. Slowly the kissing grows slower, the petting lighter. We hug each other tightly. Everything grows even slower and heavier. We drift of into blissfull sleep and of course holding each other .

-Wow that was so much fun to write and now I also have butterflies in my stomach. Also I just noticed Ellie reminds me alot of Fluffle Puff

[the-daydreaming-show]

(3.) Dreams Made Heavy.

SUMMARY: It's the celebration of Nyx's first birthday.

Or

Your time in illusion is running out and the past is ending, unable to bear its own weight any longer.

NOTE: I love this chapter because Feyre is so excited to bring the reader into her life and introduce her to her son, it's adorable. Let me know what you think of this chapter and how things are going, I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. As always, English is not my first language so sorry for spelling mistakes and mistakes of the type, any comment on it is welcome if it is respectful. I am always trying to get comfortable and improve my writing in this language. I hope you like it. XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Previus Part: (2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

AO3 / Story Masterlist

“What lived and died between us—haunts me still.” – «The Chronology of Water: A Memoir» by Lidia Yuknavitch.

Lying on your back in bed, you held the hand-painted parchment invitation above your head, looking up at it with the expression of someone who knew they had flown too close to the sun.

Feyre had painted the invitations herself—each one was different—and, in her words, they were meant as a sort of souvenir, something for each recipient to keep as a memento of the very special occasion that was Nyx’s first birthday. You didn’t know what the others looked like, but you guessed that not all of them had the shadows of three little dragons flying in the corner of the invitation. The boy’s name and what looked like a tiny fingerprint also decorated the small square of parchment, proving that he had helped create it as well. You ran your thumb over the shape of the boy’s print, which seemed to reach out to the three dragons in the corner.

“I told you that you should have brought more of a variety of outfits,” Mayhem reminded you flatly from her spot on the balcony, sitting cross-legged with her dress bunched around her as she settled in for her prayer.

With that, you snapped back to harsh reality, dropping your arms carefully so as not to ruin the invitation, and rolled over onto your stomach, wanting to drown yourself in the mattress as you let out a tearful cry.

As if that was the main problem in the whole situation, you thought, too hopeless to put it into words just yet. Of course, you wouldn't tell your court how deeply you had gotten yourself into the mud of this situation—not when they had clearly warned you it would happen, and not when you had known, deep down, that it would.

But I think it’s what I need, you had told Armin when he warned you about the consequences. And maybe you really did need it. You needed to see the beauty of the life Feyre had now, to let her go, even if it would break your heart. But you didn’t want to. You realized you weren’t sure how you would survive that. Still, there was no way out now—you were up to your neck in the consequences of your own decisions, of what you had asked for. You had wanted to see Feyre one last time, to know she was okay. And now you have gotten your wish.

“I don’t think a kid’s first birthday has much of a dress code, especially if it’s just a family gathering,” Luka added from his spot in the desk chair, practicing his penmanship on different birthday gift card options while experimenting with different ways to hold the pen with his missing finger. “Let's just be grateful if the gift has a decent bow.”

“It’s the birthday of the heir to the court. For all we know, it could be a gala, even if it’s just a family affair. It wouldn’t be unusual for people with the kind of money that the High Lord and High Lady have,” May said without changing her tone as she placed her hands in position to begin her prayer.

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s shown up in riding gear to an event like that, either,” Luka whispered, focusing on his movements on the paper.

“What’s wrong with my outfits?” you finally asked, wanting to divert the conversation, lifting your head from the pillow. “They’re all very nice and comfortable.”

“And they all smell like ash and burnt leather,” Mayhem stated before beginning to whisper her affirmations.

You gulped. You needed something to do, and figuring out party etiquette suddenly sounded like a great activity. You didn’t say anything, and no one paid you any mind as you got out of bed and walked out of the room, into the hallways of the house, on a mission to find Nesta and question her about what she might be planning for her nephew’s birthday party. Would she give him a birthday card or just the bow? Who was going? And any other information she was willing to share so that your anxiety could drown in the comfort of knowing a little more about what to expect.

When you had offered to give Feyre Nyx’s gift so she could take it to him, she had ended up handing you that beautiful invitation with the child’s name, time, and place for the party. But she had told you that the birthday hadn’t happened yet, and giving gifts or celebrating early was a no-no in mortal culture, as it was considered bad luck. So, she couldn’t accept the gift, and instead, she had invited you to the party, pulling the invitation out of her pocket and handing it to you.

You told yourself that you wanted to see if Feyre was happy, to see if everything was as it seemed. This is the perfect opportunity to do so. Don’t complain. You repeat to yourself as you walk.

As you turned into a hallway, you came across Morrigan walking toward you.

“You look like a woman on a mission,” Morrigan declared as she approached. “May I help you with it?”

“Indeed, you can,” you replied with a knowing smile. Morrigan simply followed suit.

Morrigan took you out of the house the next morning with Mayhem in tow. Your bodyguard had refused to let you go alone, following you in deathly silence despite your insistence that you could manage on your own.

It was interesting to see your friend, Mayhem—thin, pale as a ghost, with long, straight dark hair falling past her waist and piercing eyes like stone—contrast with Morrigan, who was tall, blonde, and radiant, her smile dressed in reds and golds as she walked elegantly through the city. Morrigan talked a lot, while May watched her out of the corner of her eye, expressionless, merely analyzing. She took you both shopping, exchanging gold for the currency used at court.

“Personally, this outing suits me well. I don’t know what I’ll wear yet, and if Feyre paints a picture of the occasion, I want my nephew to see that his favorite aunt was the best-dressed since before he could even remember,” the blonde commented, linking her arm with yours as she walked.

“At this point, the only standard I have is that it not be riding clothes, as has been widely pointed out,” you replied, casting an accusatory look at Mayhem, who simply shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t regret her insistence.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with that—you need more variety in your wardrobe.” Morrigan shot May a knowing look, which she didn’t return. Instead, your friend put on a pitying expression and looked away. Morrigan, however, didn’t seem offended or put off by her reaction. “Uh, let’s start with this store. It’s one of my favorites.”

Morrigan pulled your arm into a sudden U-turn that nearly made you trip, while Mayhem hurried to catch up, trying to return to your side as quickly as possible. You managed to straighten up before entering the store, where a kind woman immediately greeted Morrigan by name, and the scent of lavender filled your nostrils.

Your escort broke away from you to chat about the occasion she needed an outfit for, expressing her excitement about the birthday, while you and Mayhem wandered slowly through the store together.

You quickly let Mayhem take the lead, walking ahead of you and browsing options on your behalf, given your clear lack of enthusiasm and ideas after the first two rows of hangers. You rejected skirts of any length—not because you didn’t like them, but because riding a dragon in them often led to painful scrapes on your legs. And since you never knew when you’d be flying Balerion, you avoided them whenever possible.

