#finally I can let the weight of this off my chest

[thesecondhandwoman]

Can u do Vi x Reader. Where Vi was coming home from hanging out with her sister. She saw her girlfriend laying on their shared bed and she was holding Vi’s jacket cutely in her arms and she was cuddling with it with a cute face expression. Vi stared in awe and she said adorable. She came over and try to take it out of her hands but no use. So vi worker her up and she yawned cutely and saw her girlfriend and quickly grabbed Vi’s arm and hugged her and kissed her.

JACKET THEIF

Vi x f!reader

Summary: After a visit with Jinx and Ekko, Vi comes back home, expecting a big welcoming as always from you. But when she doesn’t, she remains confused, looking around and finding you cuddled up with her jacket.

Request: anonymous

Vi trudged up the creaky staircase to her apartment, the worn steps groaning under her boots. The visit with Jinx and Ekko had been… eventful, as usual. Jinx was her usual chaotic self, and Ekko had been quick to remind her how overdue she was on catching up with other stuff the two have done. It was good to see them, but as much as Vi loved her family, especially after everything that has happened, nothing beats coming home to you after a long day.

Pushing the door open, Vi stepped inside and let it close behind her with a quiet click. She kicked off her boots and shrugged off the weight of the day.

“Babe?” she called, her raspy voice breaking the quiet.

No response.

Vi frowned. You were usually quick to greet her, a ball of energy running into her arms, peppering her face with kisses. She scanned the room, her eyes softening when she saw the faint glow from the bedroom.

Noting this, she padded quietly toward the door.

And there you were.

Curled up in a cocoon of blankets on the bed, you were the picture of peace. Your face was partially hidden by the thick folds of fabric, your expression serene as you slept. But what really made Vi stop in her tracks was the leather jacket clutched tightly in your arms.

Her leather jacket.

Vi’s heart melted on the spot. The sight of you cuddling her jacket like a child with a teddy bear, your face nuzzled into the worn material, sent a warmth through her chest that nothing else could.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re gonna drool on it,” she murmured under her breath, stepping closer.

The floor creaked faintly beneath her as she approached the bed. Carefully, Vi knelt down and reached for the jacket, her fingers brushing against your hands as she tried to ease it free.

But you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met hers, your entire face lit up.

“Vi!” you squealed, tossing the jacket aside in favor of launching yourself at her.

Vi let out a surprised laugh as you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her down onto the bed with you. She stumbled, but the sound of your laughter and the feel of your lips pressing excited kisses to her cheek made her forget everything else.

“You’re back!” you said, your voice muffled as you buried your face in her neck.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Vi chuckled, wrapping her arms around you. “But you’re supposed to be sleeping, not stealing my jacket, ya little thief.”

“It smells like you,” you mumbled, pouting slightly as you leaned back to look at her. “And I missed you.”

Vi’s grin softened, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you too, babe. But that’s no excuse to drool on my stuff.”

You gasped in mock outrage, lightly swatting her shoulder. “I don’t drool!”

Vi smirked. “Mm-hmm, sure you don’t.”

Before you could argue, she tackled you back onto the bed, her laughter mingling with yours as the two of you wrestled for a moment, the jacket forgotten on the floor.

When the laughter finally died down, you lay curled up in her arms, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“Welcome home,” you whispered sleepily.

Vi tightened her hold on you, her lips brushing against your hair. “Mm, glad to be home when you are in it...”

“Likewise, baby.” You cooed as you both tangled up in eachothers’ warmth, relaxing until you two drifted back asleep.

Note: Sorry that this is a bit short, it was kinda rushed, but I hope y’all like it!

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Future In Our Hands

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (fingering��p giving, morning sex)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: well… that’s it. my first baby all grown up. i actually cannot believe it’s over yall, genuinely. i love all of you so much, i love dani so much, i love dani and paige so much—like how’re we supposed to say goodbye…. anyways thank you all for your support on this fic, take me to church will always, always have a special place in my heart. ALSO! i’m planing to write an epilogue, so i want you guys to send in some ideas of what you might wanna see in that!! i love you all so much, onto the next 🫡

JUST LIKE DANI thought they’d be, things are different now—but also so much better. After leaving her father’s house, she stayed with the Bueckers for a few weeks. They were kind, welcoming, and unwaveringly supportive, but Dani knew it couldn’t last forever. Paige’s family has their own lives, and—no matter how much they told her she wasn’t—Dani didn’t want to intrude. So when her Aunt Julia offered her a place, Dani accepted, moving into her aunt’s modest apartment just outside the city.

It’s been over a month now, and things are good—really good. Julia and Dani have grown close, almost like they’re making up for lost time. Dani feels lighter in this space, unburdened by judgment or fear. And then there’s Grey, Julia’s son. The baby has taken to Dani in a way that’s mutual and immediate; his face lights up every time she walks into the room, and Dani finds herself softening in his presence in ways she never thought possible. For the first time in years, she feels like she belongs somewhere.

The alarm on Dani’s phone blares, slicing through the comfortable silence of her new bedroom. She groans, reaching blindly to shut it off, and Paige groans along with her. Dani’s hand finds the phone, and she presses the button with more force than necessary, silencing the obnoxious buzz. The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t last long.

Behind her, Paige stirs, nuzzling closer until her face is buried against Dani’s neck. Her arms tighten around Dani’s waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of Dani’s sweatshirt to rest warm and solid against her bare stomach.

Dani lets out a breath, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breathing against her skin. “We gotta get up,” she murmurs, though the words lack any real urgency.

Paige responds by shaking her head, her voice muffled. “Noooo. Just a few more minutes.”

Dani huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. “P…”

But before she can say more, Paige groans dramatically and shifts her weight, rolling fully on top of Dani. She’s warm, all long limbs and lazy strength, her hands sliding up Dani’s sides as she tucks her face against Dani’s neck again. Her lips brush against the sensitive skin there, leaving soft, barely-there kisses that make Dani’s heart stumble in her chest.

Dani sighs, her hands coming up to rest on Paige’s hips. “Paige, we’re graduating in a couple hours.”

Paige makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, finally lifting her head to look down at Dani. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, but she’s smiling in that lopsided way that always makes Dani’s stomach flip.

“What time is it?” Paige asks, her voice scratchy and low.

“9:30,” Dani says, trying to keep her tone firm.

Paige scoffs. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til 11:30. We got time.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige leans down, her lips brushing against Dani’s in a kiss that’s soft and lingering at first. Dani melts into it instinctively, her hands sliding up Paige’s back, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.

The kiss deepens, shedding its softness in favor of something needier, hungrier. Dani feels Paige’s weight pressing down on her, grounding her in the moment, the exhaustion they’d both been clinging to dissipating like mist under the heat building between them. Paige tilts her head to angle the kiss just right, her lips sliding against Dani’s with purpose. There’s nothing rushed about it, but there’s an urgency to the way Paige grips Dani’s waist, her fingers splaying against bare skin like she’s memorizing the shape of her.

And then Paige shifts her hips just so, grinding down in a way that steals the breath from Dani’s lungs. Dani gasps against Paige’s lips, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders, and she feels rather than hears the soft hum of satisfaction Paige makes in response.

It’s just enough to spark something deep inside her, enough for her body to react instinctively. Dani’s hips buck up to meet Paige’s, the friction making her head spin, and before she knows it, her arms are around Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige adjusts, settling fully between Dani’s legs, her weight a warm and steady pressure that has Dani’s pulse thrumming wildly.

The hand Paige had been using to grip Dani’s waist slides up, her palm skimming the curve of Dani’s side and brushing just under the swell of her chest. It’s light, barely there, but it sends a shiver coursing through Dani all the same. Paige feels it—of course she does—and her lips curl into a smirk against Dani’s mouth before she dips her head to trail kisses along Dani’s jaw, her breath hot against sensitive skin.

“P…” Dani breathes, her voice shaky.

Paige doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Her lips press against the spot just below Dani’s ear, lingering long enough to make Dani squirm beneath her. “Hmm?” Paige hums, her tone teasing, almost lazy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Dani.

“Paige,” Dani tries again, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in Paige’s messy blonde hair. She tugs lightly, just enough to make Paige lift her head and meet her gaze. Paige’s eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown wide, and the sight sends another jolt of heat through Dani.

“We’re—” Dani swallows hard, trying to focus, but it’s almost impossible with Paige looking at her like that, with Paige’s hand still skimming her side, her hips still pressed so perfectly against Dani’s. “We’re gonna be late,” she manages, though it comes out far weaker than she intended.

Paige grins, the kind of grin that’s all mischief and affection rolled into one. “We got time,” she says, her voice low and certain. And then she’s insistently reconnecting their mouths, lips sliding together perfectly, teeth clashing just slightly. Dani’s eyes flutter shut as she continues kissing the blonde, feeling Paige’s hands begin to trail downward. They slide along Dani’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her skin, almost teasing. It makes Dani squirm a little until Paige’s fingers brush along the waistband of the pair of Paige’s basketball shorts Dani wore to bed.

Without Paige even asking anything, Dani’s nodding against her, hips shifting. They’re on a time crunch, so if they’re gonna do this, they gotta do it fast. Paige grins against Dani’s lips—probably at her eagerness—before sliding her fingers under the shorts and Dani’s panties in one go.

Dani gasps just slightly as Paige’s fingers reach for her clit, the blonde humming against her lips as she begins to circle the bud. Paige’s mouth disconnects from Dani’s, her lips skimming over her jawline and along her neck. “Mmm,” she hums against Dani’s ear. “So wet, Dan.”

Dani feels her cheeks heat at the words, heat flushing through her face down to her core. She whimpers a little at Paige’s slow circling of her clit, bucking her hips enough to let her know she needs more. Paige understands immediately, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside Dani, the slickness of her making the motion almost effortless. The sound that follows is, indeed, sinful—the obscene wet noises filling the otherwise quiet room, making Dani’s stomach tighten with a renewed wave of arousal.

Paige groans a little, pulling back from Dani’s neck. She grabs at the brunette’s shorts with her free hand, pushing them down so she can see her fingers working, eyes locking onto her digits moving in and out of Dani’s cunt and the way Dani’s body arches up into her. Dani watches Paige watch, catching the blonde bite her lip, eyes almost glazing over as her fingers slide inside Dani.

It makes Dani whimper, her hips instinctively pushing back against Paige’s fingers. “Mmph… please…” she mumbles, not really sure what she’s begging for, but the need in her tone seems to spur Paige on.

Paige responds immediately, thrusting her fingers deeper, curling them just enough to hit that spongy spot inside Dani that makes her gasp loudly. Dani feels Paige’s free hand move back up her body, under her sweatshirt to squeeze at her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Paige’s lips find Dani’s neck again, too, biting down lightly before sucking a mark into her skin.

Dani cries out a little at the sensation, her body trembling as the pleasure begins to overwhelm her. “God, P,” she moans, voice ragged.

She feels Paige grin against her neck once more, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles back on her clit. “Like that?” Paige whispers, breath hot against Dani’s skin.

Dani just nods, her breath hitching as she struggles to respond. “Yeah,” she finally manages to gasp out, her hips moving in time with Paige’s fingers. “Just like that.”

Dani bites down onto her lip hard, probably enough to draw blood, keeping herself in check because she has absolutely no interest in her aunt hearing her moan Paige’s name. Paige’s fingers are just relentless as they thrust in and out, the wet sounds between them growing louder and more obscene with every second. Dani feels Paige moan against her neck and that, along with the curling of Paige’s fingers, has Dani’s brows furrowing together, eyes scrunching closed, her whole body tightening.

“’M close,” Dani whimpers breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as her nails dig into Paige’s back.

Dani feels Paige’s fingers press even harder at her words, scissoring inside her, angling them just right. “Come on, Dan,” Paige encourages. “Wanna feel it.”

That‘a all it seems to take. With a muffled moan, Dani’s body goes taut, her muscles contracting around Paige’s fingers as she cums hard, her hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over her. Paige holds her tightly, her fingers slowing just enough to guide Dani through her orgasm, her lips still pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, her body finally going limp as she collapses back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

Paige smirks down at her, slipping her fingers out. Paige presses a gentle kiss to Dani’s jaw, then her lips, then her nose, then the spot between her eyebrows before pulling back so she’s eye-to-eye with the girl. “Now it’s time to get up,” she says, cheesing.

Dani rolls her eyes, slapping at Paige’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”

THE FINAL APPLAUSE feels like it echoes forever, reverberating around the crowded football field. Dani sits there in the plastic chair, the edges of the graduation gown stiff against her arms, her cap threatening to slip off her head. She doesn’t move. Around her, classmates are already standing, hugging, and tossing their caps into the air, but Dani feels rooted in place.

It’s over.

Her childhood—whatever was left of it—has officially ended.

That’s the only thought looping in her head. The years she spent on cramped bleachers, in loud cafeterias, on basketball courts that smelled like old wood and sweat—all of it is behind her now. Her chest feels heavy with something she can’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Fear? She shakes it off and stands, taking a deep breath that doesn’t fill her lungs the way she wants it to.

When the crowd begins to disperse, she finally spots Paige a few rows over, standing tall and blonde and unmistakable in her blue gown. Thaliah is next to her, smirking as she bats Paige’s hands away from the crooked cap on her head. Dani weaves through the sea of gowns, her own steps feeling distant and mechanical. But when she reaches them, her grin comes naturally.

“Look at us,” Thaliah says, throwing her arms around both Dani and Paige, drawing them into a three-person hug. Her grin is wide. “All grown up!”

Dani chuckles, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Finally free,” she agrees, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Thaliah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, free to do what? Work? Be an adult? Ugh.”

Dani doesn’t answer because her eyes are drawn to Paige, who’s blinking quickly, her lashes wet. Dani’s smile softens as she takes in the way Paige’s lower lip wobbles just slightly before she sucks it between her teeth.

“Aww, babe,” Dani says, her voice teasing but fond. She steps closer, brushing her thumb under Paige’s eye to catch a tear before it can fall.

“I’m not crying,” Paige says immediately, sniffing and straightening her shoulders like she can will the emotion away.

“You’re totally crying,” Thaliah chimes in, her grin wicked. “Somebody get a camera!”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I ain’t crying!”

“You are,” Dani teases, her hand lingering against Paige’s cheek before letting it fall back to her side.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with a twitch of a smile.

The three of them laugh then, the kind of laughter that feels bigger than the moment. It’s a release, a shared acknowledgment of everything they’ve been through together and everything that’s ahead of them. Dani lets it wash over her, lets herself feel the warmth of it as they shuffle out into the packed hallway.

The noise is overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera flashes and the occasional squeal from someone who’s just spotted their family. Dani’s chest tightens briefly, but she shakes it off. This is supposed to be a happy day. She forces herself to focus on the here and now.

“Alright, I’m off,” Thaliah announces, clapping them both on the shoulder. “If I don’t get to my mom soon, she’s gonna start yelling my full name in front of everyone, and we can’t have that.” She gives the pair one last grin before disappearing through the crowd.

Paige stays close as they navigate through the throng of people, her hand brushing Dani’s back as they walk. Dani can feel the slight tremor in Paige’s energy, the kind that only comes when Paige is overwhelmed, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she nudges Paige gently with her elbow, and Paige gives her a grateful smile.

They find Paige’s family first. Her mom is the first person Dani notices, standing near the bleachers with a wide smile and arms open. Lauren, Ryan, and Drew are bouncing on their toes, waving furiously when they spot Paige. Bob is chatting animatedly with Paige’s grandparents, and her aunt is juggling a camera and a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.

“Paige!” Lauren squeals, launching herself at her older sister the second she’s within reach. Paige laughs, catching her and spinning her around before setting her down. Ryan and Drew both aren’t far behind, wrapping their arms around Paige’s waist and clinging like a little koalas.

Dani watches it all unfold, a small smile tugging at her lips. It’s a lot, seeing all of them there, so many people who love Paige and want to celebrate her. A small pang settles in her chest, but she pushes it aside quickly.

She doesn’t have to look far for her own family. Julia is standing just a few feet away, holding baby Grey on her hip, her smile soft and full of pride. Dani’s grandparents are beside her, their expressions warm and welcoming. It’s quieter, simpler, but no less meaningful.

Julia’s arms are open before Dani even realizes she’s moving, and she steps into the hug, letting herself sink into the familiarity of it. “I’m so proud of you, Dani,” Julia whispers into her ear, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hit harder than Dani expects, her throat tightening as she blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She pulls back after a moment, forcing a smile as she meets Julia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

Grey babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Dani with chubby hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she takes him into her arms. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, bouncing him slightly. He giggles, his tiny hands grabbing at the tassel on her cap.

Her grandparents step forward next, wrapping her in hugs that smell like lavender and old books, murmuring their congratulations with quiet pride. Dani’s smile feels a little steadier now, a little more natural.

It’s not perfect. It’s not what she used to imagine this day would look like. There’s an emptiness where her parents should be, a hollow ache she tries not to focus on. But looking at Julia’s warm smile, Grey’s wide eyes, and her grandparents’ unwavering support, she decides it’s enough.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Dani turns to find Bob, Paige’s dad, leaning in for a hug. His grin is kind and effortless, the kind that makes Dani feel seen, like she belongs. She melts into the embrace, letting him clap her on the back as she smiles against his shoulder.

“Look at you!” he exclaims as they pull back. “High school graduate. You’ve done good, Dan.”

Her grin widens. Bob’s probably the closest thing she has to a dad these days, and she’s grateful for how steady he’s always been, how he’s never made her feel out of place. “Thanks, Bob.”

Before she can say more, Amy swoops in, wrapping Dani in a tight hug that smells like fresh laundry and perfume. “Aw, Dani, all grown up!” Amy squeals, pulling back to hold Dani by the shoulders and give her a good once-over. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Dani laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t cry, Amy. Paige’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Amy laughs, her hands squeezing Dani’s shoulders briefly before she lets go. “No promises.”

Dani makes her way down the line, crouching slightly to hug Paige’s little siblings. Lauren and Ryan and Drew all beam at her, their arms wrapping around her tightly. Drew leans into her side, his small voice eager as he says, “You’re coming to the cookout after, right?”

“Of course,” Dani says, ruffling his hair before pulling Lauren in for a quick squeeze. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

When she stands, she feels a hand slide into hers, warm and familiar. Paige is there, her blue eyes soft as she looks at Dani, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay,” Amy says suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s directing a photoshoot. “I need pictures!”

Paige groans, loud and exaggerated, her head tilting back like this is the most torturous request in the world. “Mom, come on—”

“No complaints!” Amy cuts her off, already holding up her phone. “This is a big day! Paige, Dani, come on.”

Paige rolls her eyes but grins as she tugs Dani closer by the hand. Dani follows easily, letting Paige guide her until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. Paige’s arm wraps around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Dani’s hip, and Dani lets her own hand settle comfortably against Paige’s back. They tilt their heads together instinctively, their smiles wide and natural as the first flash goes off.

One photo turns into three, then four, and Dani quickly loses track of how many cameras are aimed at them. Both of Paige’s parents are taking pictures, as are their grandparents, Julia, and Paige’s aunt. It feels like every angle is covered, and Dani doesn’t even know where to look at this point.

“Oh, wait, wait!” Julia exclaims suddenly, waving her free hand while balancing Grey on her hip. “Take one showing the caps!”

Dani and Paige both blink at her, confused for a moment before they realize what she means. “Oh!” Paige says, reaching up to tug her cap off. “Yeah, yeah.”

Dani does the same, pulling her cap off and holding it in her hands. When she glances over at Paige, she can’t help but laugh. “Ooh, cap head,” she teases, nodding toward Paige’s hair, which is flattened awkwardly where the cap had been.

Paige narrows her eyes at her, a mock glare that doesn’t last long. “Fix it.”

“Please,” Dani corrects, smirking as she leans in to do just that—fix the mess. Her fingers comb through the strands of blonde until Paige’s hair looks normal again. Paige huffs but doesn’t pull away, her lips twitching upward in the smallest smile.

When Dani’s satisfied, she steps back, only to feel Paige’s hand brushing against her own hair. “Hang on,” Paige mutters, her fingers quick and sure as they smooth out Dani’s own cap-induced disaster.

Once they’ve both deemed each other photo-ready, they angle their caps toward the cameras, holding them up so the bedazzled designs are clearly visible. UConn logos sparkle under the sun, the rhinestones they painstakingly glued on last night catching every flash.

“Go Huskies!” Amy cheers from behind the phone, her voice bright with pride as the camera clicks again.

Dani feels her grin stretch impossibly wider. In that moment, she forgets about the ache in her chest, the absence of her parents, the uncertainty of the future. All she feels is this—Paige’s arm warm around her waist, their friends and family laughing and cheering, and the glimmer of the UConn logos they’ll carry with them into the next chapter of their lives.

THE NIGHT feels heavy in the best way—cool air brushing against Paige’s skin, her hoodie soft against her arms, and the low hum of cicadas filling the spaces between quiet laughter. It’s dark now, the kind of dark that stretches across the park like a blanket, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlamp by the parking lot and the stars above. The four of them—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen—are settled into their usual spots at the park they’ve claimed since what feels like forever. The basketball court has cracks they know like the backs of their hands, the picnic table has their initials carved into the wood, and everything about it feels like home.

Paige leans against the basketball hoop, dribbling lazily as Jalen sets up for a halfhearted shot. He misses—terribly—and Paige laughs, grabbing the rebound and tossing the ball back to him. “Bro,” she teases, “you might need to rethink that NBA dream.”

Jalen points at her, mock offended. “You laugh now, but when I’m in the league, you’re not getting courtside tickets.”

“Good,” Paige fires back with a grin. “I’ll be too busy winning nattys at UConn anyway.”

The words feel easy, automatic, but they carry a weight she’s only just starting to realize. UConn. Storrs. It’s been this abstract, glittering thing for so long, but now it’s real—a fresh start, a new chapter. Summer sessions start in just a couple weeks. Basketball in the basketball capital of the world. And Dani. Dani will be there too.

She glances toward the picnic table, where Dani’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Thaliah, both of them half-focused on Thaliah’s phone. Milkshakes sit abandoned on the table, sweating in the humid air, and Dani’s curled hair falls into her face as she leans closer to the screen. Paige watches her for a moment, her grin softening into something quieter.

“Aye,” Jalen says, nudging Paige with his elbow and smirking a little. “You good?”