Instead, you picked out a loose-fitting pair of pants. While they wouldn’t be ideal for riding due to the excess fabric, they would suffice in an emergency. You left Mayhem to decide on the color and wandered toward the shirts, where Morrigan was supposed to be—though you couldn’t see her among the hanging clothes.

Taking advantage of the illusion of privacy, you asked a question.

“Morrigan, will you give the birthday boy a card along with your gift?” You spoke into the air, waiting patiently for an answer as you admired the shirts, t-shirts, and tops around you. But when no immediate response came, you suddenly felt the need to justify your question. “I know he can’t read—it’s only his first birthday. But Fey enjoys keeping memories.”

“First of all, I’m giving him too many presents to include a card with each one.” You jumped in place when her voice sounded much closer than expected. “Second, call me Mor. And third—” Morrigan rounded the corner of the same row of hangers you were hiding behind, looking at you in amusement. “Fey?”

You felt like a deer caught in headlights. Or rather, like Balerion when you caught him stealing cattle.

Mor, carrying several red and purple dresses in her arms, walked toward you with a friendly smile. Mayhem, as silent as your anxiety, appeared at your side, making you glance over as she placed three pairs of pants in your arms, giving you a knowing look.

Are you okay? her eyes asked as she carefully arranged the clothes in your arms, hangers included. You nodded quickly while she adjusted the garments on your elbow.

“Yes, it’s—” You swallowed, realizing your mouth was dry, then turned to Mor. “It’s what I called her when we were kids. Pronouncing ‘Feyre’ was too much for me back then—my country accent kept me from being understood.”

Mayhem settled next to you, browsing through the pants among the shirts. You mimicked her, and Morrigan wasted no time joining in, glancing at the pants in your arms before helping with the search.

“You had an accent?” Mor asked casually. “Sometimes I swear I hear something in Feyre’s tone, but not enough to place it. Is that it? Did she have one?” She then lifted the sleeve of a nearby shirt, holding it against the fabric of one of the pants to check the match, only to let it go with a frown.

“No, actually, in all the years I knew her, she never quite managed to shake off her posh, aristocratic accent. She sounds pretty normal now—I guess time has won in that regard,” you explained, recalling little Feyre elegantly asking how to set up a rabbit trap in the woods. Even now, the memory was amusing. Morrigan must have agreed because she let out a genuine laugh.

“And your accent? What happened to it?” Mor asked, looking up from the shirts to meet your gaze. This time, you didn’t avoid her eyes or her question. Instead, you met her gaze and answered.

“Courtesans with accents aren’t well regarded unless they sound ‘exotic,’ and I didn’t fall into that category by any standard. So, I was trained until I lost it,” you explained simply, turning toward another rack of more casual tops. Mayhem mirrored you without thinking, even though none of the clothes in front of her now matched the outfit she had been planning with the pants.

As you browsed side by side, Mayhem silently took your hand, squeezing your fingers. You looked at her. She smiled sadly—a quiet comfort, an “I understand you”. Because even though Mayhem had never been trained as a courtesan, when she was raised to be a hired assassin for a slave master in the bay, they had done the same thing to her as they had to you. They trained her to forget who she was and become what was expected of her.

“What was she like?” Morrigan asked. You had almost forgotten she was standing next to you, but you turned to her, murmuring in confusion.

“Feyre, when you were children. What was she like?”

You thought for a moment. You could have said more if you had started, though at the end of the day, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you genuinely believed the answer you ended up giving her.

“Not much different from now,” you pointed out softly, to which Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “But smaller, of course, and with an insatiable need to learn.”

“And with an elegant accent?” Morrigan smiled mischievously.

“Yes, my lady.” The phrase, mimicking the elegant, exaggerated tone Feyre used to have as a child, made Morrigan burst into laughter.

“She sounded like that?!?” she asked between giggles.

“Don’t tell her I told you—she always said it was my imagination. But I swear to anyone that she sounded exactly like that,” you told her, while May, noticing that you were calmer, returned to searching for shirts to match the pants.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” Morrigan assured, her eyes glinting with honesty and amusement, a look that went unnoticed by you. “Come on, you need some good boots for those pants.”

With that, Morrigan led you toward the stairs of the store, May hurrying behind both of you, shirts in hand, as you headed up to the second floor where the shoes were.

To Mayhem's bewilderment, Morrigan made sure to give—and impose—her opinions on the outfit the black-haired girl was putting together for you, quickly realizing that you had little drive or interest in making choices yourself, trusting their judgment without much thought. As the day went on, you got the impression that the blonde had started to genuinely enjoy debating Mayhem’s choices, gradually drawing her into longer discussions, getting her to argue more and more as the hours passed.

You picked out the pants from the first store, but May wasn’t convinced by anything else there, so the three of you scoured nearly every shop in Velaris to piece together your outfit. Jewelry became the biggest battleground between Morrigan’s yin and Mayhem’s yang, reaching its peak when May delivered a twelve-word speech to Morrigan about why silver jewelry suited you better than gold. Morrigan’s defeat did nothing to deter her—if anything, she seemed to enjoy it. When you finally walked out with the silver jewelry May had carefully selected, your two shopping companions each latched onto one of your arms, and off you went.

“I’ll pick you up at the House. And don’t even think about putting those pants on that beast’s saddle.” That was the last thing she said before leaving you in the living room of the House of Wind—then she disappeared without another word.

You wished you had put on a riding suit. Leather would have made you feel safer than the soft, airy fabric of the fancy pants you had bought. You regretted the logic that had led you to avoid Mayhem accompanying you—and the fact that it had worked.

“If I’m going to be killed at the birthday party, there’s nothing you can do. It’s a gathering of the most powerful beings on this continent—and all the continents—so it probably won’t make any difference whether you’re here or not.”

You were right. Mayhem knew that. But once you arrived, you realized that her silent support would have been invaluable. Mor had dragged you into the house happily, as if there was nothing wrong with your presence. Yet you could feel the guests’ wary gazes, and soon after, she left you alone—standing at the entrance to the living room with your gift in hand—while she excitedly went to greet the other guests. There was no way to feel balanced, but at least now you knew that it wasn’t just your side that was the problem.

Someone called your name, and before you knew it, Elain Archeron was in front of you, wrapping you in a hug.

“Hi,” you greeted her tentatively, trying to hug her back without dropping the gift in your hands. The gift was a small, handmade wooden chest carved with stars and the moon, barely bigger than your hand, wrapped with a perfect bow—one that Luka had managed to tie despite having one less finger than usual. He had been very proud of it.

“Hello,” Elain replied, pulling away and looking at you with emotion in her eyes. “How are you?”

A glimpse of the human life she once had—that’s what this was, you thought. It was no secret in your court how unhappy the middle Archeron was about her life as a High Fae, and how she openly longed to be human again. Elain was not comfortable in her own skin. You could understand that, and you smiled back at her because of it.

“Well, it was refreshing to have a change of scenery after so much time in the desert,” you commented softly, watching as she looked at you intently before hooking her arm around yours and gently pulling you toward an armchair in the empty living room.

“I’ve seen the dragons in the sky since you arrived,” she explained, smiling as they sat down peacefully. “They seem to enjoy the mountains, and the blue one always seems to stay near the flowers.”

“Yeah, they’re not used to seeing so many colors,” you explained, carefully placing the gift on your lap and making sure the bow didn’t shift from its perfect position.

“Balerion is the oldest, right? He’s quite large compared to the others,” she commented softly, her curiosity genuine.

“Of those who accompanied me here, yes, he’s the oldest. He was born in the volcanoes, but he’s the second-born of all the dragons—they have an older sister and a younger one,” you explained calmly. Elain listened attentively, and you didn’t mind. You loved talking about your dragons. “The other two that came with me are Caraxes and Dreamfyre. They hatched in the desert.”

“You need to stop pestering the poor woman with questions,” Nesta’s voice cut in as she sat sideways at the head of the chair. “She’s been obsessed ever since you flew over the city when you arrived, and she won’t stop asking me questions,” she added, taking a sip of her fruit juice.

“And you have no answers, Nesta,” Elain complained, turning her gaze back to you. “The blue one of the two—the middle one. What is its name? I always see it flying over the flower meadows outside the city.”

“Her name is Dreamfyre. The flowers in the desert—the few that grow—don’t have much of a scent, so the flowers here fascinate her. That’s why she’s always camping out in the meadows,” you explained. Elain seemed ecstatic, her eyes lighting up at the information, but before she could say anything else, another voice interrupted the conversation.

“Elain, I told you not to pester her with questions as soon as she got here,” Feyre scolded, sounding somewhat embarrassed as she approached you at a quick pace. She was wearing a dress. “Sorry, she’s been obsessed with them ever since you arrived.”

“That’s what Nesta told me. But don’t worry, it’s nice to talk about them out of curiosity,” you commented, smiling softly at Elain.

It’s nice to talk about them as if they were nothing more than weapons to be used in war, you wanted to say, but that would be saying too much.

Elain, seeing that her questions didn’t bother you, prepared to ask another, but Feyre’s hand suddenly appeared in both of your fields of vision, drawing your attention away from your curiosity. Standing in front of you, dressed in the style of her court, her hair half-up and decorated with pearl stars in a style very similar to Nesta’s—though with more hair cascading down her back—Feyre offered you her hand, a gleam in her eyes.

“Come,” she said, gently taking your hand and pulling you toward her. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Feyre lifted you off the couch and led you down a hallway that stretched deeper into the house. The sounds of the party faded as the steady tug of her hand guided you through the house, and you nervously held your gift to your chest the entire way.

The silence of the house was suffocating as you moved forward, and you became hyper aware of the way she wouldn’t let go of your hand. In a sudden turn that took you by surprise, Feyre took the opportunity to intertwine your fingers more firmly, and you didn’t know what disturbed you more—the touch of another human being, something you had grown sensitive to since leaving the volcano, or the fact that it was her hand holding yours. The one who hid so many secrets from you that simply being in her presence made you feel tainted. You felt disrespectful.

You two climbed the stairs and then turned the final corner of the path, at which point you saw Cassian and Azriel, both casually standing on either side of a particular door. Guarding. That’s when you realized, with the same feeling as someone who had just received a punch to the stomach, who you were about to be introduced to. You quickly adjusted the gift in your hand, praying that the bow hadn’t shifted from its place when you pressed it against your chest, and Cassian waved at you as you walked past him, entering the room.

There was a huge stained glass window that offered a beautiful view of the mountains and the meadow of flowers Elain had mentioned earlier. From there, you could see your three dragons in the distance. Standing in front of the stained glass and looking at them was Rhysand, with little Nyx sitting on his hip, pointing and babbling. You stood in your spot, watching the child interact with his father, squeezing Feyre’s hand, torn between your own decision.

You looked at her, as if ready to lend a helping hand if she was sure of what she was going to do. After almost a decade of not seeing each other, you wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t feel comfortable introducing her son. But she was looking at you with an excited smile, genuinely happy that you were there about to do what you were going to do, and guilt closed your throat as you let her happily lead you over to where Rhysand was holding the child by the window. He turned to greet you as soon as he heard your footsteps, though you had no doubt he had known you were there long before. He smiled softly every time your gaze met as you approached. He didn’t look uncomfortable either; in fact, he seemed the calmest of the three because Feyre was vibrating with excitement and you were almost frozen with fear. If he felt uneasy about the situation, he didn’t show it for a second. When he greeted you by name as you reached his side, you managed to sense that the arrangement held back a little too strongly.

The bow, you scolded yourself as you breathed, looking at him and checking the state of the bow.

Nyx noticed his mom standing next to him and reached out to her as he babbled, and Feyre closed the distance between them, happily receiving him and resting him on her hip. She whispered your name excitedly as she looked at the chubby boy in her arms, then raised her head to smile.

“This is Nyx,” she proudly introduced, then pointed at you softly, drawing the boy’s attention in your direction. “Nyx, this is y/n.”

The pride in her voice and the smile on her face as she approached you with the child in her arms were undeniable, and it was also the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. At that moment, you panicked; you didn’t show it, but you looked at Rhysand, trying to convey: This is the moment where you get protective of your child or something and end this encounter. But the idiot was staring at his wife and child, mesmerized.

“Say hello, Nyx,” Feyre asked sweetly, moving closer to you and leaving you no choice but to accept the situation. Ever since you had met Rhysand, you had tried not to think too much around him because of the information you had received about his abilities, but now you could only think about wanting to know what he was thinking. It had been planned that something very different would happen, and you had even been advised not to bring the gift for Nyx because it could be taken the wrong way. Yet Rhysand didn’t seem to be reacting to the situation, which made you more anxious than anything. Meanwhile, little Nyx, with his chubby hand, made a greeting motion towards you along with a little sound that you assumed was the closest he could get to saying hello.

“Hello,” you greeted back, shifting uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. “Umm, I brought you a gift; it’s some toys.”

“I’m sure you can’t get enough of those. Right, my love?” Feyre ran her hand through the boy’s curly black hair, giving you a moment to admire him more closely.

You noticed two things. The boy’s wings weren’t in sight, which meant they were either hidden or he had already developed the ability to hide them. He was the spitting image of his mother. Yes, he had his father’s hair, skin, and reportedly wings, but it was Feyre’s eyes, color, and shape, as well as his nose and the shape of his lips.