“Hm?” Paige blinks, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.” She spins the basketball once, catching it easily. “Just thinking about how much better I am than you.”

Jalen groans. “Aight, thin ice, Bueckers.”

Paige laughs, tossing the ball his way before walking toward the table, her curiosity piqued by whatever has Dani and Thaliah so engrossed. She hops up onto the bench beside Dani, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What’s so fascinating?”

Thaliah glances up briefly, holding her phone out so Paige can see. “My roommate at UCLA,” she says, scrolling through an Instagram profile of a girl with tanned skin and lots of beach photos. “She’s already from Cali, so.”

“Hmm,” Paige hums, tilting her head as she studies the photos. “She seems chill.”

“I think so too,” Dani agrees.

Thaliah nods. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’ve been texting. She’s into film, which gives us somethin’ in common, and she’s already invited me to a festival this fall. I think we’re gonna get along.”

Paige nods at the words before watching Dani groan dramatically, leaning her head against Thaliah’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be in sunny LA while I’m stuck in Storrs with this creature.” She gestures lazily in Paige’s direction without looking up.

“Aye!” Paige exclaims, feigning offense. She ruffles Dani’s curls lightly, earning an indignant squawk. “Watch that mouth.”

Dani swats at Paige’s hand but grins, leaning back in her seat, humming, “Mhm.”

Paige smirks. “It’ll be fun, you know it.”

“Debatable,” Dani shoots back, but there’s a warmth in her tone that makes Paige’s chest feel strangely tight.

Jalen finally joins them, the basketball tucked under one arm. He stands behind them, leaning over to try and get a glimpse. “What’re we looking at?”

“My future roomie,” Thaliah says, holding up her phone again.

Jalen squints at the screen, then nods approvingly. “Damn. She fine.”

Dani bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her milkshake as Thaliah groans and mutters something about boys being predictable. Paige just shakes her head, leaning back on the bench and letting the easy rhythm of their banter wash over her. It’s moments like this, she thinks, that she’s going to miss most.

But then Dani’s hand brushes against hers, her fingers curling briefly around Paige’s, and she thinks maybe she doesn’t have to miss it. Not really. Not when Dani’s right here, and when tomorrow, and every day after, will start with both of them heading toward the same place. Together.

Jalen’s phone buzzes on the bench, the screen lighting up with a notification. Paige notices it before he does and glances over, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he picks it up and reads the message. “Ah, man,” he says, standing and shoving the phone into his pocket. “My mom’s tellin’ me to get home. Graduation tomorrow and all.”

Thaliah stretches, groaning a little as she stands. “Guess I’m out too, then. He’s my ride.”

Paige frowns, tilting her head at them. “Wow, ditching us already?”

Thaliah smirks as she grabs her jacket. “Hey, not all of us can be completely irresponsible. Some of us have families that enforce things like curfews and sleep schedules.”

“Lame,” Paige teases, but she stands to hug Jalen, patting him on the back. “Congrats ahead of time, though. Have fun tomorrow.”

Jalen grins, hugging her back.

Thaliah waves as they head toward the parking lot, leaving Paige and Dani alone on the weathered wooden bench. The night feels quieter now, though not uncomfortable—just different. The cicadas hum in the trees, and the faint smell of grass and pavement lingers in the air. Paige lets herself enjoy the moment for a second, her gaze drifting over to Dani.

Dani sits quietly, staring out at the court, her expression unreadable. It’s the kind of stillness Dani falls into sometimes, where Paige knows she’s in her head about something but won’t say what.

Paige stands, grabbing the basketball from beside her and turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels familiar and grounding. “Play with me?”

Dani turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Play with me,” Paige repeats, her tone lighter, teasing. She bounces the ball once against the ground for emphasis.

Dani snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Paige grins, holding the ball against her hip.

“Uh-uh,” Dani protests, shaking her head. “We both know how that’ll end.”

“And?” Paige arches a brow.

Dani doesn’t move, her expression skeptical. Paige rolls her eyes, stepping closer and grabbing Dani’s hand, tugging her to her feet. Dani resists for about half a second before giving in with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Dani mutters.

“Yep.” Paige leads her toward the court, the basketball bouncing lightly in her other hand.

Once they’re on the court, Paige dribbles a couple of times before passing the ball to Dani. “1v1,” she says, her voice challenging.

Dani catches the ball awkwardly, holding it for a moment as she stares at Paige. “This is stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. “We both know who’s gonna win.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige replies, dropping into a defensive stance. “C’mon. Play.”

With a small shake of her head, Dani starts to dribble—slowly, clumsily. The ball bounces unevenly against the pavement, and Paige bites back a laugh. She gives Dani a few seconds before darting in to steal the ball.

Dani yelps and pulls the ball to her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around it like it’s a lifeline.

“That is illegal!” Paige exclaims, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.

“Then quit tryna take it from me!” Dani fires back, her voice half-laughing, half-exasperated as she shifts away from Paige.

Paige grins, circling around Dani like a shark. “Aight, fine. If you wanna be like that, we can be like that.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige lunges, trying to pry the ball free. When that doesn’t work, her fingers find their way to Dani’s ribs, tickling mercilessly.

Dani shrieks, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably. “Paige! Stop!” she yells, twisting and turning to escape, but Paige keeps going, grinning against her ear.

“This… is… definitely… a… foul!” Dani manages between gasps, her laughter growing louder as her grip on the ball falters.

“Don’t care,” Paige replies, her voice smug as she tickles harder. Dani’s back presses into Paige’s chest as she struggles, her legs wobbling beneath her.

Paige spins the brunette around, her fingers relentless against Dani’s ribs, tickling so hard that Dani’s squealing, “Paige!” nearly collapsing under the weight of her laughter.

Finally, Paige relents, stepping back as the basketball slips from Dani’s grasp and rolls across the court. Dani leans against Paige, panting and giggling, her forehead pressing lightly into Paige’s chest.

“I hate you,” Dani mutters breathlessly, swatting weakly at Paige’s hoodie.

Paige just grins, her hands settling on Dani’s hips. “Nah, you don’t.”

Dani pulls back slightly, glaring up at her with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replies, her voice softer now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. Paige’s grin widens, her hand sliding upward to cup Dani’s jaw. Her thumb brushes lightly against Dani’s cheek as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon, Dan, you don’t hate me.”

Dani rolls her eyes, relenting. Paige thinks she hears her breath catch. “No, I don’t.”

And then Paige tilts her head, her lips brushing against Dani’s, soft at first, as if feeling the rhythm of the moment. But then, the hesitation fades. Paige presses forward, coaxing Dani’s lips to part, and with a quiet, deep inhale, her tongue slips into Dani’s mouth.

Paige feels Dani’s mouth opening slightly more, a sigh escaping her lips. She shifts closer, hands sliding down from Paige’s chest to her sides, pulling them tighter together, the warmth of her body mingling with Paige’s. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing slightly.

Paige’s hand on Dani’s hip trails downward, fingers slipping, finding purchase on the curve of her ass. She squeezes lightly, feeling the taut muscle beneath her fingertips, and that small movement has Dani grinning against her lips, the playful smirk against Paige’s mouth making Paige’s stomach flip.

Paige lets out a soft laugh through the kiss, a breathless sound, but she doesn’t pull away. She deepens the kiss instead, her fingers pressing a little harder, pulling Dani closer still. It’s like a slow burn, the way their bodies are melting together, hot and heavy but not frantic.

Paige takes her time. She lets her lips linger, firm but careful, savoring the way Dani responds. There’s a heat between them, an energy that buzzes under Paige’s skin, but she reins it in, keeps it simmering just beneath the surface. This moment isn’t about rushing forward—it’s about Dani, about the way she fits so perfectly in Paige’s hands, the way her lips feel impossibly soft and warm, the way she melts into the kiss.

Dani shifts slightly, her hands sliding up from Paige’s chest to loop around her neck. It pulls Paige down further, and she lets it happen, leaning into the touch, into Dani. The kiss slows for a beat, their lips brushing more gently now, like the initial spark has given way to something softer, something steadier.

Paige pulls back just an inch, her forehead resting against Dani’s. She opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of Dani—her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded and searching—nearly takes her breath away.

“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and a little unsteady.

Dani blinks up at her, her fingers still playing lightly with the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she looks at Paige—like she’s seeing her for the first time and yet has always known her—says everything.

Paige feels her phone buzz against her skin, the vibration pulling her reluctantly out of the moment, out of Dani’s warmth. She lets out a soft breath of frustration, but she’s still not ready to fully pull away. Her hand stays on Dani’s ass, fingers tracing the curve of her hip in a way that keeps their bodies pressed together.

She pulls the phone from her pocket with a sigh, glancing at the screen, but the feeling of Dani still so close, so tangible, is enough to make her hold on just a moment longer. It’s a message from her dad asking if she and Dani want to come back and watch a movie with Drew, Ryan, and Lauren.

She shifts the phone to face Dani, letting her read it for herself. The light from the screen illuminates their faces, casting soft shadows across Dani’s features. For a second, Paige just looks at her, at the way Dani’s brow furrows slightly in thought as she processes the message, and then the way her lips curve into that familiar smile that always does something to Paige’s chest.

“You wanna?” Paige asks quietly, her voice soft but steady, letting Dani know she’s willing to go along with whatever she decides.

Dani looks at the message and then up at Paige, smiling just a little—like the smallest of secrets are being shared. She nods, and that small gesture makes Paige’s heart skip just a little.

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s chest tighten with affection. “Let’s go.”

Paige smiles back, the warmth spreading in her chest, and presses one last kiss to the corner of Dani’s mouth. It’s soft, lingering for a second longer than it probably should, but Paige can’t help it. She can’t help but savor the taste of Dani, the way her lips feel like home. It’s like everything before this—before the arguing, before the space between them, before all the pain—has led to this.

This moment. This kiss. And everything that comes after it.

When she pulls back just a fraction, still feeling the heat of Dani’s skin under her hands, Paige wraps her arm around Dani’s waist and guides them back toward the picnic table. Her fingers graze the soft curve of Dani’s waist, a quiet gesture of possession, of love, of a future they haven’t yet fully realized but are starting to piece together.

They collect their milkshakes, Paige grabbing both cups, offering Dani her Oreo one, who takes it with a grateful, quiet smile, and they walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step. They don’t say much, the silence between them comfortable, an unspoken understanding that fills the space where words aren’t needed. There’s no pressure, no rush, just the steady rhythm of their footsteps as they head back.

Side by side, they walk back to Paige’s house, their bodies pressed close enough that the warmth between them is constant, never faltering. Neither of them speaks much, but the air between them feels thick with the weight of it all—the unspoken words, the shared memories, the connection that neither of them can deny anymore. They walk in sync, like they’ve always been meant to, and Paige finds that she doesn’t need words to fill the space.

The familiar sights of their neighborhood pass by, the houses and the trees, the sound of their feet on the pavement, the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. They pass Dani’s dad’s house, and neither of them looks at it. Paige’s mind briefly flickers to that house, to the past, to the pain that had lingered there for so long, but it’s all behind them now. That part of their lives is a closed door, and neither of them needs to open it again.

They reach the front door of Paige’s house, and Paige can’t help but glance at Dani as she opens it. The door opens with a soft creak, and for a brief moment, Paige holds the door open with one hand while she rests her forehead against Dani’s. It’s a simple thing, but there’s something about it, something about the way Dani’s body fits against hers, something about the softness of her skin under Paige’s touch that makes it all feel like it’s meant to be.

And in that moment, Paige knows, without a doubt, that everything before this was just the beginning. Because this—this is their forever.

Then, Lauren calls for them both from inside, telling their names. Dani grins up at Paige, murmuring, “C’mon,” pulling her inside.

And as they step inside the house, with their hands still intertwined, the door closes softly behind them, sealing shut their childhoods, their high school days, and all the ups and downs that surrounded them. The future’s wide open, and Paige and Dani are ready to take that step into it.

[ofbatsandballads]

darling, won’t you take me home?

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: reader has a mild cold, but nothing much else (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is just a lighthearted sick fic that got real prose-y at the end bc I was listening to my Jason playlist and got all in my feelings while drowsy off cold medicine. again, i give thee my wares.

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You wake to soft light filtering in through the white curtains of your bedroom and the warm weight of your lover’s arm across your waist. The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose. And you usually don’t feel like there’s sandpaper in your throat. And your body doesn’t usually feel this heavy.

Goddamn it–you’re sick.

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest. You think he might be able to doze back off and you’re glad for it. Then your hopes are dashed. One, two, three sneezes wrack your body in succession and you are finally forced to admit defeat.

“Are you sneezing?” Jason asks, groggy but inquiring.

“…no.”

You don’t even know why you tried to lie to him. You’re a bad liar in most cases, and an absolutely abysmal liar when it comes to Jason. He simply sighs and you’d bet twenty dollars that he’s rolling those pretty seafoam eyes of his. He easily turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him. Great, now you really won’t be able to lie to him.

“I told ya that you were gettin’ sick,” he scolds gently.

“‘M not sick!”

He did. And you are.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He tries to keep his face serious, but soon the facade cracks and he lets out a deep belly laugh as you glare at him. You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again.

“Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble, your words trailing off unintelligibly.

Jason doesn’t miss it. He never does. Fucking vigilantes and their fine tuned hearing.

“What was that?” he smirks.

You whisper it again, quiet as a mouse. He shakes his head. You smack him in the chest.

“Ah ah, I wanna hear it,” he laughs.

“I said you were right! There! You happy now?” you pout, burying your head in his chest.

You can feel the giggles travel through his body and find it impossible to fight the smile it brings to your face, even if your head feels foggier than Gotham after a heavy rain. You squeeze him tight, a sudden aggressive love for him that you just need to let out. It does nothing to his strong frame. He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

“C’mon, we’re makin’ soup.”

One thing about Jason Todd is that he’s an amazing cook. He didn’t cook much for himself before he met you. He’s told you he didn’t see any point when cheap takeout would fuel his body just fine for whatever fight was inevitably coming for him. But now he has both the reason and the time to care. And he cares. So much.

You can see it in the way he sets the chicken to bake while he tells you about the new book he got from the bookstore down the block. You can see it in the way his skilled hands, calloused and bruised, slice the carrots razor thin because he knows you hate the crunch of them. You can see it in the barely noticeable look of pride on his face as all the ingredients simmer in the big metal pot, giving your shared home a warm aroma of comfort. You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

“I know you probably aren’t too hungry, but I need you to try to eat at least one bowl for me,” he says in his gentlest negotiation voice as he puts a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter.

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

“And you’re takin’ cold medicine the second you get some food in you.”

He’s not asking anymore, just stating facts.

“Gonna stay up all night watching me too?” you ask teasingly.

“I might,” he retorts.

“I love you too, Jay.”

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this. You tell him as much just to watch the soft pink turn to vibrant red.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

One bowl of soup and a disgusting shot of cold medicine later, you find yourself wrapped in the arms of your lover as you both lounge on the couch. Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

You may not be a vigilante or The World’s Greatest Detective, but you can put all the pieces of the day together well enough. Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough. But the words are enough for you. You swear that you’ll go to your grave finding all the prettiest ways to tell him just how much you love him. Because you do.

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

[nemisuki]

Good Soup

Fantasy AU | In a world of whimsical wonders and magic, the only thing you're curious about is why the blonde suddenly got shy at a simple goodnight. The language barrier between them is what keeps them closer. 

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, no angst, aged up, mutual feelings, split pov, language barriers, bkg learning english, silly bestie kirishima included, love confessions gone wrong, oneshot, bkg is a softie, 2.1k word count

"Go on! You can do it!"

An encouraging smile forms on her face. Her hands clasping together as she practically jumps up and down from mere excitement that he finally agreed to her request. 

Her eyes are completely on him, not wanting to look away. 

It takes a moment for Bakugo to register her words. Attempting to recall what she's been teaching him. 

He assumes she's saying something encouraging, given that bright smile of hers.

He can't believe he's doing this. If it was anyone else he wouldn't even be attempting this shit. But one look at her excited expression made his mind think otherwise.

Plus she's been bothering him about this for weeks now. 

Under his breath, he grumbles a handful of curses in his native language, courtesy of his tribe. He switches his weight onto the other foot, crossing his arms over his chest.

She is quick to notice his sudden fidgeting. A sign of discomposure.

But she thinks it's charming. So she'll keep it to herself.

Y/N takes a step forward in his direction, softening her eyes at the sight of him. Realizing she may have unknowingly put too much pressure on him, "Oh I'm sorry! You don't have too, if you don't want to-"

"N-ɳαɱҽ.... αɾҽ... Bαƙυɠσ Kαƚʂυƙι...."

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

Her heart hastens at the sound of his deep voice. His slow and hesitant words echoing in her ear. The foreign accent made her skin tingle with bliss.

After his words, she lets a few giggles escape her lips. Not directed at him, but because the way he avoids eye contact was simply adorable.

She can tell he tried his best.

"Almost!" she says while gently taking a hold of his hand. His body tensing as she makes physical contact.

His eyes darted back and forth between her hand and delicate eyes. She speaks gradually to correct his wording, "my name.... is.... bakugo katsuki.”

She nods in his direction for him to try again.

The sensation of her much smaller hand holding his, the warmth of it, gives him an odd sense of tranquility.

How stupid.

"M-Mყ ɳαɱҽ ιʂ Bαƙυɠσ Kαƚʂυƙι"

"Yes! You did it!"

She squeals with delight. Having to restrain herself from pulling him into a hug. Knowing he'll probably shove her off not a moment after.

So instead she simply squeezes his hand. Honestly a bit shocked he hasn't pulled away yet-

Without warning, she can feel his fingers slowly intertwine with her own. Causing a shiver to go up her spine. 

What is he...

"Gσσԃ.... ɠσσԃ ɱσɾɳιɳɠ"

Huh?

Y/N stares at the blonde, now perplexed at his words. He must've picked it up from their travels together. But does he know what it means? It's not morning but night time.

She tilts her head and lets out a small laugh. How refreshing.

"Hm? Did you mean goodnight?"

The tips of his ears quickly turn red as he hears her laughter.

“Gσσԃɳιɠԋƚ" he says, tightening his grip on her hand. Looking into her eyes, now a bit more sincere with his words.

"Ah- you're going to sleep already? I suppose you do sleep early" she hums while nodding in his direction.

"Goodnight Bakugo!"

She's about to pull away yet his grip on her doesn't lessen. His eyes slightly widening at her words.

The blush from his ears immediately spreads across his cheeks in a light dust of pink.

"G-Gσσԃɳιɠԋƚ Bαƙυɠσ?" he mumbles to her in slight disbelief.

"Huh? Uh- yeah... Goodnight Bakugo" she says now bewildered by his reaction.

He doesn't move for a few seconds but then his own eyes soften. Completely catching her off guard.

She's never seen such a calm look on his face. And she didn’t know how she lived up til now without seeing it. 

Y/N watches as he pulls his hand away from hers. Now feeling cold without the physical contact. Her fingers twitch, wanting to feel that warmth again.

He takes a hold of the red necklace that's resting along his collarbone. Tugging it off and draping it over her head instead. Lifting her hair so it could sit perfectly around her neck.

She can feel her cheeks warm up at the gesture, "what- your giving this necklace to me? But it's yours" she says, looking down at the red pendants hanging off the black string.

"ʏ/ռ Gσσԃɳιɠԋƚ"

His hand lifts up to gently touch her flushed cheek. Only making her more bashful by the minute. 

What's up with him?

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ  ⎯⎯ ✦

The next morning was quite chaotic.

Y/N emerges from their tent, still feeling drained from her sleep. They’ve been traveling a lot recently and haven’t had the chance to rest up properly. 

She steps over to the campfire, joining Bakugo and Kirishima for some breakfast. Seems like the blonde is cooking some soup. 

"Hi you two" she says, yawning and attempting to rub her eyes awake.

She didn’t even have the time to sit down when-

"Y/N?! Why are you wearing Bakugos necklace?!" Kirishima quickly whispers to her, looking baffled and sending a suspicious look her way. 

Kirishima was completely fluent in the English language unlike Bakugo. Apparently when dragon kind are mere fledglings, they're especially quick to pick up multiple languages.

Hence this left Kirishima to be the translator for the trio. 

The duo found Y/N a few months ago, a rogue traveler who enjoyed exploring the world. She practically clung to the two after they helped her take out some bandits, who previously attempted to steal her rare items such as unicorn hair and some potions. 

She grew fond of the duo and decided to tag along ever since. At first Bakugo was completely against the idea. But the red haired dragon took a quick liking to her. So against Bakugos will, Kirishima allowed her to join them.

And so they’ve been traveling together since then. Exploring the world and taking on quests for gold. 

For now they needed rest, so they set up a little camp for a few days. 

"Huh? Oh this!" her hand gently traced over the variety of red beads. A sheepish smile sneaked on her face as she recalled yesterday's events, "Bakugo gave it to me last night when you went out to collect more firewood.”

The blonde ignores the whispered chatter behind him, continuing to stir the pot of soup around. Well not like he could understand what they are saying anyways. 

Meanwhile, Kirishima practically jumps out of his seat from her words. Looking at Y/N as if she had two heads.

"Kirishima? What's wrong?"

"You're telling me Bakugo willingly gave that to you?! Did he tell you anything else?!"

"Uh- well... he just told me goodnight is all"

"Goodnight?"

But before she could respond, Bakugo was already walking towards them. Holding two bowls of warm soup and handing one to Kirishima. 

His head then turns to look at Y/N, holding the other out to her. He seems to be in thought, trying to recall the right words to say, "...ԋι... ʂσυρ... ϝσɾ ყσυ?"

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

"Good Morning Bakugo! Ah thank you so much" she takes the warm bowl and looks back up at him. Feeling her body tingle with joy. A warm smile displayed across her face. 

Kirishima's eyes are practically bulging out of his sockets as he looks between the two. Having a sudden realization.

He quickly looks in Bakugos direction and starts speaking in their native tongue. 

"BαƙυႦɾσ! Aɾҽ ყσυ ƚɯσ σϝϝιƈιαʅ?!"

The blonde's mood suddenly switches as he stares at Kirishima. Immediately soured at the dragons words, "Tƈԋ ɳσɳҽ σϝ ყσυɾ ԃαɱɳ Ⴆυʂιɳҽʂʂ ʂԋιƚƚყ ԋαιɾ!"

"Hσʅყ ƈɾαρ ყσυ αɾҽ! Yσυ ɠαʋҽ ԋҽɾ ყσυɾ ɳҽƈƙʅαƈҽ αɳԃ ιƚʂ ƚɾαԃιƚισɳ ιɳ ყσυɾ ƚɾιႦҽ ƚσ ɠιʋҽ ιƚ ƚσ ყσυɾ σɳҽ ƚɾυҽ ʅσʋҽ! Cσɳɠɾαƚʂ ɱαɳ!" he shines an excited grin and pats Bakugos back encouragingly. His wings fluttered involuntarily with pure delight.

"Hαɳԃʂ σϝϝ ԃαɱɳ ιƚ!" Bakugo yells back, trying to shove his hand away. Followed by a couple of empty threats directed at the red head. 

After a few seconds, confusion suddenly dawns on Kirishima. He takes a peek back at Y/N who is sitting down on a log calmly eating her soup. Already used to the twos bickering so much that it doesn't faze her. 

"Wαιƚ, ԋσɯ ԃιԃ ყσυ ƚɯσ ҽʋҽɳ ƈσɳϝҽʂʂ? Dιԃ ყσυ ƚҽʅʅ ԋҽɾ ιɳ Eɳɠʅιʂԋ?"

"Lιƙҽ I ʂαιԃ Ⴆҽϝσɾҽ! Nσɳҽ σϝ ყσυɾ Ⴆυʂιɳҽʂʂ!"

"Aɯ ƈ'ɱσɳ BαƙυႦɾσ! I'ɱ ƈυɾισυʂ!"

The blonde lets out an annoyed sigh. Knowing Kirishima won't stop his pestering anytime soon unless he answers. So reluctantly he speaks in a quiet grumble, "I ʂαιԃ.... goodnight ƚσ ԋҽɾ"

A moment of silence passes between the two. 

Kirishima tries processing his words but he furrows his brows completely lost, "Uԋ σƙαყ? Sσ ɯԋҽɳ ԃιԃ ყσυ ƈσɳϝҽʂʂ ƚσ ԋҽɾ?"

"Hαԋ? I ʝυʂƚ ƚσʅԃ ყσυ ʂԋιƚƚყ ԋαιɾ!"

"Wαιƚ- ɯԋαƚ?! Nυ υԋ!"

"I ƚσʅԃ ԋҽɾ goodnight! Aɳԃ ʂԋҽ ʂαιԃ ιƚ Ⴆαƈƙ!"

"Hσʅԃ σɳ, ԋσʅԃ σɳ! BαƙυႦɾσ! Wԋαƚ ԃσ ყσυ ƚԋιɳƙ goodnight ɱҽαɳʂ?"

"Eԋ? Wԋαƚ ƚყρҽ σϝ ϙυҽʂƚισɳ ιʂ ƚԋαƚ! Iƚ ɱҽαɳʂ I ʅσʋҽ ყσυ ιɳ ҽɳɠʅιʂԋ!"

Kirishima couldn't believe what he was hearing. From Bakugo out of all people. 

The dragon practically bursts into a fit of laughter. Holding his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes that started to form at this revelation.

Bakugo stares at him baffled then a look of embarrassment forms on his face,"ԃσɳ'ƚ ƚҽʅʅ ɱҽ-"

"D-Dυԃҽ! Goodnight ԃσҽʂɳ'ƚ ɱҽαɳ I ʅσʋҽ ყσυ ιɳ ҽɳɠʅιʂԋ!" Kirishima manages to say in between his relentless giggles.

"Mρԋ-" Bakugo quickly turns around to hide his face. He couldn't believe it. But it makes sense now, last night's look of confusion on her face.

The way she went straight to the tent after he gave her the necklace. He just assumed she was just as shy as he was. 

"Hey what are you two talking about?" Y/N says walking in their direction with a look of interest in her eyes. 

"Nothing, just Bakugo thinking he confessed-"

At the sound of his voice, the blonde spins around and slaps the back of Kirishima's head. Not understanding much but knowing he's up to no good. Making the dragon stop mid sentence to whine and rub his scalp.

Bakugo eyes travel to Y/N, more specifically the necklace around her neck. His necklace. 

He huffs and points at the piece of jewelry. Then proceeds to open his hand at her. Asking for it back silently.

He waits, expecting her to hand it back. 

The blonde was beyond embarrassed that she didn't understand his motivates yesterday. Thankfully she seemed oblivious to it all. 

In his tribe, it's tradition for males to pass on their necklaces to their lover, signifying eternal devotion and trust. Yet the two weren't official after all like he originally thought. 

He'll just give it to her another time. When he learns how to properly confess.

But then all his thoughts pause when he sees Y/N pouting and shaking her head no. Holding the necklace closer to her body so he can't snatch it away.

"I want to keep it please" she says softly to him, hearing her own heartbeat in her ears from the nerves. She doesn't know why he wants it back, but she feels closer to him this way. It's the first thing he's ever given her.

Kirishima being the third wheel, quickly translates to Bakugo with a sly grin.

Bakugo listens then lets out a sigh of defeat. Waving his hand dismissively to her, allowing Y/N to keep it. She smiles brightly and nods towards him, “thank you bakugo!” 

He grunts in response and walks away to serve himself a bowl of soup. Or perhaps to hide the flushed look on his face. 

One day he'll learn how to confess. Maybe he’ll ask Kirishima for some help later on. 

What a pain.

But little did the blonde know.

Y/N was already planning to ask Kirishima the same thing. Trying to learn Bakugos native language in hopes of confessing her feelings. 

Kirishima could only bite back his tongue to hide his knowing smile. Looking at the oblivious pair as they all eat breakfast around the campfire.

Though he couldn't help but to let out a small chuckle at the sheer coincidence of it all.

"Hm? What's so funny Kirishima?"

He dismissively waves his hands at Y/N's comment and smirks, "nothing at all, just realized I forgot to say goodnight to you yesterday" he says, holding back a laugh as Bakugos head snaps in his direction. 

The blonde sends Kirishima a deadly glare. Standing up to teach him a lesson. Seems Bakugo reached his daily limit of the redheads teasing, "Yσυɾ ԃҽαԃ ʂԋιƚƚყ ԋαιɾ!"

That's how Kirishima ends up hiding behind her as Bakugo stomps towards the two. Leaving poor Y/N as a human shield.

She still has no idea what's going on but laughs alongside Kirishima as the three chase each other around the campfire. 

What a good day…. and night?

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| This fanfic was inspired by a Fantasy Bakugo x Reader piece I read a LONGGGG time ago on Wattpad. When I was younger, I was obsessed with this fic as a newbie reader & mha fan. Unfortunately it never had a proper ending, as it's incomplete like many other forgotten fanfics out there. I’ll add the link here to credit them but please remember it's INCOMPLETE! And the author won’t update it anymore so fyi! This was oddly healing to my younger self, kinda funny how I went from being a reader to the writer :)

[trender-official]

Whiskey Burns My Throat | Part Two

Sevika x Fem!Doctor!Reader | 3.5k

Part One

She looked up and ran her teeth over her lip. She knew he was going to lecture her. The leather coach squeaked as she sat up. “Yeah. A bit.” Her face contorted for a moment, knowing she shouldn’t be disrespectful, but still angry. She could handle hard, fast pains. But dull aches made her irritable.

Silco frowned sharply. “Don’t lie to me. The shimmer isn't helping, is it?” His voice sounded soft, despite the underlying anger. He cared for her, after all, they had been working alongside each other for years now.

She sighed. She didn't know why she tried to deceive him, in a way, when it’s his whole job to deceive other people. She did know why. She didn’t want him to think she’s weak. She didn’t want to think about that. “No. Hasn’t been for awhile.”

“That’s why you’ve been so eager to fight, then. Come.” He beckoned her over. Willingly, she stood. He may irritate her, but she respected him. She’d do almost anything for him. He ran his hands over her metal hand, then looked up at her. “I graced you with the height of Zaun’s technology. Do not disgrace it by refusing its progression.” He stood. “If it is failing you, fix it. Go see The Doctor.” He let go of her and sat back down. “Don’t make me say so twice.”

Sevika closed her eyes and took a breath. He was right. She was being irrational. Fuck, she was being irrational. She turned away, running her human hand across the mahogany desk. She remembers when he got this. He almost didn’t- Thought it may had been a waste of money. But she told him, “You’d impress investors. And scare them.” He listened. He respected her, as much as she did him. She needed to listen.

She let out one last sigh, maybe to make it clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, before taking her leave and making her way to The Doctor’s house. She was supposed to head there soon anyway to escort her to the tent.

Soon enough, she arrived. It was a small place, maybe 800 sqft, made of various scrap metals and sheets. She leaned against it, her eyes closed as she crossed her arms around her chest, enjoying the moment of silence. She usually waited youtside for The Doctor to come out, not caring enough to knock. It felt… too domestic.

She heard some clanging inside, then the “oh so put together”, well, not so much recently, Doctor came out. Her hair wasn’t in her proper place, usually tied back in a careful ponytail or bun. But it hadn’t been in… A week? Two? Sevika couldn’t remember the last time it was. Sevika didn’t care, to be honest. She didn’t say anything to Sevika, she just looked at her and started off in the direction they usually went. Sevika didn’t care about that, either. In fact, she appreciated it. She’s been much less chatty recently.

It took about four minutes to get to the tent, they’d placed it here on purpose to keep her out of the streets as much as possible. Although, the Doctor had been ignoring that recently and going out at night. At least she went to the last drop, staying within Silco’s reach. Sevika had seen her there a few times, only staying long enough to get a bottle of alcohol and leaving after.

When they reached the tent, Sevika finally spoke up. “I’m gonna be the first patient today.” She said, as she sat down on the cot that functioned as an examination table, which was far too small for her and practically screamed as she sat down.

The Doctor paused, a look of shock coming across her face. “Are you sick?” She asked, putting her bag down and slipping on some gloves. She stepped closer, tentatively, eyeing her face to see if there were any signs of sickness.

“No.” She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Just… The arm. It’s hurting my shoulder.” She said, once again holding the weight of the metal arm with her other hand. “Shimmer isn’t helping anymore. Don’t wanna take too much either. You know why.”

The Doctor nodded. “Can you remove the arm for me?” She asked, getting close enough to make Sevika want to scoot back. Sevika didn’t say anything, but unlatched the arm and laid it down beside her. She unholstered her gun as well. Just in case she didn’t have the arm to defend them with.

The Doctor leaned forwards, analyzing the area, running her hands along it with a furrowed brow. She reached for the arm itself, and almost immediately she could tell the problem. “It’s too heavy,” she said matter of factly. “It’s putting too much strain on your deltoid- your shoulder” she reached back to gently press on the area, nodding. Then she paused, lost in thought, trying to figure out a way to solve the problem.

Sevika frowned heavily as she fiddled with her. She felt like an animal being tested on. She was used to that- With shimmer and all. But she didn’t like it. When The Doctor paused, she raised an eyebrow. The Doctor’s hand didn’t move, to which Sevika glanced at it. She decided to remove it with a light swipe.

The Doctor didn’t react, her brows furrowed, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her first idea was letting Silco deal with it. That would be the easiest and less stressful thing to do for herself. But she didn’t like the idea of not knowing what their plan was for Sevikas pain. The thought frustrated her.

Then it hit her. Jayce. Jayce was a friend she made while she was just starting her schooling. They had become quick friends, despite their separate fields. Jayce was an easy person. He was easy to get along with. She heard news of him working with Heimerdinger now, so maybe he could help them!

“Wait-“ she perked up, slamming her fist down onto her open palm. “I have a friend who lives for this stuff. He’s…”

“A topsider.” Sevika finished for her. The Doctor paused, her face falling as the excitement drained a little from her voice. “Yes.. but he’s talented. Extremely so. Let him take a look at it- it’ll be a few hours max.” She didn’t know why she was trying so hard to get her to agree. Maybe to earn brownie points? But why did she care so much about what she thought?

Sevika thought for a second, her jaw twisting in irritation. Having to go all the way up to Piltover- AND deal with pilties who no doubt were going to gloat in front of her with their arrogance… she hated it. Hated this whole situation, hated feeling weak. In need. And most importantly, hated her. But… she couldn’t deny it any longer. She had people to protect here. Silco to protect. And his kid, that Jinx girl, which she hated to admit she held a smidge of affection for. So with a begrudging sigh, she agreed.

They set off, making their way to Piltover, wanting to do so earlier than later. Sevika had tied the tent up before they left, putting a sign that said, “Closed. Come back tomorrow.”

The Doctor stayed unusually quiet the whole ride. She busied herself thinking about what she was to say to Jayce after not seeing each other for so long. She didn’t know how to say she’d left Piltover and became a citizen of Zaun without explaining why, and he couldn’t know why. Silco made that clear.

As time went on, she grew more anxious, her hands squeezing and messing with the material of her pants as she thought of ways to dodge or distract Jayce from asking any questions relating to her disappearance.

But a part of her rationalized her thoughts. He probably didn’t even notice she was gone. It wasn’t like they were best friends; they just kept each other company during their boring schooling days. Once Jayce started working under Heimerdinger, he had gotten busier, and they didn’t talk much, not unless she came to visit him in his lab. And even then they talked about basic things before Jayce got distracted and pulled back into his work. Hextech, she remembered.

She didn’t even notice they had arrived until a large airship zipped through the Hexgate. It made her realize she hadn’t been here since before the Hexgates were created. She’d heard it was a marvel- But to see it here? Right in front of her? It was… Awe inspiring. This truly is The City of Progress. It made her rethink some things.

Sevike snickered behind her. “Amazed?” She asked, her voice holding that patronizing tone to it. The Doctor blushed and looked away, even though she knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Sevika had been here many times since the Hexgates were created, running shimmer back and forth for Silco, so the sight was just… Normal to her now. It’s strange, how that happens.

As they made their way to the academy, The Doctor couldn’t help the twist of anxiety brewing in her gut. Sevika was unpredictable, she didn’t know what she’d do or say once they got there, and she really didn’t want to break up a fight, or have any physical altercations between her and the guards. Or even worse; Jayce himself. Jayce was kind, and understanding. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hot-head. Things set him off pretty easily, which also worried her.

And the thing that bothered her the most was the idea of Sevika not accepting Jayce’s help; that she’d be in pain until Silco could find someone in Zaun to fix up her arm. It confused her, and irritated her all the same. Why should she care if Sevika was in pain? She was a grown woman after all. Not a very nice one either.

Finally, they arrived inside. Some people gave them a wary and uneasy look, while others downright glared at them, as if to say “You don’t belong here. Go back to the Undercity”. The Doctor frowned. She had never gotten those looks before. She, unconsciously, moved closer to Sevikas side. It was true that she felt safe with the bigger woman. Who wouldn’t? After all, Sevika didn’t look bothered.

The Doctor asked around, inquiring about Jayce’s whereabouts. She was met with a lot of suspicion, but she eased their concerns with smooth talking, and stories of their college days, proving she had a legitimate tie to the man. Once they had their directions they were off, and in time they found his workshop.

The Doctor raised her fist to knock, when the door opened. A man she didn’t recognize stood there with a tilted head. “Hello?” He said with a strange accent.

“Um- Hello!” The Doctor started, “I’m here for Jayce…” she shifted nervously on her feet.

“I’m sorry, he’s not taking meetings today, would you like to leave your names?” He said monotonously. He seemed to do this often. And he didn’t seem bothered by Sevikas stark presence behind her.

“Oh- but-“

Suddenly the smaller man was nudged, making an irritated sound leave his throat as jayce appeared above him.

“What are you doing here?!” Jayce asked excitedly, pushing past the shorter male, his arms instinctively reaching to hug The Doctor. His hands snaked onto her lower back, squeezing; A familiar, practiced motion.

“Jeez!” The Doctor laughed, her arms returning the hug quickly, her head being shoved into his chest. He was just about the same height as Sevika.

“Careful or you’re gonna kill me before I even tell you why!” The Doctor teased as Jayce pulled back, his eyes bright, excited. He looked good, face bright, but still equipped with the eyebags that came with being a scientist.

“Right, right.” Jayce pulled back, his hands still on the small of her back. “Well come in-! I have much to show you!” he took her hand, pulling her inside the workshop.

The unnamed man stood behind them, a hip popped out to the side with a grumpy looking face. The Doctor couldn’t tell if he was simply leaning on his cane or being sassy…

“Before we start I think introductions are needed.” The Doctor looked happy, a genuine smile on her face as she gestured to the man and Sevika behind them. “I know how you get when you get into things, Jayce.” There it was again, that familiarity.

Sevika wanted to glare at him. She wanted to scare him away- Make him stop asking questions. But she knew how to play this. She wasn’t a stupid woman. She faked a smile, strained and thin, still intimidating despite it, and stayed silent.

In return, Jayce just rolled his eyes playfully at The Doctor, before nodding to Sevika, returning the same smile, it being a little bigger than hers. He turned quickly, and gestured to the man leaning on his cane. “This is Viktor. He’s been my partner while working under Heimerdinger.”

The Doctor nodded in acknowledgment. “Hello, Viktor. I’m a friend of Jayce’s from the academy.” she stuck her hand out to shake.

“Oh!” Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh. Hello.” He said, taking her hand gently. His hands were bony, his fingers long. He didn’t know how to shake a hand well, he simply laid his hand in hers and let her guide it. He sounded uncomfortable, but not negatively. Simply, in a new situation. The Doctor guessed he likely didn’t get much positive attention from topsiders, based on his reaction, so she put in extra effort to lightly cup his hand and smile as she shook it. He must be from the lower city. Or perhaps it’s because of his disability? She didn’t know, but her heart ached just a little for him.

After she pulled her hand away she turned towards Sevika. “This is Sevika. A…” she paused, not really sure what to call her. She decided on the simpler method. “A friend of mine. We met at a bar a few months ago.” She introduced.

Jayce took no time in raising an eyebrow, his mouth turned into a teasing smile. “Right.. a friend” He said, his voice dipping low. He knew The Doctors type, they did go to the academy together after all. Nights of parties and bar hopping, they had learned each-others type in people. And Sevika? She was definitely her type. Not to mention, The Doctor never brought people to meet Jayce. It was all too suspicious.

Sevika recoiled, looking The Doctor up and down. “Her?” She snorted. “No. Just friends.” Even that felt strange in her mouth. Referring to this woman as anything but a nuisance was wrong. Although, Sevika wouldn’t be surprised if The Doctor was into her. Honestly, a night or two with her wouldn’t be terrible. Sevika wasn’t new to hate sex- But anything else? Pure insanity.

The Doctor herself sputtered, caught off guard. Sevika and her? The thought made her cheeks warm, her heartbeat increasing.

Jayce’s other eyebrow shot up, with his hands as he backed away. “Sure, sure… Sure.” He said with a shrug. “I won’t push.” He said, with a wink. He turned away, his neck straining to look at them behind him. “Come on! I’ll show you the lab. You can tell me why you’re here.”

They made their way inside, Jayce showing off his recent discoveries, though not going into too much detail. He would stop and move on whenever Viktor gave him that warning look- the look of they don’t need to know this.

Finally they settled, taking seats at one of the bigger desks near the back. “So, not that I mind you visiting, but why are you here?” Jayce asked, absentmindedly helping Viktor into the chair next to him, like he’d done it a million times. He didn’t even take his eyes off of hers as he did it.

That had The Doctor raising an eyebrow, but she stored it away for later. She wasn’t one to ask those types of questions in front of others.

“Sevika’s arm has been giving her some trouble. It’s too heavy for her muscles to handle for such a long period of time. Do you think you could take a look and see if there’s anything you can do to remove some of the strain?” She asked them, her voice now poised and Doctor-like.

Jayce blinked, “… that’s it?” He asked, almost shocked. “I thought it’d be something way more complicated. Sure, put it here.” He patted the spot in front of him.

“Show off…” She muttered, and looked back to Sevika expectantly. Sevika wanted to sigh heavily but she restrained herself. She waddled over to the area, gripping her arm and lifting the weight off.

“Just… be careful.” She said grumpily before allowing Jayce to touch her. “It’s delicate.”

“I will be.” Jayce smiled, gentle but large fingers gracing her skin. He looked back to her for approval, receiving it hesitantly, before lifting her arm. He ran his hands over the seam, and her harness. “There seems to be some pressure points here, probably causing some pinching.” He ran his hand over her arm, examining the mechanisms. “How is this powered? There’s no way you could charge something like this in the undercity with basic power lines.”

The Doctor stiffened, honestly unsure if they should tell Jayce. On one hand, being honest would make sure they got everything fixed. On the other hand… she wasn’t sure how he’d react to Sevika using shimmer. It didn’t exactly have the best reputation…

But before she could speak Sevika did for her. “What do you think?” She asked gruffly. She looked down at the floor, her gaze slowly trekking up his body.

His eyes widened, backing away. He looked to The Doctor as if she’d have a different answer. She simply stumbled over her words, then looked down and bit her lip. “I…” He said. “Shimmer? You have me working on shimmer tech?” He said with a laugh of disbelief. “You can’t- You’re against shimmer! You know what it does!” He stood up, his chair flying out from under him, screeching as it slid back.

Viktor tried to quickly stand, but fumbled, falling back into the seat. “Jayce-“ He started.

“No. Viktor, I can’t work on something running on that.” He pointed a finger at him, then at Sevika. “And I want her out of my lab.” He frowned, looked her up and down, then turned and made his exit.

“That went as well as I thought it would.” Sevika mumbled with a scoff. The Doctor sighed, seeming used to it.

“Can’t tell you how many doors we had to replace in his dorm room.” She grumbled.

Then she turned her focus to Viktor. “I’m sorry we caused a stir. I hope he’s not like that often with you. Let me know if I need to have a discussion with him about minding his temper.” she seemed.. pissed, her eyes narrowing. It was, admittedly, hot, Sevika thought. But that thought was quickly squashed.

Viktor huffed a laugh. “You know him. He’s… Passionate.” He stood slowly, balancing on his crutch. “But… You should know, I am as talented as Jayce.” He placed a hand on The Doctor’s shoulder. “Meet me here. Tonight. We will talk.” He smiled at her and continued on, hobbling out the door. Presumably to follow Jayce.

The doctor grinned to herself. It seems as if Jayce found someone that could keep up with him and then some. Good. He needed someone like that. She watched him leave, her hip cocked a bit.