“He looks just like you,” you pointed out, reaching up to run a finger over the freckles on the boy’s nose, just as you used to do with Feyre. The little boy looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

“Really?” Feyre asked, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Yes. It’s a mini you, Fey.” You assured her without looking at her. Feyre didn’t say anything else, but you could feel her beaming with happiness; her enthusiasm was almost contagious, to the point that you smiled softly at the child who was watching you intently. Nyx reached out his hand towards you, pointing and looking at his mother, asking a silent question, to which Feyre repeated your name. The baby babbled and looked at you, as if waiting for you to answer.

Rhysand decided to make a move at that moment. He stood next to Feyre and met your gaze before the questions began.

“May I?” he said, pointing to the wooden trunk you still held in your hand. You handed it to him without much thought, your hands feeling the loss of something to hold onto. You missed your gloves and regretted not putting on any rings.

Rhysand pulled at one of the strips of the undone bow, all under your watchful eye. Feyre peeked out a little to see as he removed the small latch from the trunk and lifted the lid, revealing your gift. Inside the trunk, resting on a padded base, were three toy dragons, carved in intricate detail from wood and with polished black stone eyes.

“They’re very popular in the bay. I chose these because I thought that since Nyx would probably be able to see them through the window, bringing him the same ones he would see would be more appealing than a regular dragon. Maybe he would enjoy them more. The kids in the bay even collect them, so...” you explained hurriedly as you watched Rhysand pull out the one that was Balerion and stare at it.

“They’re beautiful,” Feyre whispered breathlessly, pulling mini Caraxes out of the box and looking at the carved wood intently.

Rhysand and Feyre seemed fine with the gifts; they hadn’t moved the boy’s toys away, so you assumed they considered them safe. But the opinion that mattered to you was Nyx’s. So you found yourself staring at little Nyx expectantly, hoping he would like your gift.

You weren't lying when you said they were popular in the bay. Of your adult dragons, who constantly flew over the bay and its cities, all of them had been immortalized as wooden toys in countless numbers by this point, for children to play with and enjoy. It was rare to see a child on the street who wasn't walking with a wooden dragon in hand or one within quick reach, either in the hand of one of their companions or hidden in a pocket or bag.

Sure, there were more expensive gold or silver versions sold to high-born children, but those were the ones you saw on the streets all the time, and they were the ones you enjoyed the most. You thought wood was the most worthy material to immortalize your dragons in; there was something about it that felt more alive than any metal. You had your own collection, as apprentice carpenters who learned to make them would give you the ones that failed to meet their standards so you could see if a dragon that looked like that would ever be born.

You had bought those three from an old carpenter who refused to die and continued to work on his craft with passion. He had been recommended to you on the streets, and he had ordered all three personally. The man hadn't made toys in years, according to his words, but he had made them for free despite your complaints and had exceeded the expectations you had for his work.

Nyx set her gaze on the dragon in Feyre's hand, looking at it for a second before glancing at the one Rhysand held. She reached out her hand towards the mini Balerion with eagerness, almost breaking out of her mother's arms to reach it.

“Looks like there’s already a favorite,” Rhysand laughed, letting Nyx reach for the toy in his hand. When she did, Nyx held the dragon in both hands, looking at it as she babbled excitedly. She shifted in place to face you and held out her hand with the dragon, babbling something in a questioning tone.

“Balerion,” you said, and it was immediately met with a determined babble.

“Bababa,” the boy said, looking closely at the toy, then immediately glancing at the dragon that Feyre still held in her other hand. He let go of Balerion without thinking and grabbed the other dragon. Rhysand managed to catch the toy before it fell. Again, he offered the toy to you with a mumbled question, grabbing it by the neck roughly, which you found funny. The long neck of Caraxes’ lizard was very different from the rest of your dragons; you called it Wyrm because of that.

“Caraxes,” you said, playing with your fingers and waiting patiently.

“Carrare,” Nyx repeated, stretching out the "r" so that it spit a little onto Feyre’s sweater. Rhysand offered him the third toy before he could ask for anything, pulling mini Caraxes from her hand to break his fall. The process repeated itself: Nyx offered the dragon to you, and you stammered in question.

“Dreamfyre,” and this time Nyx couldn’t even stammer a syllable; her attempt at pronunciation only got her tongue tied, ending with her tongue sticking out. “Two out of three is very good,” you assured him when he looked at you for approval, smiling sweetly at him. He mimicked the smile before turning around and searching for the missing toys in his hands.

Nyx babbled over to her mother, showing her the toys, and Feyre's attention shifted to the boy, her eyes shining as she looked at the toys and accepted the explanation of their names. It was lovely to see her interact with her son like this, but you soon realized that it left you and Rhysand in an awkward silence, or at least an awkward one for you.

When you glanced at him, checking to see if he was distracted by the sight of his wife as he had been a while ago, you found him staring at you with an expression you couldn't understand. You felt the heat of embarrassment build up in your neck.

“I’m glad he likes them,” you managed to say, looking at him with the softest smile possible. “Even if he stops playing with them, he can use them for decoration; I use them for that.”

“Do you have any of these?” Rhysand asked, his tone amused. Embarrassment crept up your neck and onto your face.

“Yes, I get them as gifts from time to time, and I put them on my mantelpiece,” you answered quickly, turning your full attention back to Feyre.

“I hear he has a taste for carved wood,” Rhysand subtly noted, directing the question at you but feigning indifference to your reaction.

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile and nodded softly, unable to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off if you spoke. The table—that was what he was referring to when he mentioned your taste for carved wood. When he had ordered the piece of furniture, you hadn’t thought that its acquisition would mean much, but once it was installed in the War Room of your mansion on the bay, word had spread that the new queen of Slaver’s Bay had acquired a table carved from wood and inlaid with stone, outlining in detail the shape of the great continent, with the lands and kingdoms of mortals carved into it, and the borders detailed. A huge wooden map, the map of a conqueror.

Everyone knew what that table was for; the cards declaring you queen had been an action long overdue on the continent, and that beautiful piece of art carved in wood was the reason.

“They are beautiful,” Feyre spoke to you, easing the tension out of your shoulders with just those words. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a softer smile this time.

The party officially started when they walked in with the birthday boy. Little Nyx happily passed from arm to arm for the first few minutes after his arrival, receiving hugs and kisses from practically everyone. You became a silent presence during this process, accompanied by a drink and the occasional snack that would allow you to eat because you were hungry, but you wouldn't be able to devour the food as your body demanded because there were so many people.

When people began to clear out around you, you felt like a child, sensing the gaze on your back—how you knew when one of the younger dragons thought to try and attack to see what would happen, or when you were within sight of the wolves in the woods in your youth. The eyes followed you as you walked to the drinks table and helped yourself again to the fruit juice you had been drinking.

The eyes fixed on your back followed you to the open doors in the courtyard, where you leaned on the railing that limited the unevenness of the floor, entering the building and the garden that you suspected was Elain's area. You felt her gaze as if she were looking at a bright red target on your back as she approached you with a calm step, as if she weren't stalking you or didn't care to be obvious in her pursuit.

When Amren stood beside you, the most primal part of you—the one that was more beast than person and as connected to Balerion as if they were one—wanted to growl in threat, and you were sure Balerion was doing it in the mountains, leaving room for you as the threatening sound bounced off his chest and tongue.

“Enjoying the food?” she asked with little kindness or dissimulation of her skepticism towards your presence. “I imagine you have a particular appetite since you brought your beasts to life.”

We are not talking about food. Of course not.

“My appetite is particular, but I only eat what I need,” you assured her absentmindedly.

“And if you are not satisfied, kovesh*? Where will you look to satisfy your appetite?” The question was cruel, accusatory towards you. And you smiled calmly at her because you knew what she was implying with the question.

Once you conquer mortal lands, how do you know you would not want more and look to us, conqueror?

Amren was not out of place. That was why her words did not affect you as much as they should have; you had expected these questions at one time or another. Dragons, as beloved as they were to you, were in the eyes of many like a strong brute, one that few defenses could stop or harm. You had conquered the bay in less than a year with them; you had already proven that you were capable of carrying out the actions necessary to take lands with only dragon fire as a weapon. And when you commissioned the carved table, you made it clear that the conquest of the bay and the liberation of the slaves had not been enough for you. It has not sated your appetite. You had already made the first move to conquer the rest of the continent owned by mortals. You offered peace before unleashing war again, but the statement was firm: you would not back down if the queen did not bend the knee. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, only your appetite for conquest and power moved you to seek to conquer those lands. You knew the truth; you knew what you had seen in the lava and what you wanted to avoid, but you didn't need anyone else to do it.

You sat up straighter and took a step closer to her, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Amren stood up straighter, as if ready to fight, but you just stared at the way her hair fell perfectly, framing her sharp jaw and slanted eyes; it was wonderful. Her eyes looked up at you, irritated by your boldness, no doubt. You weren’t sure if you were more irritated because, at this close distance, the height difference between you and her was apparent, even without her heels, or because you reached up and moved a strand of hair from her cheek delicately, leaning carelessly on one elbow on the railing beside you, daring not to fear the infamous second of the Night Court.

“On that side of the sea, dear and stunning Amren, it is not my appetite that is a problem.” You watched her as she blurted out the statement, her tone sweet, finding it adorable how beings like her could not see past their necks and did not understand the truth of life.

It was not you or your dragons. It was their kind, sworn to the gods with the lives of mortals even when the wall had been up for years and were now free to do as they pleased. It was them, not you, who planned to invade and sent their beasts to test the waters on the other side of the unprotected border the wall had left behind.

A name called out to you from inside the house. You turned your head to find Elain walking hurriedly toward you, followed by a man with stubby skin, hair that was more white than blonde, and a face that looked less than happy. Elain quickly hugged your elbow when she reached you, repeating your name with somewhat forced excitement.

“This is Varian,” she pointed to the grumpy male who came to Amren’s side and hugged her around the waist, looking you up and down skeptically. “You’ve been introduced to him; he’s Amren’s boyfriend.”

Elain stared at you, wanting to say something, but you weren’t sure what it was. You looked at Varian and Amren, searching for a clue as to what it was, but Amren had leaned against Varian, looking at you as you supposed she was looking at the people, and Varian was still frowning. You knew who he was and his relationship with her, but you didn’t think it was a state secret, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise or something that serious.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, not sure what else to say, moving your glass of juice in his direction. You're still confused as Elain pulled you into the house. 

“Have you seen Feyre’s paintings? Let me show them!” the girl said hurriedly as you let her lead you.

Elain led you down the hallway of the house, away from the central area. It was long and ended in double glass doors that led to the patio, making it perfectly lit for the paintings hanging on both sides. There were no doors or hallways that branched off from this hallway, only walls displaying Feyre's paintings.

At the beginning was the most recent one. A painting of Rhysand, Fey, and little Nyx when he must have been a newborn was the first one that caught your attention. It was proof of how the talent that had painted wooden drawers, tables, and small wooden figures had evolved wonderfully until it became that divinely illuminated image, with colors brightened by the rays of sunlight that flooded the hallway.

“Wow.”

“I know, right? It gets better every day. Soon we’ll be trying to walk inside its paintings in search of experiencing their beauty,” Elain spoke softly, as if she had lost her breath. You watched her smile at the painting with pride before she pulled you toward the next one.

There was one of the three sisters, along with Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, and one of Nyx alone. You were surprised by the one of Mr. Archeron, but you didn’t wince. There were also remnants of all of them individually, and one that depicted them as a whole. A family. At the end of the hallway was a painting leaning against the wall, as if waiting to meet its fate; the nail it should have hung on highlighted the empty spot where it had been or should be hanging.

“Oh, I should get back—”

“Elain, do you mind changing Nyx’s diaper for me?” Feyre’s voice rang out in the hallway. You looked at Elain, confused, not understanding why she wanted to go back, but she just gave you a sad smile before meeting up with Feyre in the hallway and taking the child from her arms.

Nyx didn’t need a diaper change; you could smell it quickly—it was an excuse for Elain to leave. Looking back at you from the hallway, at the place where the painting leaned silently against the wall, that was when Elain realized she wanted to get you out of there.

Feyre slowly approached you as you walked carefully down the hall, moving toward the painting leaning against the wall as if it were an explosive of some sort. Feyre didn't stop you, which you assumed was a sign that she didn’t want to keep it from you but rather wanted to be there when you saw it.

As you stood in front of the painting, you noticed that a corner of the cloth covering it was falling away, revealing the right edge of the canvas. Your breath caught. You recognized the snowy forest you and Feyre had walked through so many times, and the dark, curly hair, just like your mother's, peeking out from beneath the cloth. Feyre reached under your arm and hugged you, holding your hand and interlacing your fingers.

“I made it a few months ago, before you sent the letters,” which was before she knew you were alive. Feyre had painted it thinking you were dead. “When I found out, I repainted it. I wanted to give it to her, but when we sent Mor to the bay with the letter, I thought it would be too much for you. I don’t know the exact circumstances, so I didn’t know how you would take it on top of everything.”

Feyre spoke to you in a whisper, so only you could hear her, but you weren’t able to look at her or answer her, or even return her handshake. You felt her gaze on your profile, full of concern, as if it pulsed out of her to you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” she admitted, just like you had a few days ago regarding the gift for Nyx.