She turned to Sevika, “Well, that solves that.” She said, offering a pleasant smile to her, hoping to receive back… well, praise, if she was being honest with herself. It’s what she thrived off of, what kept her working so hard, being noticed and appreciated by others. Well, that and improving people’s lives of course.

“Damn. I didn’t expect the little guy to go against him.” She said with a laugh. “Good for him.” She stood up, giving The Doctor a pat on the head. “Good job not entirely fucking up.” She said with a slight smirk. That was the best she was gonna give.

The walk back to the undercity was distinctly not in silence, unlike before. The Doctor seemed rejuvenated, and Sevika couldn’t tell if it was because she got to see Jayce, or if it was due to herself. Part of her wished for the later, which irritated her.

When they parted ways, Sevika made her way to the brothel again. Distinctly looking for a woman, Clara, who may look distinctly similar to The Doctor.

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - pregnant

You let out a long, exhausted sigh as you settled into the couch, one hand cradling your round belly and the other rubbing the small of your aching back. The baby had been sitting low all day, and no amount of shifting, pillows, or stretches seemed to help.

Chris, who had been scrolling through his phone on the opposite end of the couch, glanced over at you. He frowned, setting his phone down as he noticed you wince while trying to find a more comfortable position.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his tone laced with concern.

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice betrayed you. “My back’s just killing me. I’ll be fine.” you muttered, trying to brush it off as no big deal like you normally did.

Chris didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you as you tried — unsuccessfully — to adjust again. Finally, he stood up.

“Alright, I want to try something,” he said, moving toward you with a determined look. You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘try something’? Chris, what are you—”

“Just trust me,” he interrupted gently, holding out his hands to help you up. “It’s nothing crazy, I promise.” With a curious look, you took his hands, letting him pull you to your feet. You groaned as the weight of your belly immediately pulled on your back again.

“Turn around,” he said softly, positioning himself behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, still confused but willing to go along with whatever he had planned. “Chris, if this is some kind of weird massage thing—”

“It’s not,” he cut in, his hands carefully sliding around your belly. “Just hold still for a second.” You tensed slightly as his hands cupped the underside of your belly, but then he gently lifted, taking the full weight off your back. The relief was so immediate and overwhelming that you gasped.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, your head tilting back slightly to rest against his shoulder as the tension in your back melted away. “Chris… what are you doing?” you mumbled.

“Helping,” he said simply, holding your belly steady as he peeked over your shoulder. “I saw this thing earlier, and I thought it might work. Does it?” he asked.

“Does it?!” you exclaimed, a laugh bubbling out of you. “Chris, this feels amazing. How did you even think of this?” you retorted.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I just hate seeing you in pain. If I can take some of the weight off for a bit, I’ll do it.” he stated — and it was true. He was the one who did this to you in the first place.

Your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned back against him even more. “You’re too good to me, you know that?” you say softly.

“Not possible,” he teased, swaying slightly as he kept holding your belly. “You carry this around all day, every day. This is the least I can do.” You sighed contentedly, letting yourself relax into him. “I wish you could do this forever. I feel like I’m floating.” say say, the relief laced into your voice.

He chuckled softly, his hands steady under your belly. “Yeah, well, I don’t know about forever. My arms are starting to feel it already.” he teased lightly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t you dare let go,” you warned, half-joking but entirely serious. Chris laughed again, a low, warm sound in your ear. “I’ll give you a little longer, but you’re gonna have to figure out another way to bribe me if you want more time.”

For a few minutes, the two of you stood like that, swaying slightly as he held your belly. You felt lighter than you had in weeks, and the pain that had been nagging at you all day was nothing more than a distant memory.

But then, slowly, Chris eased his grip, lowering your belly back to where it naturally rested. The relief vanished almost instantly, and the familiar ache shot through your back like a rubber band snapping.

“Chris!” you whined, leaning forward slightly as you tried to ease the discomfort on your own. “Why’d you stop? That was perfect!” He smirked, coming around to face you. “Because my arms aren’t built for holding that forever. Besides, you’re the one with super strength, carrying this around all day.”

“I don’t want super strength,” you pouted, shifting your weight and rubbing your back. “I want you to hold it again.” Chris leaned in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You’re so cute when you’re dramatic,” he teased.

You swatted at his chest half-heartedly, glaring at him. “Chris, I’m serious! That was the only time I haven’t felt like I’m being crushed under a boulder all day.” you say, your pout deepening.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his grin softening. “I’ll hold it again later, I promise. But right now, I’m getting you some water and a heating pad.”

You grumbled under your breath but allowed him to guide you back to the couch. As you lowered yourself carefully, you muttered, “Next time, you’re holding it for an hour.”

Chris laughed, tucking a blanket around you. “Next time, I’m hiring someone to do it for me.” he teased ��� though he wasn’t serious about that. He would hold your stomach again over and over again for you until you were satisfied.

Despite your complaints, you couldn’t help but smile at him. He always had a way of making you feel loved — even if he was a tease about it.

© strnilolover

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

HI WE'RE BACK - i'm having so much fun writing this. thank you for liking it and your encouragement.

word count: 2.1k warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content, heartache, feelings of betrayal includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: the consequences hit hard

PART FIVE previous part - next part

The tension thickens, pressing down on your chest as Max’s words settle in the air between you. You glance at Lando, hoping he has some magic explanation, some way to fix this, but his jaw is set, his eyes locked on Max. His usual easy charm is nowhere to be found, and for the first time tonight, he looks genuinely shaken. Max crosses his arms, his sharp gaze moving between the two of you. "Well?" he presses, his voice growing louder. "Someone better start talking."

You take a shaky breath, your hands twisting together at your sides. “Max, it’s not like that,” you manage, though your voice wavers under the weight of his stare. “We weren’t sneaking around. I mean, not intentionally. It’s just…” You trail off, your words getting stuck in your throat. “Not intentionally?” Max repeats, his tone dripping with disbelief. “So what? It just accidentally happened?”

Lando steps in then, his voice calm but firm. “We didn’t plan this, Max. I swear. But… yeah, there’s something between us.” He glances at you, his expression softening before he looks back at Max. “It wasn’t something we wanted to hide from you. We just—”

“Wanted to keep it quiet until it suited you?” Max interrupts, his voice rising. “Do you even understand what this looks like? You, my best friend, going behind my back with my sister? And you—” He turns to you, his eyes filled with something between anger and betrayal. “You didn’t think to tell me? Not once?” You flinch at the accusation, guilt curling in your stomach. “I didn’t know how,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, congratulations,” Max snaps, throwing his hands in the air. “Mission failed.”

The words hit like a slap, and you blink back the sting of tears. Max has never spoken to you like this, never looked at you like this—like he doesn’t even recognize you. The hurt in his eyes is worse than the anger, and it makes your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for. “Max,” Lando says again, his tone softer now. “You’re my best mate. I never wanted to hurt you either. But…” He hesitates, like he’s searching for the right words. “I care about her. A lot. And if you can’t see that—”

“That’s the problem,” Max cuts in, his voice raw. “I do see it. I saw it tonight, clear as day. And maybe even before that, but I ignored it because I trusted you, Lando. I trusted both of you.” The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, no one speaks. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you hold them back, refusing to break under the pressure of Max’s gaze. “I need some time,” Max finally says, his voice quieter now, but no less resolute. “To think. To figure out how I feel about all of this.” He takes a step back toward the door, pausing to look at Lando. “Don’t follow me. Either of you.” And with that, he turns and walks back inside, leaving you and Lando alone on the balcony once more. The sound of the party swells as the door shuts behind him, a stark contrast to the silence that settles between you.

Lando exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he mutters, “that went about as badly as it could’ve.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

He steps closer then, his hand brushing yours in a gesture that feels both apologetic and grounding. “We’ll fix this,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a determination that makes your chest tighten. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll fix it.” You nod, though you’re not sure that you believe him. The night feels heavier now, the spark of earlier completely snuffed out. But when Lando’s fingers lace with yours, you let yourself hold onto him—just for a moment—because even in the mess you’ve made, he’s the only thing that feels steady.

You pull your hand from his stepping back until the cool metal of the balcony railing presses against your spine. Lando’s brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice careful, like he’s afraid you might shatter. But you already feel like you’re breaking. Your breath comes too fast, and your chest tightens as all the emotions swirling inside you—guilt, fear, frustration—bubble to the surface. “I can’t do this,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “What do you mean?” His voice is steadier now, but you can see the cracks in his confident mask. He takes a step forward, and you immediately hold up a hand to stop him.

“I mean this.” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “Us. Whatever this is. I can’t, Lando. I thought I could, but I can’t.” He stares at you, his jaw tightening. “Baby, don’t do this,” he says, his tone low but urgent, almost pleading. “I’m serious, Lando,” you say, hating the way your voice wavers. “Max hates me now. He hates you. And he has every right to. We were selfish, and we’ve ruined everything.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Lando says firmly, his hands falling to his sides. “He’s just upset. He needs time to process this, that’s all.”

“Maybe,” you say, your throat tightening, “but I can’t keep doing this with you, sneaking around, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. It’s too much, Lando. I can’t handle it.” The hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the stomach, and you have to look away, focusing instead on the city lights below. For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of traffic and the muffled music from inside the apartment. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his voice quieter now.

You laugh bitterly, though there’s no humor in it. “Of course I’m scared. I’m terrified, Lando. I’m terrified of hurting Max even more, of ruining what we had—what you and Max have. And I’m terrified of…” You trail off, biting your lip hard enough to hurt.

“Of what?” he presses gently, stepping closer despite your earlier protest. His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to coax the truth out of you.

“Of you,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “Of how much I feel when I’m with you. Of how I can’t seem to think straight when you’re around. It’s too much, Lando. You’re too much.” He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, heavy and suffocating. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s an edge of vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

“I’m not going to apologize for how I feel about you,” he says. “And I’m not going to let you push me away just because you’re scared.”

“Lando—”

“No, let me finish,” he says, his tone firmer now. “I get it. You’re overwhelmed. So am I. But this? What we have? It’s real. And I’m not going to let you throw it away because you’re too afraid to fight for it.” His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but deep down, you know he’s not. Still, the fear is stronger. It wraps around you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs. “I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “I need to figure things out on my own.”

His face falls, and the sight nearly breaks you. But he nods, his jaw tight. “If that’s what you want,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you say, though the words feel like a lie.

He steps back, his hands sliding into his pockets. For a moment, he just looks at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to memorize every detail. Then he nods again, turns, and walks back inside without another word. You stay on the balcony, the cool night air doing nothing to ease the heat burning in your chest. And as the door clicks shut behind him, you realize just how much it hurts to push him away.

The second Lando steps away, a hollowness seeps into your chest, spreading fast and heavy like a lead weight. The cool night air brushes against your skin, but instead of soothing you, it amplifies the ache inside, making every breath sharp and uneven. You tell yourself this is for the best, that pushing him away was the right thing to do—for Max, for Lando, for yourself—but the words ring hollow.

Guilt churns in your stomach, twisting like a knife. Max’s face, the flash of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, replays in your mind like a haunting reel, over and over again. And then there’s Lando. The look he gave you before he turned away—raw, unguarded—feels like a scar you’ll carry for a long time. You hate that you put it there.

Your hands tremble as you grip the railing, the cold metal biting into your palms. Everything feels too much, too fast. You were supposed to keep things simple. One night. One moment. A slip you could explain away and move on from. But it’s become so much more, hasn’t it? And now, it’s spiraled into a mess you can’t seem to untangle.

The lump in your throat grows heavier, and your vision blurs as tears pool in your eyes. You don’t know if you’re angry, sad, or just exhausted—maybe all three. Angry at yourself for letting this happen, sad for the way things are unraveling, and exhausted from pretending you don’t care as much as you do.

And you do care. That’s the worst part. You care so much it’s terrifying. Every glance, every touch, every stolen moment with Lando has carved its way into you, leaving marks you don’t know how to erase. And the thought of losing him—really losing him—hurts more than you want to admit.

But the fear is louder. Fear of what this could mean for Max, for your family, for your heart. Fear of stepping into something that feels so big, so overwhelming, it might swallow you whole.

So you stay rooted there, staring out at the city lights, wishing they could somehow illuminate the answers you so desperately need. But all they do is flicker and blur, leaving you just as lost as before.

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

The buzz of Silverstone is electric, a sea of orange and British flags waving wildly as engines roar to life. The atmosphere is alive, but you feel out of sync, moving through the paddock like a ghost. Max is there, but his smiles are subdued when it comes to you. He’s cheering forLando, though, still proud and supporting his best friend for his home race. Still, his excitement feels muted, his celebratory backslaps and grins somehow...limited and different. It’s like he’s drawing a line, one you’re not sure how to cross.

Lando keeps his distance too. You catch glimpses of him—a flash of his curls beneath his cap, the familiar set of his jaw as he talks to his engineers—but he never looks your way. You tell yourself it’s for the best, but it doesn’t stop the ache every time he passes.

When the race begins, you stand in the far back of his garage, heart pounding as Lando’s car tears through the track. Every overtake, every perfect turn has you holding your breath. You try not to think about the way things used to be—the way you’d celebrate together, no hesitation, no lines drawn in the sand. But you can’t help it. Because even with everything between you now, you’re still there, willing him to succeed.

When he crosses the finish line in P3, with Lewis winning the race, the roar of the crowd is deafening. You clap and cheer with the rest of them, smiling despite yourself as Lando lifts his trophy. Max is by your side in the crowd, grinning from ear to ear, but even his elation feels careful, like there’s something unsaid hanging between all of you.

Lando doesn’t look for you when he steps down from the podium. He’s swarmed by cameras and teammates, orange confetti raining down, but he doesn’t scan the crowd like he used to. And you? You stay on the sidelines, your pride for him tangled up in all the things you’re too scared to face.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop @weekendlusting @chezmardybum @isotopemylove @luvvcharxo

[letsbangts]

end of a day || jjk

⤷ summary: when the day tries to weigh you two down you both are there to lift each other up

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.1k

⟶ genre: angst, fluff, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, stress, crying, & a comforting koo

⟶ warnings: none

↬ a/n: inspired by one of my all time favourite songs end of a day shinee's jonghyun ʚ♡ɞ

↬ a/n2: p.s the italics are the song lyrics & as always let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback :) recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song!

masterlist

༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄ ༄

hold out your hand, wrap it around my neck.

a little below, massage my shoulders.

at the end of a tiring day, even if the sun has already come up

i'm finally closing my eyes

 Sometimes it can feel like there are too many hours in a day. The day has been going on for too long. A day where life felt a bit too hard, where the world got a bit too busy, a bit too heavy and decided to lay its weight upon your shoulders and your heart. A day that all you needed was a hand to reach out to you. It was one of those days for me today, a day that is finally coming to a close as I see the sun going down on the horizon as I make my way back home ready to shut my eyes. Home. The place I could not reach any quicker. It is not the four walls I am racing to arrive to but to him, as he is my real home.

 i close the door to my day later than others

playfully tickle my earlobe

because even though we’ve been in different worlds all day

we always end the day together

I enter my house and close the door also closing the door to my day. Many others have probably retired from their days long before me. I hear the clicking of a mouse an all too familiar sound to me, almost a reassuring sound. And that is when I knew although we were both in two completely different worlds the whole day, my day was just as draining as his. As I walk in and turn to see Jungkook’s tired face and slumped figure still working away, illuminated by his monitor screen I realize his day has been just as long as mine. Seeing him released all the pressure off my shoulders and I can almost release a sigh of relief knowing as always we can end our day together.

your small shoulders, your small hands

become my cozy blanket at the end of a tiring day

For some reason seeing Jungkook today, maybe because of the stress or exhaustion, whatever it is the second I see him a welling feeling emerges in my chest.

“Kook?” my voice shakes out.

He turns his head, not noticing my presence before being absorbed in his work, only ready to go to bed as soon as he’s pleased with his edit.

“Hmm?” as he turns his head his glasses reflect the glare caught from the screen.

We make eye contact and he watches as I approach him. As I walk closer to him he immediately wheels back his chair from the desk making space for me. He opens his arms when he sees my quivering lips and watery eyes, pulling me with his lap. He wraps his arms around my small shoulders, my small hands clutch onto his shirt as I cry into him. With my face buried in his chest, I stain his shirt with my tears, shedding my day. He rubs my back letting me get out the feelings I pent up for hours. He is silent as he embraces me until I hear him let out a deep sigh himself and I suddenly feel like I am comforting him at the same time. For the first time in my day, I finally take a breath of contentment able to relax and Jungkook seemingly doing the same.

you did a good job today, you worked so hard

i hope my shoulders and my thick hands

will become cozy comfort for the end of your tiring day as well

Jungkook pats my head with his thick hands probably stiff from all the clicking and typing the diligent work he always puts into everything.

“It’s okay. You did a good job today. You worked so hard, I know you did.” he soothes me with a gentle voice.

I sniffle and pull back to look up at him. I remove his glasses from his face and place them on his desk. I look into his eyes, red with dark bags underneath them as he stares back at mine, red and filled with tears.

I blanked out as I admired him filling myself with the warmth of satisfaction I get from simply being with him.

i want to naturally sync my breathing with yours 

like water in a bathtub that wraps around you with no space left

i wanna warmly hold you without any space left

I want to end my day with Jungkook. Merge me with him, with his breathing, with his heartbeat, with his movements, his everything, with his very being.

“I missed you,” I say to him “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” He replies hugging me tighter.

“You must have had quite a day as well I shouldn't be crying on you like this.” I wipe away my tears and laugh at my selfishness, burdening him with my tears.

 at the end of my day, filled with awkward mistakes

you, my prize, are waiting for me.

i can’t cry all I want or even laugh all I want

at the end of a tiring day but still, if I’m next to you

like a child, I can whine and then laugh till I run out of breath

i’m not used to seeing myself like this

He takes my face into his hands, cupping my cheeks his thumbs rubbing them back and forth. His gaze is loving as he says,

“No matter what kind of day I have, one filled with accomplishments or one filled with mistakes, once we come together my day can never end on a bad note. You are my prize, you being here with me is all the reassurance I need to know I can get through this day, and the next, and any more that may come. I may be one to suppress my feelings and not express myself fully, I don’t cry all the time or laugh as often as I should. But at the end of a tiring day, I know if I'm next to you, you will let me whine like a child and then you'll have me laughing until I’m out of breath. And it still surprises me after all these years with you seeing myself like that.”

I glide my hands up to his neck and pull him in for a kiss so deep that it feels like we become one, breaths intertwined.

Sometimes it can feel like there are too many hours in a day. The day has been going on for too long. But right now I realize there can never be enough hours in a day for me when I am with Jungkook. So the day can go on for as long as it wants because no matter how long it is I can make it through knowing that at the end of it, I will make my way back to Jungkook.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

you did a good job today, you worked so hard

you are my prize

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis's walk into your cage seemed tired and you could smell blood on him. It made you pause pacing around the room, some unwarranted fear curling through you, your omega suddenly alert to her alpha. It appalled you that you would even care.

He winced when he let his jacket slide off and then his black beanie was dropped on top of the discarded jacket. When you finally caught sight of his face, deep marring claw marks scrapped down the side, blood still oozing.

"What happened to you?" You couldn't stop your question, why did you even care?

"I was attacked while clearing out a train car."

"Oh." You folded your arms over your chest, a million devious scenarios of what terrible reasons Curtis was doing that for crossed your mind. "Given the circumstance of what you're doing to this train, I'm sure you deserved it." You snarled.

Freezing blue eyes found yours, sending shivers down your spine. "I am a monster, right?" His smirk was humorless as he continued stripping out of his clothes. "The couple of omega's they were force feeding heat pills were saved, if they survive detox."

Your hand shot up to your mouth in horror, your eyes tearing up at the scenario, it was one of your biggest fears as an omega. "Oh gods."

He didn't say anything, his heavy weight sitting on the edge of the nest so he could work his boots off. "They are here now where they can heal from what was done to them."

"And then what?" You asked softly, taking a step closer. The omega hummed, the sound barely escaping you, but Curtis tilted his head to catch it, the sound seeming as calming to him as when he purred for you. His eyes slid close, like he only had a few moments to appreciate it.

"They will be paired with an Alpha." He said curtly and your gentle humming stopped, anger seeping back in.

"So they will lose their freedom like me."

"I guarantee you that the Alpha's they are paired with won't destroy them like what they were destined for if my team didn't find them." He discarded the last of his clothes as he started to head for the shower. His large size seeming to suck out all the air in the room as he brushed past you, slowing enough so he could fist his hand into your hair near your scalp, easing some of the pain his tug would normally bring but still easily control your head.

His nude closeness enveloping you in his maddening scent and heat made you involuntarily whimper while your belly cramped. Your head was tilted till you had to look up at him. "Now come, it's time for you to take care of your monster Songbird."

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Pt2

Where did you sleep last night?

The hours pass in a blur after I leave, but I find myself standing outside the apartment again, staring at the door as if I could get the answers I need into existence. The cold night air wraps around me like a shroud, but it feels empty, like everything else around me. The silence between us has become unbearable, and now it feels like a weight I can't shake off, pressing down on my chest with each breath I take.

Maybe I should leave.But something keeps me rooted to this spot. The questions I've been asking, the ones that have gnawed at me for weeks, refuse to let go. Where did you sleep last night, James?

And then, as though the world itself is pushing me toward the final confrontation, I hear footsteps. I turn, and there he is—James, looking lost, his face pale under the streetlights. He's come for me, and I don't know if I'm relieved or terrified.

"Y/n..." His voice cracks like ice, fragile and uncertain. "Please. We need to talk."

I can feel the ache in his words, but it doesn't warm me. It only reminds me of the coldness that has taken root in my heart. I've been here before, standing in this silence, waiting for him to come back to me. But now, maybe I could know the truth.

"Do you want to talk, James? " I reply, my voice quiet but firm. "Now, you're going to tell me everything."

He hesitates, his eyes flickering like he's not sure where to begin. He opens his mouth, but it's the silence between us that speaks louder than any of his words. Finally, he takes a shaky breath and blurts it out, "I've been seeing someone else. For months."

The air around us grows colder, as if the very world is drawing away from us. I can almost feel the chill deep in my bones, a numbness settling over me that isn't just from the cold night. I feel like I'm standing in a place where the sun will never shine, where warmth and comfort are nothing but distant memories.

"You've been seeing someone else," I repeat, the words tasting foreign in my mouth. I've been asking myself this question for so long, and now that I have the answer, it doesn't feel like relief. It feels like a weight too heavy to carry.

"I never meant for it to happen like this," he says, his voice hoarse. "I didn't want to hurt you. But I couldn't stop it. It wasn't just one night. It's been months, and I've been hiding it from you."

I can hear the apology in his voice, but it doesn't matter. The damage is already done. "You didn't think that you could hurt me? You thought you could keep lying to me, keep telling me you were out of town while you were with her?" "I was stupid to wait hours, alone, staying awake waiting for you to arrive!" I yelled, my throat was burning now, that knot of pain inside me was already burning with hurt, but by now, I didn't care anymore.

He flinches, guilt flooding his eyes, but he doesn't answer. He can't. There's nothing left to say.The coldness of the night presses in around us, sharp and biting. And somewhere, deep inside, the words I've been avoiding spill out before I can stop them. "Where did you sleep last night, James?" The question feels like an echo of something deeper, something that's been with me this whole time.

He looks at me, his face pale, a look of regret clouding his features. "I...wasn't out of town, I slept....I slept with her" His words fall away, the air thickening between us. I've been asking the same question over and over in my head—where did he sleep last night?—but now the answer doesn't bring peace. It only makes the emptiness inside me feel deeper. Like I've been walking in the dark, searching for warmth, but all I've found is the cold, a cold that chills me to the bone.

I blink, trying to force my mind to catch up with the reality that's settling into my bones. But my chest feels heavy, like a knot tightening in the pit of my stomach.I swallow hard, the burn in my throat spreading like fire. How could you? The thought rings in my head, louder than anything he's said. But I can't speak it. I can't bring myself to say anything. Not yet.

I stagger back, my legs unsteady, my hands shaking. The taste of betrayal lingers on my tongue, sour and bitter, but it's nothing compared to the physical ache in my chest. "Y/n?" His voice is full of uncertainty, like he's not even sure if I'm still there. But I don't answer him. I can't. The words get stuck in my throat, trapped by that knot that feels like it's going to choke me.

I try to focus on the cold air outside, on the way the wind cuts through me, but even that can't numb the pain inside. I look at him, his face twisted with regret, and something inside me cracks wide open. "How could you do this to me, James," I whisper, my voice trembling, "All this time, I've been waiting for you to come home. But now... now I know. "And you were in her arms, while I, like a fool, waited for you to come home

His eyes widen at my words, but I don't care anymore. The heat in my chest spreads, and the sting of it mixes with the numbness in my limbs. It's as though my body is betraying me, not knowing whether to burn with anger or freeze in shock.

The tears are coming now, but they don't feel like they belong to me. They belong to the girl I once was—before all of this. Before I ever thought I could trust him."I never thought... I never thought this would happen. Not with you, James," I whisper, as if the confession is a quiet exhale, escaping despite myself. "Not with you."

He takes a step forward, but I back away, shaking my head. "Don't come any closer. I can't—I can't—look at you anymore." I step back, the distance between us widening. The world outside feels like a frozen wasteland now, a place where the sun never shines, where I'm left to shiver through the cold night. I don't know where we go from here, or if there's even a way back from this. But the warmth I once felt for him has vanished, replaced by something much colder.

"Y/n...pleas-"

"You don't fool me anymore. Don't say you're sorry or something else because it's not true,you're only a good liar." I say, the words heavy on my tongue.

James stands there,his face a mix of regret and guilt, but the ache in my chest won't let me soften. I know I'll never be able to look at him the same way again. His words falter, but he doesn't reach out to me. The space between us feels like an ocean, vast and impassable. And as I turn away, I can almost hear the echo of those words—Where did he sleep last night?—the ones that have haunted me, the ones I should have asked sooner.

But it's too late now.

The cold wind blew, I turned around and I started walking, knowing that I'm walking away into a place where the sun doesn't shine. The warmth is gone. And I don't know if I'll ever find it again.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 10 - Churros and Cioccolata Calda

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: The gods are capturing Dalish as sacrifices. It's Kalais's job to stop them. Lucanis makes dessert just for her.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, tension

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!

Chapter 9 DATV Masterlist Chapter 11

Lucanis wasn’t one for words, but the way he looked at me now spoke volumes. There was something unspoken in the way his eyes lingered on mine---heavy with gratitude, guilt, and something I couldn’t quite place. I tried not to let it get to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it meant.

He had returned the embrace, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. It was brief, just a moment, but the memory of it still sat on my chest like a live coal. The warmth of it, the weight of his arm, the way he’d held on just long enough to let me feel it. It wasn’t a dismissal, but it wasn’t a promise, either. It was… Lucanis. Complicated and restrained, a man who didn’t let anyone close without a fight.

I should have left it at that. I should have let him process whatever he needed to and kept my distance until he was ready. But I wasn’t built for waiting, and I wasn’t about to let him shut me out again.

I caught up to him as we walked through Dock Town back to the Eluvian, slipping my arm through his. “You’re quiet,” I said, falling into step beside him.

He bent his arm slightly, instinctively, as my hand fell into the crook of his elbow. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced down at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m thinking,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Dangerous habit,” I teased, hoping to ease whatever weight was pressing on him.

He huffed a soft laugh, more exhale than sound, and for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched like he might actually smile. “You could say that.”

We walked in silence for a while, the quiet between us thick with things unsaid. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he meant it when he said he was ready. I wanted to tell him how much it had scared me to see him like that, lost in his own mind, unreachable. But the words tangled up in my throat, and I couldn’t find a way to say them without breaking whatever fragile truce we’d found in the aftermath of the Fade.

Instead, I said, “Don’t do that to me again.”

Lucanis stopped walking, turning slightly to face me with an expression that made my chest tighten. “Kalais…” he started, then trailed off, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have---”

“Don't,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t have done. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” I said, softer now. “I already did.”

His eyes widened slightly, the words clearly catching him off guard. I pressed on before he could recover. “Seeing you like that, Lucanis… it hurt. I couldn’t stand it. And I’ll do it again if I have to, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He looked at me for a long time, his expression shifting through a dozen emotions I couldn’t quite name. Finally, he said, “You’re impossible.”

I smiled, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, I thought he might say more, but then he turned and started walking again. I followed, keeping my hand in his arm, letting the silence settle between us. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t cold, either. It felt like progress.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t quite breathe. “You won’t,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Not if I can help it.”

He glanced at me then, just for a moment, but it was enough. There was something in his eyes---something raw and unguarded---that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we’d finally started to understand each other. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.

—------------------

Taash, Lucanis, and I met up with Strife and Irelin at the Veil Jumper camp. They had been having some trouble with the Venatori, and we were going to investigate and deal with the issue for them. At least, what we could.

As we were dealing with them, we followed a trail back to some old ruins. A Veil Jumper there told us the Venatori were rounding up Dalish. I told him to report back to Strife, and we would handle it from here.

The closer we got, I started hearing their screams. The Dalish.

We’re coming, guys… I promise. There were about a dozen Venatori swarming another Dalish camp. They had them locked behind magical wards. When we finally freed them, they told me that the Venatori were rounding up the Dalish for sacrifice to the Gods. I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed and enraged.

The Veil Jumpers were going to meet us at the Lighthouse to discuss a rescue mission plan.

We decided to scope out the crater before starting anything. But when we met there, we ended up putting disguises on. Neve would lead us as one of the Venatori and Lucanis and I would be her entourage. 

As we moved, I could hear Elgar’nan in my head trying to whisper pretty words and promises. He said he could feel the sorrow etched in my bones. A lost child born into obscurity. And that he would be my salvation. His voice was a loving purr in my ear, drawing me in. 

I was tired. So, so tired of fighting.

He knew it. I knew. It would’ve been so easy to give in. 

But then I glanced at Lucanis and remembered I had something worth fighting for.

We reached the place he was giving his speech, some kind of blood magic influencing our minds. His Archdemon rose behind him, bigger than a fucking mountain.

It would’ve been so, so easy. All we had to do was worship, obey, love, and kneel. Somewhere outside my consciousness, I could feel Neve and Bellara working on his enchantment. Elgar’nan would notice someone breaking his old. We had to go, now.

We would only be able to handle so much. We needed to get in, get the Dalish out, and run like hell.

On top of fighting a million Venatori, they also had machines running on blood magic trying to kill us. And somehow, on top of all of that, we ended up in the fucking Fade.

After running through the same goddamn area for what felt like forever, I heard Solas speaking to me—something he had only been able to do in my dreams. He said he would be able to offer some assistance in distracting Elgar’nan. I soon found out what he meant as he shouted at the Evanuris in elvish.

With Solas distracting him, his attention was divided, and we managed to slip out of his trap. After a few more close run-ins with the Venatori, we made it to where the Dalish were being kept. I brought down the wards, letting them out. Solas led us back to his safehouse where we could escape back to the Lighthouse via the Crossroads.

When we regrouped at the Lighthouse, Strife thanked me for the help. He said Elgar’nan sacrificed the Venatori as a punishment for their failures. Those who escaped scurried back to Tevinter. Tomorrow, we would have to worry about another Archdemon. But for now, my stomach was calling me.

—------------------

I wandered into the dining room, drawn by the warm, savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. My steps slowed as I spotted Lucanis standing over a counter scattered with ingredients—piles of chopped vegetables, glistening pans, and a dusting of flour that had clearly missed its mark. He was focused, turning something over in his hands with surprising delicacy, but the moment he noticed me, he set it down and stepped toward me, wiping his flour-covered hands absentmindedly on his usually pristine shirt.

“Oh great, is it your turn to cook? What’s all this going to be?” I asked.

“Paella,” he replied, his tone casual, though a flicker of pride showed in his eyes. “Two of them. One without seafood for Emmrich.” He paused, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “And churros for dessert. They pair well with cioccolata calda.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait… Did you make dessert just for me?” My lips curved into a soft smile, warmth blooming in my chest at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“There’s enough for everyone,” he said carefully, as if hedging against the weight of my reaction.

“As long as they don’t mind having it with my favorite drink,” I countered, my smile widening.

“They won’t complain,” he replied with a shrug, but his voice held a distinct note of satisfaction.

My heart squeezed, and I found myself shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do anything special for me,” I said, though my voice betrayed me, laced with gratitude.

“Yes, I did,” he said quickly, his voice firm. His gaze met mine, unwavering. “I still don’t know how to apologize for… everything. And you…” He stopped, searching for words, his brow furrowing in frustration.

I cut him off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “You made dessert! Just for me!” I repeated, letting the words roll off my tongue with deliberate slowness, as though trying to savor them as much as I knew I’d savor the churros later. My heart felt like it was melting, spreading that unfamiliar, gooey warmth through my chest and down to my stomach.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “Or not enough.”

“It is,” I said firmly, daring to place a hand on his flour-dusted forearm. “And you are.”

For a moment, we simply stood there, the hum of the kitchen filling the quiet.

“And I’ll have you know,” I added, grinning now to lighten the mood, “I’m very easily bribed.”

He smirked, that slow, crooked smile I’d come to recognize as his version of letting his guard down. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he said.

I watched him for a moment longer, the light from the stove casting a golden glow across his sharp features. This man—who guarded his emotions so fiercely, who carried burdens he rarely shared—had gone out of his way to do something so undeniably kind. For me.

Without fully thinking it through, I closed the space between us.

“Kalais?” he said, his voice low and hesitant.

I reached up, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead and felt the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. “You’re a good man, Lucanis,” I said softly, not quite sure where the words were coming from, but knowing, somehow, that they were true.

His eyes flicked to mine, a storm of emotion swirling in their dark depths—uncertainty, hope, fear, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

Before I could lose my nerve, I smoothed my hand over his hair, cupped the back of his head and dragged him down to me. Our lips met only briefly before I pulled back, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He looked at me, brown eyes wide with surprise and something else I couldn’t name before his flour-covered hands were pulling my hips into him, crushing his lips to mine like a man starved. 

The world seemed to pause around us. His hands slid to my waist, holding me gently like something to be cherished. When he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, I felt my knees weaken. My hands roamed over his shoulders to run my fingers through his hair.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly of cinnamon and sugar, and I couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. I could feel his hesitation ebbing, replaced by something more certain, more real.

When we finally broke apart, my heart was racing, and I knew my cheeks were flushed. He looked at me like I’d just done something impossible, his breath hitching slightly as his thumb brushed against my side.

“I should make dessert more often,” he said, his voice rough but teasing.

I laughed, resting my forehead against his. “Don’t push your luck,” I murmured, though my smile gave me away.

Lucanis chuckled softly, his breath fanning against my skin as his hands lingered on my waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of my shirt, grounding me in the moment. For someone who often seemed so untouchable, his presence now felt impossibly close, intimate in a way that made my pulse race.

“Still,” he said, his voice low, “if dessert gets this kind of reaction, I might have to find a few more recipes to try.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching with amusement. “Is that your way of saying you want to bribe me again?”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Depends. Did it work the first time?”

I laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, and shook my head. “You tell me, master chef. But fair warning, I might expect something equally thoughtful next time.”

“Next time,” he echoed, his voice softening as the teasing edge faded. His gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to blur. The golden light of the kitchen, the faint sounds of the others in the house, the lingering smell of cinnamon and spices—it all fell away, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, stolen moment.

I reached up again, brushing my fingers through his beard lightly. “Lucanis,” I began, my voice barely over a whisper.

“Kalais,” he interrupted, his hand sliding up my side to rest just below my ribs. There was a weight to his touch, a silent question in the way his thumb traced gentle circles over the fabric of my shirt. “Thank you. For… staying. For not giving up on me when you probably should have.”

“Should have?” I repeated, frowning slightly. “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do when it comes to you.”

His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile, but his eyes were serious. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” I said, leaning closer, letting my words settle between us like a promise. “At least for me.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly, and I couldn’t resist closing the distance once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. His lips met mine with a quiet intensity, and the warmth I felt earlier now spread through me like fire.

Time seemed to slip away as we kissed, a slow, unhurried dance that spoke of things neither of us was ready or able to put into words. When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“You know,” I said, my voice teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to burn the paella.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded, and pulled me into one last brief, tender kiss before stepping back. “I guess we wouldn’t want to ruin dinner,” he said, his smirk returning. “But don’t think for a second I’m done with you, Kalais.”

My face flushed. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my heart still racing as I turned to sit at the table, the warmth of his gaze following me the whole way.

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

A/N: Duuuude I'm so psyched for the next parts

As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for Lucanis or this series :) <3

Tag List: @encrytpta

[argumentativantitheticaldream]

𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔥 || 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

"ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰"

-𝔅𝔯𝔞𝔪 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯

Warnings: blood-sucking? and fingering

I could see something in his demeanour had switched, his eyes more bloodshot and hungry. If I wasn't scared before I was now. My heart thudded in my chest, faster than usual, but it wasn’t just fear it was something else. My hand stung, where the paper had sliced my skin earlier. A thin bead of blood welled up, and I couldn’t stop staring at it, the tiny red droplet reflecting the candlelight in the dark. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto my hand, and I felt a strange pull, as if he could already taste it. My pulse quickened. I wanted to hide it, press my hand against my side. “Don’t,” He whispered, his voice was husky and strained as if he was trying so hard to resist.

I stepped back, my heart pounding in my chest. “I'll just clean it-” I whispered, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes were heavy and dark, and his lips parted to reveal two white teeth drawn to a sharp point, he spoke as though the words hurt him. “I… I can’t stop,” he rasped, his voice low and strained. “Let me, Darling.” He reached out, his fingers twitching like they were drawn to me, but he hesitated. “I don't want to but it’s so loud, I can hear it rushing through your veins.”

I open my palm and inspect the cut. My eyes fluttering up to meet his, he looked starved and relentless.

“Please,” he cut me off, his voice thick with desperation. “I need it. I can’t—” He closed his eyes, as though trying to resist, but his face twisted with a hunger I could feel in the air. “I’m begging you. Just a drop.”

I nod in slight admission, my chin dipping only slightly as I was still hesitant. But before I had time to second guess his hand wrapped around my ankle, his white-knuckle grip was painful almost filled with unspoken desperation in it, something raw and frantic, as if he’s holding on to the last thread of control. The way his fingers dig into my skin sends a shiver through me, not just from fear, but from the weight of his unspoken need.

He tugs once and pulls me forward, my dress had bunched up at my waist from the friction against the woolen rug. His eyes dipped to the sight between my thighs but they drew hungrily back to my hand. Swiping the blood once with his thumb, the sting echoed through my palm and an involuntary wince slipped into the stagnant air. "Is it enough?" My voice came out mumbled and weary as if the blood that seeped through my hand wasnt enough to satisfy the hunger burning in his eyes.

He tilted his head, dark strands of hair falling across his face, shadowing the sharp line of his jaw. The faint, metallic scent of blood seemed to tether his focus to me, his gaze flickering to the crimson streak trailing along his thumb. Slowly, deliberately, he brought it to his lips, his movements carrying an unspoken restraint that only heightened the palpable tension between us.

The silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting, save for the soft inhale he took when the blood met his tongue. His eyes closed, lashes brushing his pale cheeks, and when they opened again, they burned with something both primal and restrained.

"No," he finally said, voice low and gravelly. His words were measured, but his gaze stayed locked on my hand, on the fresh wound still glistening in the dim light. "Not enough."

My breath hitched as he reached for my wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle but unyielding. The coolness of his skin was a jarring contrast to the heat pulsing from the cut. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my knuckles as his lips hovered a fraction above the wound. The moment stretched, every nerve in my body screaming at the anticipation.

"Then take it," I whispered, though the words quivered with a mix of defiance and fear. The room seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the sharp press of his fangs just before they pierced my skin.

The initial pain subsided and was replaced by an unfamiliar pleasure, the feeling shot through my veins and I watched his expression through my lashes that fluttered from the sensation. His eyes grew heavier but were less bloodshot.

His grip on my wrist slowly softened, the bruising pressure turning into something oddly tender, his thumb brushing against my pulse in time with the rhythm he drew from me. A shiver rolled down my spine as I watched his lips, parted and stained with crimson, move with restrained hunger.

"You taste..." he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent, before trailing off, his gaze flicking to mine with a dangerous intensity. My heart skipped, and I couldn't tell if it was fear, exhilaration, or both that made me feel as though I was falling into him.

His words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy with meaning, pulling me further into the strange, intimate thrall of this moment. I should have been terrified, repulsed even, but instead, a deep, inexplicable curiosity bloomed within me. My skin felt feverish under his touch, every nerve ignited as though my body had forgotten the difference between pleasure and pain.

His lips left my skin, and I gasped softly at the cool air replacing the heat of his mouth. A faint trickle of blood lingered on my hand, catching the dim light, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. Instead, he stared at me, his breathing uneven, his chest rising and falling as though he had just come up for air after drowning.

“You shouldn’t let me do this,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, yet tinged with something that almost sounded like regret.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. What could I possibly say? That I had wanted him to? That the rush, the heat, the heady pull of his presence had stripped away any semblance of reason?

“Why...?” I managed to whisper, unsure if I was asking why he stopped or why he had started in the first place.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the mark he had left on my skin. The faint trace of his fangs still lingered there, twin crescents of crimson against the pale backdrop of my hand. He lifted his fingers to hover over it but didn’t touch.

“Because I might not stop next time.” he said, his tone dark and warning.

"What happens if you can't stop?" My voice held naive curiosity, but I needed to know. The question lingered in the cold air between us, sharp as the pain biting at my skin. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"You don't want to know." he said finally, his voice low, almost a growl.

"I do," I pressed, moving closer despite the warning edge in his tone. "Tell me. Please."

His shoulders tensed, the air around him crackling with a tension that made me regret asking. He turned to face me then, and the storm in his gaze stole my breath. "Stop pressing." He demanded, his voice stern and final.

Slowly ans tenderly, his calloused fingertips traced a line up my forearm and his voice softened to a deep mumble. "Sorry," He paused "Darling" The sorrow in his tone was evident, an indicator that he knew he'd lost his temper but I didn't dare ask again. Afraid of the consequences.

His hand wraps around my upper arm, firm yet cautious, as if pushing the boundaries of restraint. His cold touch sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, my breath catches. He leans in closer, his eyes dark, unreadable, yet magnetic. The air between us feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Come here." he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur that seems to echo in the stillness of his chateau.

I hesitate, rooted in place, unsure if I’m captivated by fear or need. The pull is undeniable, like the tide yielding to the moon, and yet my heart pounds in defiance.

"Why?" I manage to whisper, though my voice trembles.

His lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile, enigmatic, predatory. "Because you want to."

The words coil around me, unsettlingly true, and before I can think to argue, his grip tightens ever so slightly, guiding me forward.

His arm slides from my upper arm to wrap around my back, pulling me into him. The movement is fluid, almost too smooth, as though he’s done this countless times before. His other arm follows, encircling me completely. I’m struck by the contradiction of his touch cold as ice, yet somehow comforting, like the frost that blossoms at nightfall. His embrace isn’t forceful, but there’s a strength there, a quiet dominance that makes me feel both trapped and safe all at once.

My head tilts slightly, brushing against the firm plane of his chest. His scent surrounds me, faint but intoxicating a mix of something earthy, like cedar, and something sweetly metallic. Blood.

I don’t know why I don’t pull away. My instincts scream that I should, but the steady rhythm of his breathing, so measured and calm, anchors me.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmurs into my hair, the low vibration of his voice sending a jolt through me. "Comfort?"

His fingers thread into my hair and brushing through the strands, combing through the knots and the worries. I instinctively lean in, the magnetic pull not allowing me to do anything else.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his words soft and muffled against my hair. His head dips closer, and I can feel the subtle press of his lips as they find the tender spot just behind my ear. A shiver races down my spine, unbidden, as he lingers there, his lips brushing with deliberate gentleness.

"So sweet," he whispers, the words grazing my skin like velvet. His voice is low, intimate, a tone that feels like it was meant to be heard by me and no one else. Each syllable seems to settle over me, wrapping around my senses and pulling me deeper into the moment.

My breath catches, barely audible, but he notices. I feel his lips curve into the faintest smile against my skin, a knowing gesture that makes my pulse quicken. His hand slides up the curve of my arm, fingers tracing a path that feels both delicate and deliberate, as if he's memorizing every inch.