But you weren't able to reassure her the same way she had done with you, because she had crossed a line—one you had blocked years ago when you decided to fight for your freedom in the volcanoes, ignoring the emptiness that weighed down and bled in your heart.

You ripped the canvas off the top of the painting's frame with one pull, like tearing off a band-aid while holding your breath, and you couldn't breathe again when you looked at the painting in front of you.

The scene depicted a winter afternoon, with the forest covered in white. Rue, dressed in her clothes to accompany you on hunts when you deemed it safe for her, was half-turned, facing forward, as if watching you as she walked in front of you in the snow. Her hair, a massive, curly mass just like your mother’s, was tied into a makeshift braid. You had never been able to style it the way your mother knew how, so it was loose and low, with many strands flying in the wind around her face as she stood halfway into the forest, looking at you as if you had called out to her not to go ahead on the walk.

You stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in your throat as the lump that had formed there became unbearable, and the burning in your eyes as you refused to cry, despite your body begging for it. You stared at the painting for a long moment while Feyre looked at you, still feeling her concern against your cheek.

Finally, you set your jaw and stared at the floor, blinking rapidly. Feyre rested her hand on your cheek, her thumb caressing your hand, and you were able to squeeze back, turning your knuckles white, but she didn’t complain.

“She looks like she’s saying goodbye,” she finally said, looking back at the painting, and Feyre looked at it too, admiring for the first time the depth of her own act. “Since she left, I haven’t been able to remember her any other way. But I like the ability to remember her this way.”

You didn’t explain to her that the way you remembered her was covered in blood, terrified, and with the feeling of helplessness tearing through your chest. There was no reason to put that on her, but you wanted her to know that the line she had crossed was significant. You might now think that she had left you like that—smiling, with her hair free in the wind, in the middle of the snow that she loved to play in so much and that she missed during her years on the pirate islands. You could imagine that those were her last moments, going into the forest you had accustomed her to so much, where she felt safe, never to return again, becoming part of the nature and the snow of the place.

“Thank you,” you managed to say over the tightness in your throat.

Feyre smiled softly. You felt her warmth as she rested her head on your shoulder, and you stayed like that for a while before going back to the celebration.

You left the painting leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door in your room so that you could see it from your place, sitting in the middle of the bed. You couldn't sleep and had resigned yourself to waking up and asking for some tea.

You didn't notice Mayhem in the room until she was sitting next to you on the bed, the hot cup of tea in her hands. It was only then that you realized she had even come in. You silently thanked her and took the cup from her hands, but she didn't move. She just sat there, and you looked at the cup, your hands, and the painting, constantly shifting your focus among them, but never looking back at her.

A silent understanding formed between the two of you, and Mayhem stayed with you as you drank all your tea. It worked; whether it was the tea or her reassuring presence, when you finished your cup, your eyes closed, and you fell asleep as soon as you laid your head on the pillow.

You dreamed of Rue. You always dreamed of her being scared in her final moments, but that night, for the first time since you lost her, you dreamed of her happiness. You saw her answering you in the forest, playing with the snow. You woke up with the certainty that she had stayed there, happily making snowmen, and also knowing that Feyre knew what she would do here, happy for the rest of the eternity that the Mother had granted her for her sacrifices.

It was time for you to go to your war; the illusions ended here.

*kovesh: It means conqueror in Hebrew, which is the language I have decided to use as a representation of the first language of mortals, without any particular reason other than I do not have the mind to invent a language for this story. All words in this language will be translated by me as best as possible, but if anyone knows the language that I do and sees any flaws in my translations in the future feel free to point it out in the comments.

Next Part: ...

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[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter two

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

001. NOTE

thank you so much for all the love on this fic so far! i didn’t think that many people would be reading this on here. so thank you!

IT WAS ANOTHER WEEKEND IN LOS ANGELES, WHICH MEANT ANOTHER EVENT FILLED WITH CELEBRITIES AND INFLUENCERS. You didn't even know what the event was for anymore, you had met so many people that night, shaken so many hands and repeated your name so many times that it had slipped your mind what you were actually there for. It had also slipped your mind that Madelyn had messaged you that morning to tell you she was attending the same event. So you hadn't remembered to look for Madelyn. You also hadn't had the time to, even if you had remembered.

But Madelyn had remembered. She had been looking for you the minute she stepped foot on the carpet that night. Even when she had bumped into Drew that night, she was still looking for you. But Madelyn didn't want Drew to know she had been looking for you the entire time the two had been talking. So she tried to act as though she wasn't even sure if you were there. "I think Y/N/N is here tonight, I should text her." Madelyn had said, slipping her phone out of her bag. Not even sure if you would have your phone on you to see the message.

Drew had frowned. "Who the hell is Y/N/N?" He hadn't a single clue who Madelyn was talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." Madelyn corrected herself, thinking using your name would be clearer. Not everyone called you ‘Y/N/N'.

"I'm still confused." The frown stayed on Drew's face.

It was then Madelyn's turn to frown. "Y/N Y/L/N?" She questioned. But the confused look stayed on Drew's face. "Come on, Drew." Madelyn spoke about you enough for Drew to have recognised the name.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Drew asked her, before taking a sip from his drink.

"Drew...I am shocked." Madelyn couldn't believe Drew didn't have a single clue who you were. Madelyn's best friend for the past two years.

"Is this the same person you talk about all the time? The singer." It was as though a lightbulb went off in Drew's head. All the times Madelyn spoke about you, he had suddenly remembered.

"Yes!"

"Right. I still don't really know who she is." Although he knew you were friends with Madelyn, he still wasn't sure who you were. Had never seen you anywhere before or listened to any of your music. For all he knew, Madelyn could have been making you up.

Madelyn rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone to text you. "I'll introduce you to her. She's amazing, you'll love her."

"Sure." Drew knew Madelyn was only saying that because she loved you. It wasn't as though he'd become friends with you, or even see you again. At least so he thought.

A good 20 minutes had passed. The topic of you had been left and Drew and Madelyn continued to speak about other things. Till a familiar face walked into sight. "Y/N/N!" Madelyn shouted for you, hoping she was loud enough for you to hear.

You had finally been given a minute to breathe and was on your way to grab a drink when you heard somebody calling your name. "Oh my God, Maddie." You had never been so happy to see your friend. You approached Madelyn, completing missing for a second that Madelyn had been standing with somebody else. You quickly wrapped your arms around your friend, giving her a squeeze. "Please save me. I haven't had a minute to even think since I got here." You had said as you hugged your friend.

"Okay, Miss Popular." Madelyn laughed as she released you from her hold.

You then pouted. "I've missed you." Two months without having time to see each other was too long. You two had been inseparable since the moment you met two years ago.