"You have no idea, do you?" he murmurs, his voice like honey dripped in shadow. The words hang between us, heavy with meaning I can't quite grasp, or maybe I'm afraid to. His lips graze me again, this time slower, lingering as though savoring the moment, and I can feel the heat blooming where his breath lingers, spreading through me in waves.

His other hand, strong yet gentle, brushes my cheek, tilting my face ever so slightly toward him. My eyes flutter shut on instinct, my body betraying the tension that coils in my lower stomach. "I mean it," he says, his voice soft but commanding, as though daring me to question him. "You're perfect."

The words are a gentle reverence, but there’s something raw beneath them, something primal that sparks an ache in the space between us. I don't move, barely breathing, caught between the push and pull of his presence.

His words hang in the air, charged with an electricity I can’t name, and before I can respond, he shifts. His lips leave their place behind my ear, trailing a path down the curve of my neck. Each kiss is light, like the brush of feathers, but it leaves a burn in its wake, a tingling warmth that makes my pulse thrum against his mouth.

His lips find a spot near the hollow of my throat, and he pauses, exhaling softly against my skin. "So completely perfect," he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost a growl. There’s an edge to it, something unspoken but undeniable, and it makes my stomach flutter. The words seem to hum in the space between us, wrapping around me like a cocoon of heat.

I tilt my head slightly, almost instinctively, giving him more room, and he takes it. His teeth graze my skin, a fleeting touch, barely there but enough to send a rush of heat through my body. His hand on my back tightens slightly, drawing me closer until there's barely any space left between us.

My hands, which had been hovering uncertainly, find their place on his chest. The solidness of him under my fingertips is both reassuring and exhilarating. His heart is racing now, and the realization sends a thrill through me, he’s as affected as I am.

He leans back just enough to catch my eyes, his lips parted, his breath uneven. The intensity in his gaze pins me in place, as though the rest of the world has fallen away and there’s only this moment, only us. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he admits, his voice barely more than a rasp. His hand brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "I've been watching you, you know?"

His words hold a dark tone but the way he looks at me makes me feel like the most extraordinary thing he’s ever seen, as though nothing else could ever compare. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and I can feel myself getting lost in it. His fingers find my thigh, sliding up them with deliberate tenderness. "Let me take care of you, love."

I nod once, my head dipping slightly. I part my lips to talk but the words get stuck in my throat, he pinches my flesh in acknowledgment and his voice comes out reassuring. "I know... I know, Sweetheart." My teeth catch my lower lip between them as to not risk making any noises too soon, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but as his knuckles brush against my panties I struggle to keep it that way.

His fingers brushed down the lace with a delicate reverence and his eyes met mine knowingly. "Look at you," He drawled, his voice low and dark. He moved over me, propping himself up with his arms so he didn't crush me. His fingers were still against me, the pressure filled me with unbearable torment. He slipped his calloused fingers under the fabric and glided them down, making me painfully aware of my wetness. A sharp gasp elicited from my lips and filled the space between us.

"Fuck-" He groans, the weight of his head dipped to brush my ear with his lips. The sound of his groan sent a shiver through me and when he nudged his fingers against my clit my head tilted back as a result of the shockwaves of pleasure.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as he teased and circled his fingers over my clit, eliciting a whine from my lips. "Shh, it's okay." His warm breath brushed my ear and he pushed my hair out of my face. "m'gonna take care of you" His words became lazy as he grew more hungry, the syllables blending together in a melodic string of sounds. Deep and low. He slowly pressed two fingers against my entrance allowing me to relax before pushing them forward roughly. His fingers curled inside me and a sharp moan spilled from my lips and hung in the air. I felt his lips curve against my ear and he started to pump his fingers in and out. His pace was relentless and unwavering as if he was determined to leave me trembling. Every stroke and curl of his fingers inside me pulled a gasp from my lips and he was revelling in it.

I could feel the familiar tension in my lower stomach, coiling tighter. A feeling I knew all too well. His pace didn't slow down when he'd noticed my legs starting to shake or my breath becoming faster. He kept up the relentless pumping of his fingers, the sound that filled the air was erotic; groans, gasps and the sound of his fingers moving in and out of me. My fingers curled around his arms and I dug my nails into it, a silent plea, a notice that I was close.

"You're so precious, Sweetheart" He groaned against my ear, seemingly more turned on than I was. I felt the wave of pleasure crash over me and my body shook with release, my eyes rolled back and when I'd managed to open them again he hovered over me, his fingers in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the glistening release.

“Jesus—” I breathed, my words stumbling over the weight of the moment. The air in my lungs caught as if snared in a vice, and my voice wavered, unsteady, trembling at the edges like fragile glass about to shatter.

Before I could say anything more, his voice sliced through the tension, sharp and certain, like the crack of a whip.

“I've got you, it's okay” he interrupted smoothly, each word rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

His smile was a slow, deliberate thing, curling at the corners of his mouth like he was tasting a long-forgotten flavor. It wasn’t the kind of grin that came naturally; it bore the rust of disuse, a proud but faintly hollow gesture as if he’d unearthed it for the occasion. Yet, it still held power, sharp and disarming, like the glint of sunlight on a blade.

a/n: this was my first time writing smut 😬😬 i hope its okay not not rushed but i'll write more in the next part and hopefully it'll flow better i feel like the first half was so much better paced. anways, enjoy and give me suggestions because i'm running out of ideass

[captain039]

Part 4 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, smut, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

warnings for the smut when it happens xD: Dominant Viktor, needy Viktor, needy ready, oral F and M receiving, praises, first times, riding, body worship, marking

Previous part <-

It’s been days since you’ve seen Viktor. It’s normal for him to go off for days without returning, just this time it feels targeted. Your last interaction was a whirlwind and you figure he needs some space to process what happened, hell you still need to process what happened. His voice was sharp and firm unlike his usual self. You bush yourself with your book, your MC’s have finally confessed and shared a steamy night which left you giggling to yourself till you imagined it was you and Viktor and then you contemplated. When Viktor does stumble home it’s 2 at night. You weren’t asleep, your hips aching from sitting all day. You were awkwardly lying on your stomach three pillows under your hips which somehow helped a bit. You just hoped he’d not look in and see you in this awkward position. You weren’t able to close your curtains so the moonlight was shining in. You hear him shuffle, sigh, place things down before he shuffles some more then stops.

“Are- are you awake?” Viktors uncertain voice comes from your doorway.

“I uh- maybe” you say turning your head so you’re facing him. Your bed is in a position so you can see out the door on your side.

“Is there a reason for such a position?” He asks head tilting a bit.

“Relief?” You say before realising that this in fact looks stupid and suspicious.

“Not like that!- my hips are hurting and if I put pressure on my knees they hurt too so I thought I’d shove pillows under my hips to elevate them and not hurt my knees” you babble in explanation cheeks hot, you’re thankful for your dimly lit room.

“I see” he says simply and you sigh really not wanting to move because even if it looks funny it’s not hurting.

“Are you ok?” You ask and he nods.

“A new project?” You add.

“Something like that” he shrugs a bit and you frown a bit as he looks to the floor instead. You nod and he shifts his weight.

“Goodnight” he says and heads off.

“Viktor-“ you call and move slowly.

“Yes?” He answers stopping.

“Did- did you wanna talk?” You ask sheepishly sitting a little stiffly. He hesitated and you think he’s going to brush you off.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod a little too quickly. He walks in and sits down beside you resting his cane beside him. You switch your lamp on wincing at the pain throbbing.

“A bad day?” He asks noticing and you sigh and nod.

“You know when I was growing up, I was always open about my pain, sharing it with my mum because I didn’t know what was going on, always crying in agony leaning on her for help. She let me, she helped me every step of the way and then she got sick when I was 18 and I just, bottled it all up. My father became a drunk and I had to do everything around the house and suffer in silence, if I showed any weakness in front of him I knew something would happen. Then my mother passed away and I shut everything down. I forced myself to think that none of this pain was real, made myself work and live alone even if I’d sometimes collapse from exhaustion” you open up to him staring at the floor as memory’s wash over of painful, sleepless nights.

“It’s worse at night” he says softly and you look to him.

“There’s a throb of pain from my ankle to knee to hip that goes up my spine” you feel your heart break at his words.

“It isn’t a one off throb, it’s constant, like a heartbeat pulsing” he adds.

“It stiffens my joints and muscles makes them cramp and tense” your hand twitches to hold his, but you don’t want to scare him.

“Mine is focused, thankfully. Yours is everywhere? Not just your legs and hips?” He asks and you nod.

“My shoulders, neck, arms, chest, ribs” you list sagging a bit to relieve some of the pain in your hips.

“A screw over of creation” you mutter insulting yourself.

“You are not, a ‘screw over of creation’” Viktor says frowning.

“You are beautiful, perfectly imperfect” you look to him noticing his eyes on you intensely and you feel a swell of emotion. You take a small breath and look away embarrassed.

“Were you away a few days because of what happened between us?” You whisper, you know it’s silly thinking but it still lingered.

“I- yes” he sighs and it stings but you nod.

“I don’t know what came over me” he mutters leaning against his cane.

“You were bossy” you try to joke lightly.

“I was” he smiles softly.

“Feelings, are complex, a puzzle I cannot solve with the equation constantly changing every second, there is no answer for emotions and feelings” his words make you frown lightly in thought.

“That’s what makes us human” you say shrugging a bit.

“I learnt to control my emotions very young, when they spiral so do my thoughts and I cannot have a jumble of thoughts as an inventor” you understand what he’s saying, sort of, you get where his point of view is coming from.

“You cannot have emotions when inventing otherwise you mess up” he adds and for some reason it leaves a hole in your heart, a string breaking.

“But you- you bring these feelings forwards, emotions I cannot understand, but it doesn’t… make me spiral in a way I don’t enjoy” his admission makes you tense on the spot and you hold breath thinking this is some sort of dream.

“When we were young, you never shied away from me or my strange inventions, you were always intrigued you never left me alone” he smiles faintly and you do to. It was true, you hardly let him be by himself whenever you were out.

“I was found by the academy, moved through training to be an assistant. I always wondered if I’d see you again” he says softly.

“The first time I did I didn’t believe it, I was heading home very late and I saw you, exhausted in a dirty white shirt and black pants covered in flour” you frown lightly he saw you coming home from work.

“I thought I was going mad seeing you, but then I saw you again, and again, same time leaving the bakery” he explains.

“I never saw you” you say confused.

“I didn’t want you to see me” he says and you frown.

“What- why?” You say baffled.

“You were so beautiful” he whispers and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Sweaty, covered in flour and dirt?” You ask.

“Raw, unrefined, perfectly imperfect” he mutters.

“I saw your advertisement for a shared apartment and for selfish reasons I took it down and contacted you about it” you remember that day. Getting a letter signed with the letter V when you saw him at the apartment you were shocked. You figured V stood for Victoria or something like that, his hand writing was so neat.

“I watched you over the years, you’d become your own woman and I my own man, I watched the way you pushed yourself when you were working, finding you passed out on the couch, still in dirty work clothes” you remember the day Viktor had talked to you about your job, saying he could afford it if you quit, you’d never been so relieved in your life but you swore to work for rent another way. So you worked out a system you’ve stuck by. You wondered what he was getting at thought with all this reminiscing.

“I started- to fall” he says and you frown, fall? Fall in work? Life?

“Fall?” You say confused.

“In love” he says and you freeze processing.

“In love” you repeat and he nods.

“With- me?” You add.

“Yes with you” he confirms and you blink a few times.

“You fell in love with me?” You repeat.

“I did” he says.

“You did? You’re not anymore?” You frown and you hear him sigh annoyed, a hand goes to your face and forces you to look at him before lips are pressed against yours. You’re shell shocked before you kiss back hand lifting up to grip his vest.

“I sometimes forget you’re a little oblivious to things” he mutters against your lips you go to argue back but he silences you with his lips again. His thumb strokes against your cheek and you’re the one to pull back to breathe. His hand falls and you pant softly as you process the kiss.

“I’m not oblivious” you finally manage and you hear him laugh softly. It’s one of the rare times you’ve seen him laugh.

[pepperflakesss]

Vesuvia Weekly | 💚 Post-Route Muriel Headcanons | Masterlist (coming soon!)

theme: How To Comfort A Loved One

Muriel x GN!MC | CW: none

It's My Turn!

You had never seen Inanna act out before. But when you forget to do a beloved activity that brings you both together, you find Muriel pushed off to the floor and the defiant wolf in his place in the tiny floor mattress you three share

--------

Last night was the most fun you've ever had.

You and Muriel stumble through the front door of his hut. Your arm is slinged around his neck as he supports your weight with his.

You remember his laughs tickling your neck while you defend your sobriety with words slurring every other word.

Muriel carried on into the house, unconvinced.

"Hm, one thing's for sure," his careful whisper is loud in your ear, "Julian is formidable drinker."

The words summon a wave of nausea. You recall the dare. The excitement when you sat down. The regret when Julian swigged his tenth drink with ease. The relief when that man finally slumped against the table an hour later.

"Ugh." is all you manage to say.

You won. But at what cost?

Muriel shakes his head with a laugh. With his forehead against yours, it feels more like a nuzzle. You lean into his touch. His warmth is a balm to your aching head.

"Here, let's get you to bed soon."

Then, he snaps his thumbs. The fireplace fwooms to life. Its warm glow is kind to your eyes. You can see everything once again. Including the shadow stretching out to your feet. There's a sillhouette of one menacing wolf blocking the front of the fireplace, but you can only see the glow of her golden eyes through her shadow-veiled face.

She lowers her head. Is she.. glaring at you? Though she's shorter than both of you, you get the feeling that her golden eyes are staring you down.

"Whorf."

"Out with friends." Muriel says, "Why?"

Inanna lets out a snort that puffs in her chest. Her gaze moves from Muriel to you. She is unimpressed.

Muriel moves to the bed. He is gentle to lower you to the mattress on the floor. You can't help the sigh of relief at the moment your bum touches the mattress. Its softness invites your bones to relax. And you do. A happy hum falls from your lips as you lie down and sink into it. Finally, you can rest.

"Oh."

The crackling of the fireplace quiets your mind. You hear the chirping of crickets. A hoot of an owl. The hushed conversation between Muriel and Inanna. Your eyes begin to grow heavy as the forest's orchestra lulls you to sleep.

"She must've forgot." Muriel says, his volume lowered just enough that you can barely hear, "I'm sure she didn't mean it."

A whine. And stomp of a paw. Your eyes have fallen shut. Your mind is falling away into the depths of slumber.

"Awwour...."

A silent beat passes.

"Then, tell her in the morning." Muriel says, his tone is kind, "I'm sure she'll tell you why."

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

My mind stirs to the sound of soft snores and chirping birds.

Where am I? I make a move to toss and turn when the ache in my muscles pinch me awake.

'Ow.'

What the hell? I let out a frustrated sigh.

I just want to go back to sleep. Instead, I force my eyes open to see what the problem is.

The room is dark. The dying embers in the hearth tell me that the flames must have died sometime in the night. I'm on the hard, cold floor.

I deadpan at myself. Well, no wonder why my body is aching.

I move to open my mouth, but a putrid smell attacks my nose. Eugh. I move my hand to smell my breath against it. Meat... Sugar... Alcohol? Had I been drinking?

A furry sillhouette lies on the bed, chest heaving up and down in slow rhythm. It's Inanna. But something is different.

She's sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the floor, which is my side. That's strange. She usually hogs the whole bed by sleeping in the middle.

I peer up to see the rest of the bed behind her sleeping figure.

Everything stops when my eyes catch a glimpse of you. You stir from sleep and turn to face my side of the bed.

Your hair is as disheveled as a rat's nest. Your chest heaves and sinks as you remain in a dreamful sleep.

My heart softens at your adorable face. How cute. You look so calm. So... content. I catch your irises shifting udner your eyelids. And you sigh. I wonder what you're dreaming about?

Then, with eyes still closed, your arm reaches out before you. You hand finds its way to Inanna's fur, and your head follows its lead as your fingers burrow in her fluffiness. Then you bury your head in her fur. You take a deep inhale, and deflate with a contented sigh.

"Muri, Honey." you croak into her fur, "What time is it?"

My mouth twists with a laugh building in my throat, but I bite it back.

Oh well. So much for a blissful morning.

Inanna gets up, without any care that your limpy body plops back into the bed, face first.

An exhale escapes my nose as I smile. You must be so tired after last night.

Inanna inches towards your face and snorts a strong exhale into your face, sending your tiny hairs flying.

"Haawr." She huffs again.

(Wake up time.)

You jolt up. Your bleary eyes adjust to the dark room for a beat. I have to chew my bottom lip as I watch you peer up and look about the room. Its no different than watching a lost scraggly kitten looking for its mother.

"Oh, hi Inanna." You lie back down next to her, "Sorry I thought you were Muriel."

"Hmmff!" Inanna makes a show of turning her back to you.

(Always Muriel!)

I deadpan at her. What does she mean by that?

I lie back down and pretend I'm asleep. There's no way I'm getting caught in that.

But I keep my face hidden away, just enough to watch things unfold.

"Aw, what's wrong, my darling? What's got you in a bad mood today?"

Tiny gusts of wind blows over to my skin as something swishes against the mattress. I smile.

'Darling'. Even if she's mad at you, you always somehow get her tail wagging.

Inanna lets out a yowling yawn. Then snorts again. She lets out a chesty, sniffling exhale. As if she were about to cry.

"Hhmf."

(Nothing. It's not like you forgot anything.)

"Hm? Oh Nana. So upset."

You move in closer, even as she inches away from you, and you catch her in a comforting embrace.

"What's wrong, my baby girl? What's got my baby so upset?"

Her tail wags speed up. Is she... Does she like being called that?

I squeeze further into my hiding spot. I feel like I'm a part of a conversation I shouldn't be hearing. Still...

I clamp my hand over my smile. I'm definitely teasing her about this later.

Inanna lets out another crying snort.

(Always with Muriel!)

She snorts again. Then licks her nose.

(Never my turn.)

I deadpan at her direction. What's that supposed to mean?

Then, I hear you gasp.

"Oh! Nana." you soften at her. You bury yourself deeper into her fur.

"I'm sorry, baby. I forgot your story time."

"Awrf."

(That's right.)

"And your mad at me because I forgot, when I promised you I would, huh."

Inanna sniffles. But her tail wags faster.

(Ywes. You pwomised.)

She lets out a big snort again. Then turns to you, her brows pushed together in her glare at you.

(BUT YOU FORGOT!)

"Harmf."

(Now I'm angy. No talk.)

"Aww I'm so sorry. I actually was going to read to you last night. I was going to wake up after a short nap. But I guess it really got to me. Sorry, Nana."

"Hmff!!"

She inches away again.

"I know, that's my fault."

You both are silent for a moment.

Or so I thought. I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of you, and I see the devious smile growing on your lips as a plan forms in your mind.

"Okay, Nana, how bout this?" you say, "What if you have me the whole day?"

Inanna snorts.

(Not listening.)

"It's my fault for forgetting. So what if I take the day off and we go to the market together?"

Her ear swivels to you, but she remains resolute in "not listening".

"Theeen~" your words take on a sing-sing tone, "We can buy that bear broth crisps that I know you've been keeping your eye on."

Then, her tail starts wagging.

"Aaand, we can go to that doggy day care spa that just opened in the other district--

Her tail limps.

"So that we can go back home and I can give us both a home spa after a round of hunting."

Her tail wags come back with a vengeance, beating again the mattress like a drum. Her body twists into a cresent shape, her head craning so far back that her golden, eager eyes are behold you in excited anticipation.

"We will also be hunting squirels."

Her tail is wagging so fast she's kicking up the floor dust as everytime it beats against the bed.

She snorts.

(And?)

"I'll cook us dinner."

Inanna leans forward with anticipation.

"It'll be roasted rabbit with that sweet potato puree you like."

The two black pools that make up her irises swell and glitter at you with affection. Then, out if nowhere, she stops. Her wagging tail halts mid-air and her breathing freezes.

She's waiting for you. Waiting for one last thing before going in for the final pounce.

I catch you bite your lip. There's a smile trying to break through your expression. As if opening your mouth would release the laugh in your throat and betray the poker face you've maintained thus far.

And it does.

"A-And!!" you clear out the laugh in your throat,

"I'll read you a bedtime story."

"RWAFF RWAFF!"

(YAYYYYY!!)

I smile at the sound. For a moment, you brought out the happy, bright pup that she used to be many years ago.

I had no idea she enjoyed being pampered this much. Maybe I should've been more affectionate with her, too.

You really have a way of bringing out the best in people.

She slams her big fluffy frame against you. No matter how careful she is about it, it send you both tumbling. The laugh you've been stifling breaks through. You're giggling as her big fluffy butt wiggles against you and she covers your face in slobbery kisses.

Sometimes Inanna forgets that she's not a pup anymore. She tries to fit her whole massive frame in your embrace. You wheeze when the full force of her hind legs rests on your ribs. Ouch.

I open my mouth to tell her off, but you return her affections with your arms around her in a tight embrace, inching your body to the side so she doesn't crush you completely. You rub her back affectionately

"I love you, Nana." you mumble into her fur, "I'm really sorry. I never want you to feel neglected."

You pull back to give her a warm smile. But with the previous night of carousing and drinking, it comes off as more tired than you'd like.

Inanna whines and her ears droop at you, sensing this as well.

(I-its okay. I was just kidding)

She regards you with big, sad eyes. A mix of worry and guilt shining in them.

(I don't really need all that. I'm okay if you just want to rest together today. That's all I konda want, y'know?)

You snort, amused at her expressions.

"I know. I'm sorry again, Nana."

You reach out and wrap her in your arms once more.

"We're gonna have the best day today, I promise."

Inanna stiffens. Her golden eyes dart around, a little lost with your response, before the deflated in defeat. That's not what she meant.

My heart breaks for her a little. She forgot that you can't actually hear her.

"Oo, y'know if Muriel's already out, then maybe we can go to my place and freshen up there. And then we can have a nice breakfast before we head to the market, yeah?"

And just like that, her worries melt away and her tail is wagging again. As you lay out your plans, she peers up at you with patient, loving eyes.

I sigh in relief. Looks like the worst part if over.

"Okay, wanna go now? Maybe if we have enough time for today, we can soak in the hot springs--"

The bed shifts. I'm caught off guard when your head juts forward and you catch my eyes open before I get to close them shut.

"M-Muriel?! Have you been there this whole time?"

"...No."

I peek through my closed eyes. And you're in full view of me, staring me down with your hands on your hips.

"Muriel..."

"Mmmff." I turn away from your pointed gaze.

"Not my fault I ended up here." I mumble, "And you guys were arguing so..."

"Well yeah." you say in a softer voice than I did. I almost couldn't make it out if I didn't read your lips, a skill I learned sometime ago because I couldn't hear someone sometimes.

.... Just like what I'm doing now.

A small heat burns my cheeks. Gods, you're so...

If this morning was different--

"And Inanna."

She flinches at her name. Her head droops in apology as she avoids your gaze too.

"Did you... push him out of bed?"

Inanna shakes her head.

You stare her down, unconvinced.

Then she nods. And deflates in further guilt.

You sigh. "Geez guys, what am I going to do with you both?"

Just as Inanna thinks it's all over, you shake your head with a chuckle and beckon her to follow you.

"Alright, come on, Nana. Let's go. We gotta add a new bed to the list too."

"W-What?!"

"Yes." You deadpan at me, "No more having difficulty sleeping or being forced to sleep on the floor, okay?"

"But--"

"Nuh uh. I'm not hearing any of it." You say, "Let's go, Nana. We got a lot to do today!"

And just like that, you're out through the front door, waiting for Nana to finish up before you both leave for the day.

Inanna needs no time to get ready. But I follow her to the front door to send her off.

"Gods..." I sigh. I scratch the back of my head.

"I should really lay her back for everything at this point."

"Whorf." Inanna looks up at me.

(Sorry. For kicking you off.)

"Hm." I chuckle, "Maybe... It wouldn't be so bad to be able to fit all of us into bed."

Inanna continues to stare at me, guilt behind the big, sad golden orbs of hers.

I guess that's not what she meant.

But I have an idea of what she might mean.

I pet her fluffy head without a hint of spite or resentment. After all, it's always more than that. I don't think I want to be mad at her for something like this.

"It's alright, Nana. Really" I say, "You go have fun, okay?"

It is a joy to see her ears perk up and her mouth in an open smile. There's a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there in a long time since I first met her.

I smile back at that warmth.

"Rawrf!"

(Okay!)

And just like that, she's off. Running to your side as you both walk and talk. Your sillhouettes grow small with the distance as you both are on your way back to the shop.

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s ( 18+ )

—ch.6

➤ s t a r t

Mr. Crawling x MC

—h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

“Mr. Crawling”

The corridor was eerily quiet, the sound of mr. scarletella’s platforms against the marble floor the only thing breaking the stillness. Your sleeping form remained cradled in his arms, your head resting softly against his chest, your quiet, steady breathing a gentle rhythm that he couldn’t ignore. He glanced down at you, his inky void-like eyes lingering on your face as a faint warmth crept into his chest.

He hadn’t planned on carrying you like this. He wasn’t the type of individual to pamper one, let alone let his guard down, but after everything that had happened, you’d fallen into such deep slumber that leaving you behind wasn’t an option. His tainted fingers tightened slightly around you, as if holding on just a bit more to prevent you from the other monstrous lurkers of his own cursed place. The faint light caught the curve of your peaceful expression, and for a brief moment, the weight of his usual cold demeanor faltered.

“匚尺ㄩ乃(strange) . . .” he muttered to himself, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. Even in your most vulnerable state, you command all of my attention, he thought. He adjusted his grip, his fingers brushing against your skin lightly, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself revel in the feeling of holding you.

In the midst of his engrossment, his reverie had been interrupted short after a headless bride unexpectedly pops out from behind a corner, her sentimental presence catching him off guard.

“几ㄚ(my) 几ㄚ(my) ! ㄚ几乃(what) 卩(a) 几ㄚ千(sight) !” she greeted, her voice melodic but tinged with something calculated. As if controlled by a puppeteer on a string-pulled device, her body shifted and took on a dramatic form of a complainer—her hand hovering above her chest as the other moved to cover her nonexistent mouth. “几ㄩ(you) 千几尺(find) 千卩(her) ? ! 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ几ㄩ(look) 乇乃丂ㄚ几(everywhere) 千卩(for) 山卂(her) !”

His eyes narrowed, unimpressed, though he didn’t halt his stride. “几ㄚ卂(then) ㄚ几ㄩ(look) 几乂ㄚ尺卩(elsewhere) .” he replied snappily, attempting to teleport past her.

Ms. bride raised her hands in protest, her voice dropping to a whisper when she noticed your slumber. “几乙ㄩ(wait) , 几乙ㄩ(wait) ! 几乃(we) 乇卩ㄥ(friend) ! 卂山(us) 丂千ﾌ几(share) 匚乙几(room) ! 几ㄚ (me) 乂匚ﾌ(take) ㄒㄚ(her) , 千卩(can) ?”

Her insistence irritated him, but he masked it well. He kept walking, treating her as though she were more than a ghost herself, invisible and unimportant. She hounded him with increasingly desperate pleas, her forced tone betraying her intentions. He didn’t stop until she blocked his path one final time, clasping her hands together dramatically. “几ㄚ卩乃几(please) , 几ㄚ卩乃几(please) !” she begged, her voice cracking slightly. “几乃(we) 乇卩ㄥ(friend) ! 几ㄚ(me) 千尺ㄚ(take) ㄚ几卩爪(good) 卩丂爪(care) ㄒㄚ(her) !”

The pause stretched longer than either of them anticipated, thick with unspoken tension. Scarletella’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized ms. bride with a look that carried a mixture of disdain and sharp suspicion. Every muscle in his body tensed, unwilling to part with you, his precious burden—yet, beneath his hardened exterior, there was a flicker of hesitation. The thought of letting you go, of handing you over to someone else, gnawed at him like a burning ache deep inside. But as his eyes locked on your unconscious form in his arms, something in him shifted. He couldn’t keep you to himself, not when you had made your choice clear. If he didn’t let you go, he’d risk making you angry with him, pushing you farther away. The realization stung—harder than he expected.

With a reluctant sigh, he adjusted his hold on you, his heart heavy in his chest, and extended you toward ms. bride. His fingers trembled, the action betraying his discomfort as he tried to conceal the storm of emotions within. It was the right thing to do, but it felt like he was surrendering a part of himself—his one precious thing. Still, he had to do it. He couldn't let his selfishness tear you away from your freedom.

“几ㄚ乃卩(should not) 几ㄚ乃(make) 几ㄚ(me) 乂几卩乇(regret) 乙ㄚ几(decision) .” he muttered, watching as she struggled to take your weight. Ms. bride grinned nervously, nearly buckling under the unexpected heaviness of your form.

“几ㄩ(me) . . . 几ㄩ(me) ㄒ几卩(got) 几乇几(this) . . !” she chirped, adjusting your limp body awkwardly.

She began to shuffle down the corridor, her movements jerky and unsteady as she struggled to carry you. Scarletella stood still, his eyes narrowing as he watched her vanish around a corner. His suspicion deepened, and for a moment, his hand twitched as though he might teleport after her. But he stayed rooted, staring at the space she had disappeared into. “ㄚ乃(she) 几爪(be) ㄚ乃卩几(okay) .” he whispered to himself, his eyes lingering on you as she began to shuffle away. With one final glance, he turned and teleported away, his crimson coat swaying in the dim light.

Ms. bride stumbled a few more steps before reaching the end of the corridor, where the man on all fours awaited her, crouched on the ground like a spider in wait. She dropped your form unceremoniously into his waiting arms and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乙乃乂(tired) ! ㄚ乃(she) ㄚ乃卩爪(heavy) ! 几ㄩ(you) 乃ㄚ几(make) 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃(do) 卩乇丂ㄚ几(difficult) 千尺ㄩ(part) !”

Mr. crawling chuckled, his high-pitched voice reverberating in the quiet space. “几ㄩ(you) 乃ㄚ几(told) 几ㄚ(me) 几ㄩ(you) 乂匚几(want) 卩ㄥ爪几(help) .”

“几ㄚ(me) 乂匚几(want) 卩ㄥ爪几(help) ㄚ乃(her) .” Ms. bride replied, “乂ㄚ几(not) 几ㄩ(you) !” she frantically waved her hands around—blaming the man as her worn out arms almost fell off.

With a coordinated teamwork, they carried you into a cushionless bed, setting you down carefully on the makeshift run down furniture. The two exchanged glances, their plan having gone off without a hitch. “乃ㄩ(this) 几ㄩ(your) 卩爪乙(idea) .” Ms. bride said, crossing her arms. “ㄚ卩ㄩ(but) 几ㄚ(me) 乃几ㄚ千(think) 丂ㄩ(it) 爪卩乇(good) . ㄚ乃(she) 几乂(no) ㄖ爪卩(more) 乃爪ㄚ(with) ㄩ几乃乙(unsafe) 乇尺几(man) .”

Mr. crawling’s mind was a storm of confusion as he saw your unconscious form in scarletella’s arms, utterly clueless as to how you had ended up there. He could barely remember the events leading to this moment, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t afford to lose you to that big crimson man. He had to act fast. He could see the way scarletella’s fingers trembled, the indication of possession clear in his every move. He knew that if he didn’t make his move now, he would lose you for good. In a blur of panic and desperation, the thought of Ms. bride flashed in his mind like a guiding beacon. Without a second thought, he summoned her—not for the mere purpose of clothes, but with a plan. A carefully orchestrated scheme that would lead him and her together in stealing you away, making sure the bond between you and Scarletella was severed. This was no longer a matter of just keeping you safe—it was a matter of taking you, of ensuring you were his and his alone.

Mr. crawling nestled himself closer to your sleeping figure, his eyes fixated on you. “几ㄚ(me) ㄩ几卩(hope) ㄚ乃(she) 几乂(not) 尺几千卄(angry) .”

Neither of them noticed your eyelids fluttering open at first. You stirred, your body aching slightly from the disorienting sensation of being moved, slowly rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess.

As your surroundings came into focus, you blinked a few times, your mind struggling to make sense of the strange scene before you. The dim light, the unsettling tension in the air, and the unfamiliar faces were all so disorienting. Your head felt heavy, as if you had been in a deep sleep for far too long. Blinking up at them, you asked, your voice thick with confusion, “What… what happen?” Your words were soft, but the curiosity and concern in your tone were unmistakable. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you, but you couldn’t make sense of the strange energy around you. Something was off, but your foggy mind couldn’t put the pieces together just yet.

Ms. bride immediately leaned forward, clasping her hands together with a relieved smile. “几ㄩ(you) ㄚ乃乙卩(awake) ! 几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) !” But before you could fully register her words, mr. crawling, who had been quietly staring beside her, suddenly moved. With surprising gentleness, he pushed her aside a little, his eyes locking onto you with a mixture of concern and something softer. “几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) 几ㄚ乂(more) !” he exclaimed, his voice a bit more intense but filled with genuine affection.

Just as the moment seemed to settle, ms. bride, her expression suddenly shifting, took a step forward. With a quick motion, she shoved mr. crawling aside with surprising force. He stumbled slightly, his large frame wobbling a bit before he caught his balance, looking up at her in surprise.

“几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) 乙卩乂(most) !” she declared, her voice almost comically stern, her arms crossed as she stood over him with a defiant glare.

Mr. crawling blinked, utterly dumbfounded by the sudden push, and then looked back at you with a mix of confusion and slight exasperation—as if telling her off. His hands gripped the floor as he steadied himself, but there was no mistaking the way his expression softened as he realized what had just happened.

You couldn’t help but find it a little funny, the way they both seemed to be silently competing to show who cared more for you. The seriousness in their voices only made it more absurd, but it wasn’t enough to make you smile. The laughter was there, but it felt hollow, a brief distraction from the heaviness still hanging in the air from everything that had just happened. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down—not now. With them, you never knew what would happen next.

“几ㄚ(me) 卩爪几(win) , 几ㄩ(you) ㄚ几乂(need) ㄚ乃乂(sit) 几千ㄥ丂(down) .” Ms. bride added dramatically, her hands now on her hips as she looked down at mr. crawling, who was still slightly leaning forward, clearly hassled by her forceful intervention.

The sight of them bickering over who worried more about you was so endearing, the way they seemed to care for you in their own unique ways only made your heart swell. A few more words tumbled out quickly, accompanied by a flood of compliments. She marveled at your radiant appearance, brushing her fingers through your hair and exclaiming how much healthier and brighter you looked. “卩爪乙ㄚ卂(beautiful) ! 卩爪乙ㄚ卂(beautiful) !” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “几ㄚ(me) 卩爪ㄚ山(like) 几ㄩ(you) 匚乇卂ㄚ(clothes) !”

Even mr. crawling, who usually kept his emotions tightly restrained, couldn’t mask the awe in his expression. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as they traced the changes in your face. There was a warmth in his voice as he broke the silence, a tenderness that spoke volumes. “ㄚ乃ㄩ几(cute) . .” he murmured, his words almost reverent. “山几ㄖ(look) 几ㄚ爪卩(healthy) .”

You felt a strange warmth in his stare—an almost overwhelming sense of longing. It was as if he’d been waiting an eternity for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t know what to do with it.

The tension in the room was obvious, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, without warning, you sat up straight from the bed, the sudden shift in your body making the room feel almost unreal. The words from ms. bride and your companion were still lingering in the air, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. Her compliment about your clothes, the soft praise, everything they’d done to help you—it all seemed to blur together as you focused on one singular thought.

That’s right, I need to leave.

Mr. crawling’s eyes followed you intently, his usual quiet demeanor momentarily cracking as he watched you, concern flickering in his gaze. You could feel his presence beside you, as tangible as ever, but everything else faded. His gentle voice, though filled with unease, barely registered in your mind. “几ㄩ(you) ㄚ爪卩几(okay ?” he asked, his concern for you perceptible, but you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t focus on anything but your own determination.

Leave. I have to leave.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but everything inside you screamed that this was the right decision. Long ago, you had promised yourself that once you were finally free of the cycle, you would leave. You would walk away from this place and everything it had done to you. Staying here would only mean more pain, more suffering—more of the same twisted game that had consumed you for so long. The thought of returning to the never-ending torment of mr. scarletella’s domain, of being twisted into something you weren’t, something you feared, was unbearable. You would rather return to the life you once lived, the life of blood and fear and silence, than become a monster under his control, dragged deeper into a cycle of madness. The person you were before, though broken—wasn’t a monster. Not like this. Not like him.

You stood, your movements quick and deliberate, pushing away the weight of doubt that threatened to pull you back into the past. You had no time to waste. The door in front of you, though simple, was your only escape, your last chance to leave before the cycle could repeat itself. The memory of mr. scarletella’s cold, indifferent face, his lack of empathy, his twisted form of affection, burned like a scar in your mind. For a moment, you almost let yourself believe in his affection, the way he seemed to care, the way his actions pulled you in. It was tempting to think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as cruel as he seemed—that perhaps his love was real, even if twisted by his curse. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t love; it was the curse, a twisted force that bound you both in a cycle of pain, and you refused to fall victim to it again. His love was fake, right?

You couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t risk becoming something worse. Not again. Not after everything you had fought through to heal. You ignored their attempts to speak, the gentle murmurs of concern from mr. crawling and the strained words from ms. bride, their voices growing distant and fading into the background. Your focus narrowed, your resolve strengthening. You had made up your mind. This was your chance, and you couldn’t let it slip away.

Rushing toward the door, your hand found the doorknob, your fingers trembling slightly as you gripped the cold metal. It was a stark reminder of the world you were trying to escape. Every inch of this place, every piece of it, was suffocating you, chaining you to a version of yourself that you refused to accept any longer. But before you could even twist the knob, before you could even open the door and break free, a figure appeared from the shadows, blocking your path. Ms. bride. She was standing there, her worried expression a sharp contrast to her usual calm composure. The uncertainty in her nonexistential eyes mirroring the sudden panic in your chest as she spoke, her voice gentle yet urgent.

“乙卩几(wait) ! ㄚ乃爪几(where) 几ㄩ(you) ㄒ几 (go) ? !” she asked, her voice dripping with concern as she cupped your shoulders, her touch gentle but firm.

The warmth of her hands on you only fueled the conflict inside. You had promised yourself that you would leave, but you couldn’t ignore the compassion she showed you. You didn’t want to hurt her, but the decision had already been made. You had to go. You took a deep breath and turned to face her, your heart heavy with the weight of your next words.

“Go exit. Go leave.” you said, your voice breaking with the weight of your confession. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your gaze was fixated on the floor, avoiding their gaze. “Time pass, curse come back. I stay, cycle repeat—hurt come back. No want that.” The words felt heavy, even deciphered into a different language far from yours—like a burden finally lifted off your chest, but the fear of what lay ahead still gnawed at you.

Ms. bride’s grip softened, but there was a glint of something almost imperceptible in her demeanor. She didn’t stop you, but there was something about the way she behaved around you that made you feel like you were walking into a trap. Before you could say more, a small tug at your skirt caught your attention.

You froze, a shiver running down your spine as you turned around. It was mr. crawling.

.

.

.

oh, right. mr. crawling.

—my loyal companion.

how could I almost forget about him?

His face was pale, his eyes wide and almost pleading, as if you had just torn something from him that he didn’t understand how to fix. “几ㄩ(you) . . ㄚ乂乃(leave) ?” His voice was barely a whisper, the sadness in his tone cutting through you like a blade.

His hand still gripped your skirt, a desperate, almost childlike act. His posture slumped, shoulders sagging as if the weight of your departure was too much for him to bear. The look on his face was something you couldn’t fully comprehend. It was a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t understand how you could just walk away, how you could leave him behind so easily—after everything he’d experienced with you.

You stood there, frozen, staring at him as if the sight before you was impossible to accept. For a moment, the words you had spoken, the determination that had driven you to walk away—faltered. Your chest tightened painfully, something inside of you stirred with guilt. You had been so focused on your own pain, on your own need to escape, that you hadn’t considered what leaving would do to them. To him.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, your mind swirling with the reality of the situation. How had you been so selfish? So single-minded in your pursuit of freedom that you hadn’t stopped to think about the people around you who had cared for you?

Mr. crawling. His face, so full of sorrow and confusion, haunted you. Had you been too blind to see how much he had sacrificed for you? How much he had done, how many lengths he had gone to for your sake? The thought of him standing there, looking like a lost child waiting to be abandoned, sent a sharp pang through your heart.

You had ignored his kindness, his quiet devotion, because you were so focused on escaping this hellish cycle. It was almost as if you hadn’t realized he had been a constant presence, offering you comfort, support, and even love, in his own, twisted way. His efforts to make you feel safe, to shield you from the worst of it—all of it was overshadowed by your own desire to run.

Your hands trembled as you fought to steady yourself. You wanted to speak, to apologize, but the words felt so inadequate. What could you say to someone who had given so much, only for you to walk away without a second thought?

Without a second thought, you lifted your fallen gaze, and it met his. Your expression softened, a quiet sincerity coloring your features as you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes half-lidded with warmth. “You…” you pointed at his sulking figure, “…want to come?” you asked, the words feeling like a release, a moment of truth in the midst of everything that had happened.

For a moment, time seemed to slow as you watched the transformation in his eyes. They lit up, wide and glowing with an intensity that could only come from the deepest places of his heart. His entire body shifted—there was a subtle yet unmistakable change in his demeanor. It was as though his very essence had been reawakened. His joy was obvious, like a dog who had been abandoned in a shelter for far too long and had finally found someone to call their own. His invisible tail, in your mind’s eye, seemed to wag furiously, as if he was dancing in place.

A wave of something tender swept over you as you realized how much this meant to him. You had given him a chance. You had given him something to hold onto. And in that moment, it wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about both of you, together, in this strange and haunting world. You couldn’t help but feel a soft, radiant warmth settle in your chest, realizing that, in some way, you were giving him what he’d longed for. It was an acknowledgment, an acceptance of everything he had done for you.

Meanwhile, ms. bride, standing off to the side, clasped her hands together near her cheek, a soft happy sigh escaping her lips. Her nonexistent eyes glistened with something you couldn’t quite place—was it satisfaction, or something else? She seemed to understand, her gaze softening as she observed the way you were with him. Perhaps it was a quiet affirmation of what she had hoped for all along, or maybe it was simply a moment of understanding. Whatever it was, you could see it in her eyes as she quietly came to a decision.

My work here is done, she must have thought, because she slowly backed away, her figure fading into the background as you and mr. crawling took the next step forward, toward something new.

You felt a deep, unexpected gratitude welling up inside you. It wasn’t just for mr. crawling, or for ms. bride—it was for everyone who had been part of this twisted, chaotic experience. Even the ones who had hurt you, even the ones who had pushed you to the edge of your sanity—they were part of your story. You could never forget that. You would always carry the lessons they had taught you, even if they weren’t always kind. But most of all, you felt thankful for the one person who had stayed by your side when everything had fallen apart; Mr. Crawling.

—ch.6

➤ e n d

“Mr. Crawling”

.

.

.

I watched them enter the elevator, watched her beautiful smile as she looked at him the same way she used to look at me before all this. That familiar, tender smile, the one that used to be reserved for me. I could feel my chest tighten as the sight of it hit me like a blade to the heart.

I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that damn bride.

She was so happy. I saw it clearly in her eyes, and it stung more than I had anticipated. I wanted to snatch her away from him right then, pull her back to my side where she belonged. But… who was I to intervene? It was her choice. This was her happiness, even if it wasn’t with me.

Is this love? I asked myself quietly, almost mockingly. I had brought her into my world, given her everything, and now, I had to watch her walk away with him.

She didn’t even look back at me, not even once. The thought of it—it killed me.

I had brought her into my world just for her to pick somebody else. Why wasn’t it me? What was it about him that I didn’t have? What was it that he could offer her that I couldn’t? My thoughts swirled in a dark haze of jealousy and frustration. It wasn’t fair.

She had confessed her love to me once, didn’t she? I remembered it clearly. She had thrown herself into my arms, professing how much she loved me. She even sacrificed so many lives for me—for us. Didn’t that mean something? Didn’t that prove how deep her feelings for me ran? She even took my umbrella, did that really mean nothing to her? Has she betrayed me this coldly?

I had convinced myself that it wasn’t a fantasy, that it wasn’t something I’d made up in my head. She had loved me. I knew she did. She had to. It couldn’t have been anything else.