"I missed you too." Madelyn mirrored your pout. She then heard a cough from beside her. "Oh, Y/N/N, this is Drew." Madelyn had completely forgotten Drew was beside her. But you had noticed. His piercing stare had caught your attention the moment you saw him standing with Madelyn. "Drew, this is Y/N."

You had a hunch it was Drew standing beside Madelyn. You’d obviously never met him before but you had seen the odd photo, and had watched Outer Banks before. Madelyn also spoke about him a lot. "Ah, the famous Drew Starkey." You smiled at him. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." Your smile grew and Drew had almost forgotten to reply.

"You have?" He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. From Maddie, Chase. You're probably the only one I hadn't met." You had seemed to have met all of Madelyn's costars and friends except for Drew.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet the Y/N/N that Madelyn won't shut up about." Drew smiled, feeling himself feeling strange under your gaze.

"Aww." You turned to Madelyn.

"It's true, I do talk about you a lot." Madelyn said, nodding her head. She wasn't embarrassed about it, you knew how much Madelyn adored you.

You were about to turn back to Drew, say something else but you were interrupted by your name being called. "Y/N." The voice of your manager filled your ears and you winced.

"Oh no, I'm being summoned."

Your manager approached you from the side, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's somebody I want you to meet."

"Okay, coming." You smiled and nodded, before turning back to Madelyn and Drew. "Sorry, I can't stay and chat." You told them both. You then looked towards Madelyn. "We'll meet up soon, okay?" Madelyn nodded. You then turned to Drew. "And it was nice to meet you, Drew." You gave him a smile, your cheeks flushing but you didn't notice.

"Yeah, you too." Drew mirrored your smile, and your flushed cheeks. You then disappeared into the crowd and Drew never saw you again that night. But your face and your voice spent the night in his head. He couldn't seem to think about anything else, even for days after.

yourusername posted a photo !

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yourusername in a sheer dress

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user god damn GOD DAMN

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madelyncline fuck you’re so hot

↳ yourusername fuck i love you

user hope she’s working on her new album

↳ user she hasn’t even toured eics yet, give her a chance

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↳ yourusername like i wouldn’t date the fuck out of you if either of us swung for the other team

user caption sounds like a song lyric

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @sereneera @glitteryfurything @harrys-housewife @st8rkey

[bubacorn]

hi buba! sorry to drop by randomly. the tldr is that the image wouldnt leave my brain and its vibe reminds me of how your fics make me feel. all soft and cozy and cared for. so i guess i just wanted to say thank you.

also its titled "halo" because the way he steadies his mic with his left hand and his fingers spread makes me think of the rising sun. felt like i needed to mention that. probably looks weird without context, sorry :|

panda, i am kissing your beautiful brain and hands, this is glorious, i love it! 💜 i'm glad you dropped by and i can't even express how it makes me feel that you feel so strongly about my writing 🥺 please never apologize for popping into my inbox either, i'm happy to see you!

i am also so, so happy that you included the title and the thought behind it, because i adore that hand placement and you connecting it to a sunrise?? yes!!!

the hands, the head tilt, II's eyes being closed, it's all so gorgeous and full of its own symbolism. there's something about Vessel sort of being torn between wanting to hold and cradle (i so adore that word) but being afraid of his touch. the way he holds the microphone like that translates such a carefulness to me, that need for control and for things to happen a certain way even while he's allowing himself to be vulnerable

'i will project myself and my voice but only on my own terms. i will show my hand and uncurl my fingers but keep them close to myself. you will see me emote through the movements of my hands if i can't give you the emotions on my face' but also 'i will hold you gently. i will break my fingers if it means i can protect you from harm. my hands will hold your jaw, where you can tear into me if you so wish, to show my trust. i will use my fingers to give you a crown because you are a sunrise to me, a beginning, certainty, the promise of warmth and light. my hands create but they could never create something as precious as you are. i can only hope to behold you and keep you safe'

i might have gone on a bit of a sentimental ramble there but i'm so grateful you sent this to me, thank you! 💜 i'm fairly sure i will be thinking about this a lot

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 135 (Heather's Home!)

Conrad was sitting in the kitchen with Lavender when Heather returned from Selvadorada. "Mommy!" Lavender squealed.

Heather beamed. She'd missed their joyful smiles, but she moved slowly, feeling nauseous again as her body still recovered from the spider bite. "You look a little green," said Conrad with concern.

"You should have seen me a few days ago," she mused. "It looks like the contractors finished the upstairs bedroom while I was gone."

"The snow melted just long enough for them to get it done," said Conrad, showing off the space where Ash would sleep once he returned from spending Easter with the Landgraabs. They both glanced out the windows, noting the falling snowflakes beginning to gather on the ground all over again.

Heather smiled. "Even if the snow doesn't want to leave the Bay, it feels like a new beginning. George and June's murder is solved and the town's doing okay. I'm back from vacation. New season. New bedroom."

"We've got new problems...."

Heather cocked her head in confusion. "Rafa still won't cooperate? We didn't have any trouble with cartels in Selvadorada."

"As relieved as I am to hear that, I'm worried they might've gotten to Rafa and it's holding him back. He won't give up Ximena, but I keep trying. I sent Felix to try to talk to him in Sulani after convincing Melissa didn't work."

"Felix is pretty persuasive," she said hopefully. "I saw on Social Bunny he has a new girlfriend."

"He charmed Lilith without much trouble," Conrad agreed with a nod. "But the same lines won't work on Rafa."

"You could always arrest him and force his hand," she reminded him, but she knew her suggestion would fall on deaf ears.

"It's not just Rafa and his sister," he said carefully. He didn't even know where to begin with John Brindleton's town history lesson, so he skipped it - for now. "I talked to Ash about Ben and his dog and he figured out by himself that his accident as a toddler made it possible for him to see ghosts. Felix confirmed it's the most likely explanation."

"Because he was...Oh my Watcher...So he just sees ghosts? Plural? What if they frighten him?"

"He's not even worried about it. Says he's never met a ghost that he didn't think was living. Doesn't even know if he's ever met more than Ben and Captain Whitaker." She leaned into him, feeling dizzy, and Conrad held out a hand to support her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Maybe I should lie down. Jet lag hit me on the way into the jungle, and it'll probably hit me again now that I'm home."

Conrad kissed her and put her to bed, taking Lavender to daycare on his way to work. Heather napped for most of the day, calling her parents to cancel plans to go to Henford for Easter dinner because the thought of spending an hour on the speedy Simmerloop made her feel as green as she looked. "I know Hazel's already in town for the weekend. That's good in case this is a flu or something."

"We're sorry we won't see you, but we just want you to rest if you're sick," said her father, Neal. "We'll miss your cooking, though."

"Maybe we'll make it to Henford for Mother's Day, if things aren't too hectic with the clinic rebuild."

"Get well soon, Buttercup. We love you."

"Love you, too."