But watching her with him, seeing how she looked at him…

… and how it wasn’t me.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (27/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either | ch. 22 - burn all the files, desert all your past lives | ch. 23 - i've still got love for you | ch. 24 - and the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree | ch. 25 - kept calm and carried the weight of the rift | ch. 26 - where the spirit meets the bones | ch. 27 - invisible string

The one with the desk smut, with a side of Cassian losing his shit over Nesta and some sisterly bonding <3

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-seventh chapter below the readmore.

I wanted to paint Rhys in shirtsleeves. He was sitting at the desk in his study, jacket gone, and a shaft of sunlight brought out the otherworldly blue sheen in his hair. Too engrossed in making notes on the map spread open before him, he didn't notice that I'd woken up.

Exhaustion had hit me shortly after lunch. As promised, I hadn't forced myself to sit through more meetings and instead had fallen asleep on the sofa. Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, I hadn't been out for more than an hour or two.

Not bothering to sit up, I just took the opportunity to take in my mate's profile. It would take more than a few practice sketches to properly capture the curve of his regal nose, the sweep of his jawline, the sensuous perfection of his lips. Even if I spent a century on it, I wasn't sure I'd ever manage to capture him properly.

But I wanted to try.

After a few minutes of staring, I realized I was clutching the jacket he'd shed. I'd pulled a blanket over myself as I'd drifted off, so he must have given it to me. In my sleep, I'd brought it up to my nose. I couldn't scent him like a faerie, but a deep inhale filled my lungs with the pleasant, familiar smell of the pine-scented soap we both used.

I sat up and stretched. The movement lifted my shirt slightly, and suddenly Rhys's attention snapped from the map on his desk to the inch of bare skin around my navel.

"How did you sleep?" he said, gaze traveling slowly up, up my chest, lingering there before finally landing on my face. For a moment, the air in the study seemed to grow hotter.

"Fine," I said getting to my feet. I held the jacket out towards him. "Do you want this back?"

He shot me an irritated look. "It's wrinkled."

I rolled my eyes—if Rhys could mist entire armies without blinking, his magic could certainly handle smoothing out a few creases. He waved a hand, and the jacket disappeared, probably into a hamper somewhere.

I crossed the room to get a better look at the notes on his desk. "What are you up to?"

The moment I stepped within reach, Rhys's arm snaked around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. A startled laugh escaped me, my shoulder bumping his as I tried to regain my balance. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

For a moment, I thought he might ignore my question. But even as he pulled me closer, he said, "Contingency planning. If the worst comes to pass, the villages on the Night Court's western shore will be the hardest hit."

I pestered him about it, curious about the handful of small fishing towns near the mouth of the Sidra—the vast majority of his people lived in the Hewn City, Velaris, or Illyria. But the stubborn faeries the Night Court's small towns were no less deserving of protection, and with Cassian busy in Illyria, the task of preparing them for a possible war fell to Rhys.

If the questions bothered him, Rhys didn't let on. By now, he knew I needed to ask. I trusted him more than anyone, but after finding out I'd been living in a manor full of servants invisible to only me…I worried. Maybe I always would.

He answered everything thoroughly, and when there was nothing left to say on the subject, I asked, "What's left for today, then?"

"Was what I showed you this morning really so unmemorable?"

"It wasn't. But do we have the time?"

"We made enough progress for today," he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, "and if we run ourselves ragged this early, we'll forfeit a war before it even begins."

Rhys wasn't wrong. After all, I'd spent the entire morning listening to him calmly craft a plan to shore up the Night Court's emergency stockpiles, expertly conveying the gravity of the situation without causing any of the officials and representatives of his court to panic. And he'd just appealed to my sense of practicality, which even I knew was the best way to get through to me.

But we were sitting in summer sunshine. The days were growing shorter, and instincts honed from years of hunting were screaming at me not to waste a minute preparing for the lean times ahead.

A tendril of darkness traced a soothing line down my back. My old fear of long, cold nights faded, just a bit.

I leaned down and kissed him fiercely, intent on chasing pleasure until my mind went blank. Rhys answered with a bite to my lower lip, then gently nudged me off his lap. As my feet hit the floor, I started to ask why he'd pulled away.

But before I could, a warm, broad hand settled between my shoulder blades. I let him press me forward until my chest rested against the desk, the smooth, polished wood cool against my bare arms.

Gently, Rhys gathered up my hair and swept it over my shoulder to keep it out of the way. I waited to feel his hands on me again, but he merely paused, giving me an opportunity to ask him to stop. Careful—he was always so careful with me.

I bit back an irritated reminder that I wasn't made of glass. After everything he'd survived, it would break him to hurt me like that, even accidentally. I twisted my head to the side to look back at him. "Go ahead. I trust you."

The words seemed to unleash something inside him. A flicker of magic danced along my bare skin as my clothes disappeared, and both his hands settled on my rear, kneading it. I drove my hips back in search of more contact.

His lips found the nape of my neck instead. A shiver ran through me as Rhys slowly kissed his way down my spine, the calluses on his fingers scraping closer to my core.

With his mouth occupied, his voice floated into my mind. *I've wanted to do this since I first saw your ass in leathers.

I reached a hand back, needing more of him. His fingers had nearly spread me open, but I'd barely touched him at all. He let out a low chuckle as my fingers scrabbled uselessly towards the fastenings of his pants, the tops of his thighs, any inch of him I could manage to reach.

If you want something, ask nicely. Otherwise, just let me take care of you.

"Ple—"

The door slammed open, the sound cutting through the air like a thunderbolt.

I yelped in surprise, straightening up. Rhys's power surrounded me in an instant, the darkness covering my nakedness like a cloak. A vicious snarl ripped from his throat, a savage, bestial threat.

He'd moved closer, putting his body and wingspan between me and whoever the intruder was. I shuffled to the side and peered around him to see what was going on.

Cassian had barged in, hair windswept, and there was a peculiar wild look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Without bothering with a greeting or even acknowledging Rhys, he looked at me and said, "Who hurt Nesta?"

"Did something happen?" I said, stomach already lurching. I was dimly aware of another tang of magic and my clothes reappearing on my body. The tendrils of night continued hovering around me protectively.

"Not recently, as far as I can tell."

I stepped out from behind Rhys. "Then what the hell are you talking about?"

Cassian took in a deep breath, slowly—carefully—letting it out. I'd never seen him like this, struggling to keep calm. He gripped the back of a nearby chair so tightly that the wood groaned.

I couldn't imagine what it took to rattle the most powerful Illyrian warrior in history.

After a moment, he said, "It's not faeries she's worried about. She wouldn't be the first woman to be skittish around our kind, and that's even without her seeing through glamours and your kidnapping. But the questions she asked, the way she flinched…someone put their hands on her. I'm sure of it."

Tomas Mandray, if I had to guess. Apparently, Nesta had listened to my warning, but we hadn't discussed the details. She probably would have snapped at me for prying if I'd asked, even out of sisterly concern.

And if she'd have my head for that, I couldn't imagine how badly she must have reacted when a strange faerie male had asked her about it. Even if it was his job to know and keep her safe.

No wonder Cassian seemed so agitated.

Rhys still hadn't spoken. At some point, his fingers had turned to talons, but he'd barely moved, just watched us intently. He was still refusing to interfere in anything involving my sisters, I realized. This matter remained mine to handle.

"I have my suspicions," I said slowly, not quite sure if naming Tomas was wise when Cassian seemed fully prepared to rip off his head and present it on a platter to Nesta, "but nothing concrete."

"Who?" Cassian's fingers twitched towards the dagger at his hip.

"If Nesta wants him dead, it needs to happen quietly. That makes it a job for Azriel, not you."

I felt a flicker of Rhys's approval through the bond, plus something warm that might have been pride. A muscle jumped in Cassian's jaw, but he nodded his assent. I loosed a breath.

"She's sharp-tongued, but your sister didn't ask for anything unreasonable. And she didn't kick me out of the house, so I think it went alright," Cassian said.

I motioned for him to sit, then debriefed him properly, asking for details. Despite all his bawdy humor and easy laughter, Cassian was still a soldier, and his polite yes ma'am and no ma'am had gone a long way with Nesta. So had adding himself to the rotation of sentries guarding the manor; he'd be nearby on a regular schedule, not merely giving orders from Prythian.

He regretted not being able to send female sentries, especially when the servants left and it was only Nesta and Elain in the manor at night. But during Amarantha's reign, the camp-lords had stopped training the girls, and they'd clipped the wings of the few existing female warriors. Safely extricating them from marriages they'd been forced into during the last fifty years was an ongoing, delicate operation that required coordination between Cassian, Rhys, and Clotho.

It would be a long time before Illyria would see any females with the training and experience required to guard the High Lord's family.

I needed to write Nesta another letter to ask for her side of the story. And to beg, perhaps, for advice on how to play courtier when I visited Day. But still, by the time Cassian left with a wink and a reminder to air out the study, some of my worries had eased.

My gaze slid to Rhys, who'd remained silent the entire time. "I know you have opinions about all of this," I said, ready to hear them.

"I anticipate we'll need Nesta's assistance getting the Book from the queens. It's in our best interest not to antagonize her," he said, crossing an ankle over his knee.

He wasn't wrong. I'd had the same thought, though I'd hoped that I could put off broaching the subject until after we'd secured the other half from Summer. If only to keep Elain safe, Nesta would agree eventually, though I dreaded the fight that would break out over it. We'd only just started getting along.

But something in Rhys's tone gave me pause. I cocked my head, studying him. "Is not antagonizing Nesta a problem for you?"

"That's not the issue." A non-answer, accompanied by a twitch of his wings.

"Then what?"

"Can I ask you to keep this between the two of us for now?" he said with a sigh. I nodded, then waited for him to continue. "Cassian would lay his life down for Nesta merely because she's a member of my family. And if someone did indeed hurt her, he would be right to be outraged by it. That said, I've known my brother a long time, and while he's certainly a hotheaded idiot, something getting under his skin to that degree is…unusual."

I could practically feel him holding something back. "Rhysand…"

"If I suspected someone had assaulted you, my reaction would have been similar."

I nearly scoffed and said it was impossible. But perhaps the bond in my chest was proof otherwise, and now that I thought about it, there had been something familiar in the wild look in Cassian's eyes. I'd seen it on Rhys—and I had probably looked the same way at the mention of Amarantha or Ianthe.

We were treading on dangerous ground.

"You— You truly think they might be mates?" I breathed.

"I don't think we can discount the possibility. My dreams of you predated your immortality, and Nesta is the only human I've known with a natural ability to see through glamours. There may be forces at play we're just beginning to understand."

I could see the logic in it. And in truth, it didn't seem to change much when we were already well aware of the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Perhaps this just meant Nesta was destined to neatly sidestep heartbreak in the same manner I had with Rhys. Tomas had never deserved her. But Cassian….Cassian would indeed be worthy of someone brave and loyal enough to trek through the winter woods to rescue me.

But I was getting ahead of myself. "Nothing to be done until a bond snaps, I suppose," I said, standing.

"I'll continue to defer to you where your family is concerned, of course. But I suggest that you avoid playing matchmaker."

His lips twisted into that particular smirk that told me he knew he'd correctly guessed my thoughts without even using his daemati abilities. More annoyingly, he was also right that we should let them sort it out. I said nothing, just kissed him to wipe the look off his face.

Rhys kept his promise from the morning, and I was bent over the desk again before long.

I spent the flight back to the townhouse feeling happily boneless and sated. As we ate dinner, I drafted a letter to Nesta. The response came a few hours later, appearing on my pillow just as I pulled on a nightgown.

Dear Feyre,

General Cassian lacks delicate manners and asks too many questions, but he appears competent, which is more important. The sentries are far more tolerable when I'm not convinced I'm going mad. As long as they don't come sniffing around Elain, they can stay. I wouldn't have chosen any of this, but considering the position you now occupy, I understand the necessity.

Elain is well. The social season is in full swing, and without Father here, my hands are full chasing away her many unscrupulous fortune-hunting suitors. It is, however, good to see her thriving at balls and parties again.

All my best to you and the new Mr. Archeron.

Nesta

I re-read it several times, marveling at her calling me "dear," even if it was courtesy rather than real affection. But there wasn't an insult or a harsh word to be found. Beyond that, she'd mentioned Rhys again, and it was strange to think of him as….well, an in-law someone might be on polite terms with.

I wasn't built for this sort of domesticity. Would we be sending Solstice cards next?

The next morning, I took the additional rest day that Rhys had urged me to. Instead of spending my morning in the training ring, I brought the letter to an isolated corner of the library and struggled my way through a response alone.

Dear Nesta,

I'm glad that Elain is well. I hope you mean that she is truly enjoying the time with friends this season. Your mention of suitors worries me. There is no reason for either of you to feel pressured to make a desirable match for status or money. If you marry at all, it should be for love. You and Elain deserve nothing less than the happiness I've found here in the Night Court.

And of course, if there are any issues with Cassian or the sentries, tell me. I'll make sure they're addressed.

I also wanted to let you know that I have an upcoming trip to the Day Court, so there will be a few days I won't be able to receive letters. I'll be going with Mor and Amren as Rhys's emissary. We need to visit some of their libraries and hopefully put some of the more nasty rumors about me to rest. No one in Prythian seems to know what to make of me, a human who now lives among the fae.

I'm…nervous. This is the sort of thing you were always good at, not me. I'm not supposed to be a lady who wears gowns and spends entire days surrounded by books, and I'm positive by the end of the visit I'll embarrass myself or worse. I know you'll probably say I'm hopeless, but if you have any advice at all, I could use it.

Yours, Feyre

I'd never written anything so long before. For a while, I just sat and stared at the paper before me, shocked I'd managed it. My handwriting was still embarrassingly childish, especially next to Nesta's elegant script, but it was legible enough.

It felt odd to commit my thoughts and feelings to paper—everything was there, in black and white, making me far more vulnerable than baring my soul in a painting ever did. I didn't want to think about that too deeply. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sealed the letter and sent it.

I couldn't stay in the too-quiet library and think about my shortcomings. What I wanted was the training ring—or failing that, a target I could shoot arrows into until my fingers bled around the bowstring. But I'd made a promise, so instead I spent the afternoon stalking around the perimeter of the Rainbow like a ghost.

Another day passed before I heard from Nesta, and she'd dutifully compiled a list of useful phrases to keep in mind—"How embarrassing for you", "What an odd thing to say", "A little small, I suppose, but it's very nice", among others. There had been some general advice as well, reminders to listen more than I talked and to cross my legs when I sat in a skirt.

At the end, in large letters, she'd added, Good luck.

When the day finally came to leave, I didn't feel much better. The last time I'd worn a white dress of my own volition, Nesta called me an idiot for getting grass stains on the hem. Hissing insults the whole time, she'd forced me inside to change before I embarrassed our mother at a dinner party she was throwing that night. I must have been seven or eight.

Now, I still didn't quite trust myself not to tear or stain the gown Cerridwen helped me into. Like silk, the fabric was cool and smooth against my skin, and despite being lightweight, it was also perfectly opaque and sturdy. Lines of embroidered night-blooming flowers circled the waist and hem, the stitching impossibly intricate. I'd never seen anything like it below the Wall.

Thin straps criss-crossed the open back—if I had them, the design would accomidate Illyrian wings. Instead, it merely showed off the powerful upper back muscles I'd gained from years of shooting a bow.

I hadn't asked where the dress came from, though I assumed Rhys had chosen it himself. Considering the amount of time he spent picking lint off his own clothes, I doubted he'd delegate the task of buying mine to someone else. Not that I minded—he had excellent taste.

Beyond that, I was relieved I hadn't needed to pick anything out myself for the trip to the Day Court. As an emissary, every aspect of my appearance sent a message. I assumed this gown suited the occasion.

But still, my stomach did a nervous little flip as Cerridwen set a diadem atop my head after pinning my hair up into an elegant braided bun. Even Mor didn't wear a crown.

I looked pretty, if slightly wrong. It wasn't just the crown—the cut of the dress was Day Court style. Probably better suited for bright sun and heat, but I wouldn't have chosen it for myself.

Rhys had left his dressing gown on my chair again. I fingered the midnight-blue cloth and met Cerridwen's eyes in the mirror. "Could you please pack this so we can take it with us?"

"Technically, you just asked me to steal from the High Lord," she said, voice stern even as the corner of her lips quirked up into a half-smile.

"Which isn't a bigger ask than anything Azriel has every instructed you to do."

She slid one last pin into my bun. "I'll make sure it gets packed with everything else. You can repay me by sitting still next time I arrange your hair."

I nearly told her it was a deal, but that was perilously close to a bargain. I didn't need another tattoo. Instead, I thanked her and made my way downstairs to be ready when Mor and Amren arrived.

Rhys—in reading glasses again—had stretched his long legs across the sofa as he skimmed the intelligence briefing that Cerridwen had delivered when she arrived. An expression I couldn't read flickered across his face as he drank in the sight of me. He barely seemed to take in the crown; it was the dress, I noticed, that made his lips part for a moment. I didn't understand why.

"Even more radiant than usual," he said, answering a question I hadn't been able to ask.

But still, I shrugged. "Easy to do when I don't set the bar very high most days."

His violet eyes seemed to shutter, even as he set the report down and came over to me. I let him pull me close, and his breath tickled my cheek as he sighed.

"One day, you'll believe it when I call you beautiful," he whispered.

Though I was a far cry from ugly, spending my days surrounded by the perfect, ethereal beauty of the fae made it hard to feel attractive. I said nothing—I could already imagine Rhys's smug reminder that mates were equals and the Cauldron had matched me with the most handsome High Lord for a reason.

Careful not to smudge the makeup Cerridwen had applied, Rhys pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder. I savored the closeness, the heat of him. My eyes fluttered shut.

The sound of Mor's voice made us both jump; we'd gotten so lost in each other that we hadn't noticed her winnow in with Amren. "Do you two ever manage to get your hands off each other?" she said.

"No," Rhys said, slowly—deliberately—raking his hand across my body, from my ribcage to my hip.

I reached up and cupped his cheek with my palm. "We don't."

Amren made a noise that might have been a gag. Rhys ignored it, tipping his head to kiss my hand, then dragging his nose down the inside of my wrist. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to memorize my scent before I left.

Cauldron, I was going to miss him.

"I am certainly not explaining to Helion that we're late because you can't stop sniffing your mate," Amren hissed.

Also choosing to ignore her, I pulled Rhys closer and kissed him goodbye. Mor stood with her arms out, waiting to winnow us, and once I pulled away from Rhys, I slipped my hand into hers. Rhys's gaze slid to Amren, and for a moment, I wondered if they were speaking mind-to-mind.

"Don't give me that look," Amren said, taking Mor's other hand. "You know perfectly well it's not that sort of mission, but yes, I'll protect her with my life, High Lord."

"Mine, too. Don't give your brothers too much trouble while we're gone," Mor said.

We faded into mist, and the distance hit me like a brick. The last time I'd been this far from Rhys, I'd been in Velaris and he'd been Under the Mountain. Our mating bond seemed to groan in protest, and for a moment, I felt as if it might rip my rib right out of my chest. As we materialized, the pain faded to a dull ache.

…only to be replaced by the discomfort of too-bright sunlight shining directly into my eyes. I squinted and dropped Mor's hand.

The three of us stood on a balcony overlooking a city full of white limestone towers and domed golden roofs. Everything seemed to reflect the sunlight back into the sky, and a hazy heat made the air feel heavy. I had the sudden urge to find a rock and lie motionlessly like a lizard or stretch out in a sunbeam like a lazy, contented cat.

Once my eyes adjusted, my gaze dropped down to the balcony floor, where colorful shadows danced along the white stone. I turned and found the source—hanging ornaments of colored glass dangling in the open archway. Each intricate shape seemed expertly carved to best reflect the the sunlight, and if we weren't about to meet with a High Lord, I would have stepped closer to appreciate the artistry.

Though…there wasn't a High Lord in sight. Or any advisors or courtiers here to greet us, either. "Where is he?" I said.

"Due east," Mor said. "He might be a bit far for human eyes to spot just yet, but he'll be here soon."

Once I shielded my eyes, I could just make out a dark spot against the cloudless blue sky. The outline of wings came into view, and for a moment, I thought I might be looking at an Illyrian. Then again, if Rhys had a hidden set of wings, so might the other six High Lords. Maybe they'd all tucked them away Under the Mountain…

But no—the wings belonged to a horse. And Helion was its rider.

Back in his own domain and with his magic returned, the High Lord of the Day Court seemed to glow even more powerfully. Like Rhys's, Helion's skin had returned to a healthy dark color now that he was no longer confined underground—though if I dared paint them, I'd need a deeper burnt umber pigment for Helion. He wore the same crisp white bolt of cloth I'd seen before, now with the addition of a radiant spiked golden crown. It glinted atop his onyx hair, which had been arranged into a cascade of small braids adorned with golden beads.

The stallion he rode was just as beautiful as its rider. The jet-black horse was all muscle, its fur gleaming in the sun and the hair of its mane billowing in the wind off its wings. I stood, transfixed by the creature's graceful movement through the air.

"Thank the Mother," Mor breathed at my left. "Meallan is his most beloved pegasus—I'm glad Amarantha didn't manage to butcher him along with the others."

Meallan's hooves clicked as he alighted on the balcony, and Helion patted his thick, muscular neck before swinging a powerful leg over the beast's flank and dropping easily to his feet. He approached us, amber eyes wary. I braced myself for bows and formal greetings, ready to play courtier.

But when Helion's gaze landed on Mor, his expression softened, as if he was too overwhelmed to continue keeping up appearances. "It's so good to see you alive," he said, pulling her into a hug.

I caught Mor's smile as she squeezed him back and said, "It's been a long fifty years, but you don't look like you've aged a day."

Azriel's words from weeks ago came back to me—that everyone knew I had been the reason for reunions like this. The thought bolstered my confidence, and I stood a little straighter.

But as Helion released Mor, he turned to Amren next. "A pleasure as always," he said, giving her a brief nod.

I tried to look unbothered as Helion's attention finally landed on me. A lazy smile spread across his face, and it took everything in me not to hide my left hand behind my back. If he'd known I was glamoured Under the Mountain, then he surely detected the spells covering my tattoo and my scent just as easily here in his domain. As I waited for him to say something about it, I forced myself to keep breathing.

But all he said was, "Welcome to the Day Court, Cursebreaker."