She hung up the phone, content after a quick chat with her beloved dad despite her guilt over cancelling holiday plans. But she couldn't dwell for long on her feelings before she raced to the bathroom to be sick.

At work, Conrad was in the break room. While his coworkers talked about plans to celebrate his old partner Josephine's retirement party at the Salty Paw, he pulled himself away when his phone rang. "Felix! How's the beach?"

"It's not Felix." Rafa's tone curdled down the line. "He let me borrow his phone to tell you to screw off."

In the tropics, Felix rocked uncomfortably in his flip flops. "He didn't tell me that's what he wanted to say! I told him he might avoid prison entirely if he gives up his sister and he said he wanted to call you."

"And who the hell are you to promise something like that? You're just some weird lawyer who sounds a hundred years older than he looks!"

"Listen to Felix," Conrad urged, careful not to mention Rafa's name in front of his coworkers. "He's the most experienced attorney I know."

Even though Felix had passed the bar only recently, Conrad was telling the truth. He didn't know any other attorneys who'd practiced law as far back as the early 20th Century.

"If I get off with nothing but a slap on the wrist after selling my own sister up the river, the cartel will come for me, for sure."

"You said yourself they're not concerned with Sulani. I know what I'm asking you, and I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help. She's been all but abandoned by the cartel. I'm sure of it. No one's visited her since she was put behind bars, but you know what she's capable of. You could keep her there, for your benefit as much as mine. Yours and Melissa's."

"You shouldn't have sent her here."

"But you weren't this mad when I did."

"Screw you, Conrad. And stop telling the Ngatas to spy on me. Oliana and her son come by every other day now."

"Maybe they care about you. I know what that's like."

The call ended with a click, and Conrad sighed. He was beginning to think he'd have to bring in the cartel to pressure Ximena, after all, but he didn't relish the possibility in the slightest. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: There was already a sneaky shot of the new bedroom in the Love Day installment because making spring crafts were the only way I knew how to make Valentine's-themed artwork without mods, and I'd already done the reno in the spring save when I wanted to put that shot in.

WCIF Pose: @novapark's Incoming Puke for Heather's bathroom shot. Love it even if Heather is suffering for it; thank you for sharing!

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Can you, maybe possibly do more winx club/fairy! Reader with the chain drabs- 📍(idk if any anon has this emoji but I want it.. whatever they mean)

Yeah, you can have that emoji. Of the people who have asked to be certain anons, none of them have used that emoji. I haven't come in contact with these emoji anons that much, but from what I can gather, they're used to mark a recurring fan who prefers staying anonymous.

--

“I think I see your problem here.”

Now you were by no means an expert on teaching magic, but when Hyrule came to you asking for advice, how could you possibly say ‘no?’ In a way, you were the best person for him to ask. While all members of the Chain have come into contact with magic - and even used it themselves - it was through magic items or fairies (which you were a little horrified to learn they often caught in bottles). Hyrule was the only one to actually harness magic and cast spells.

The two of you were similar in many ways: both of you learned about your magical heritage much later in life than others like you, there was the fact that both of you could transform (even if, like all other fairies of his world, he was much smaller than you), and the fact that you both felt different from the people you grew up around due to your magic.

“You’re trying to force the magic out, but at the same time you’re stifling it.” You spoke as you came closer, letting Hyrule relax his hand. “That kind of polarising pressure doesn’t allow the magic to flow correctly, which could lead to your spell backfiring on you. Believe me, it’s not good for your ego.”

You laughed a little at a memory of some of your first spells going wrong. You have no idea how, but you somehow messed up a spell that would change the colour of your hair. It was literally the first - and easiest - spell they taught you at Alfea and you managed to turn your hair into a technicolour nightmare.

But it seemed like your impromptu magic lesson had to be put on hold.

"[Name], my grappling hook got stuck in a tree and I can't pull it loose." A whiny voice caught your attention. "Can you fly up and get it?"

You know, sometimes you wondered if it wasn't such a good idea to tell these boys about your powers.

"Can't Wild climb up there and get it for you?" You ask a little annoyed. "I'm a little busy right now."

"But I wanted to show Wild a cool trick with it. If I go asking for his help, it'll be embarrassing."

You couldn’t say ‘no’ to that pleading look. Wind’s expressive face had its funny moments, but his puppy dog eyes were like weaponized guilt. Shooting Hyrule a look that said “sorry,” you received a small “it’s fine” in return. You’ll continue your training later.

You let out a sigh, looking up at the tall tree Wind was pointing at, “alright. But if this happens again, you’re on your own.”

“Deal!”

In just a flash of light you had transformed into your fairy form, wings out and fluttering to lift you off the ground. Following the rope, you found the hook stuck high in the branches, not only caught by the tree, but also by the rope itself. The whole thing was a giant knot looping around itself, one that you found hard to see where it began and ended. “Geez, Wind, how did you even manage this?” You groaned as you began pulling the problem apart.

“I was practicing a trick, but it went south.” The boy shouted from below as both he and Hyrule watched you work.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

After what felt like half an hour, you finally managed to untie the thing. Letting out a sigh of relief, you grabbed the metal hook, looped the long rope over and around your shoulder and flew down onto the ground. “Here.” You handed the grappling hook over to a very enthusiastic looking Wind.

“Thanks!” Wind then immediately turned his head away, rushing off somewhere else. “Hey, Wild! I can show it to you now!”

“Kids, am I right?” You laughed to yourself.

“Yeah.” Hyrule chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets all that energy from.”

“Now, where was I-”

You hadn’t even had the chance to detransform before someone shouted your name again. This time it came from Four’s corner of camp, where he, Wars and Legend were busy at a makeshift forging station. “We need a stronger, more stable fire over here.”

“I was doing just fine.” Wars shot back at the small smith. “You asked for a stronger flame and I gave you one.”

“I said a “fire,” not a “blaze!” You nearly singed my eyebrows off!”

Guess Wars really wasn’t quite as good with his control with the Fire Rod as he thought. Whose brilliant idea was it to use a weapon meant for combat for forging, instead? But then again, who asks an Enchantix fairy, a fully fledged Guardian Fairy, to be a living furnace, as if that’s somehow better? Probably the same kind of person who asks that same fairy to get a rope unstuck from a tree.

And the smithing group had devolved into a petty argument while you weren’t paying attention. Maybe this could be your out, let you finally get back to Hyrule. But if you were a betting girl…

You turned your eyes to Time, Sky and Twilight who were sitting around a small fire, watching a kettle of water start to whistle. “Let me guess, you’ve got a request for me, too?”

The oldest thought for a moment before giving you a cheeky smile. “No, but I’m sure Wolfie would appreciate an eye-in-the-sky helping him during his patrol.”

Yeah, it was definitely a mistake to tell them about your powers.

--