#or the more comments they get the more money they get

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ final island (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x reader

tw : fluff; suggestive, tiny tiny angst, jealousy love island coupling, mentions of other celebs as cast,

fc : Jung HoYeon

a/n : I REALLY HOPE Y’ALL LIKE THIS, THIS IS THE FINALE OF LOVE ISLAND

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2 and 2,465,926 others

loveislanduk AND THEY WERE DUNKED ! EP IS OUT NOW !

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user1 BAHAHA JUDE GETTING DUMPED IN WATER

user2 when yn was asked to name the most attractive guy in the island and she didn’t even take a second to respond to lando’s name -

user3 the episode was just yn ignoring Jude for the 100th time

user4 shout out to Lando’s partner, she knows he is taken and is respectfully maintaining her distance

user5 Lando and her are so cute friends

user6 can’t believe instead of grafting, the girl is giving tips on how to sneak to meet yn-

user7 JUDE CANT EVEN GET Y/N’S FAVOURITE COLOUR WHILE LANDO HAS LITERALLY MEMORISED “Pantone 1617-TCX Burgundy”

user8 can’t believe the finale is here 😭

user9 I DONT WANT THIS TO END

user10 just propose already lando

liked by user1, user2 and 3,126,927 others

loveislanduk MOVIE NIGHT BEFORE THE FINAL RECOUPLING

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user1 LANDO ASKED YN TO BE HIS GIRLFRIEND

user2 WHILE SHE PAIRED WITH JUDE -

user3 now this is what I am paying my bills for

user4 SHE SAID YESSSS

user5 the look on the girls- they are all so happy for her

user6 judes sulking so much

user7 as he should !!

user8 but fr, the way jude has been cheating, thank God is was all shown in the video

user9 the girl talk on thong size-

user10 the embarrassed faces of the girls 🔝

liked by user1, user2 and 2,365,245 others

loveislanduk YN CHOSE LANDO !!

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user1 we are going to pretend it was a surprise?

user2 he literally asked her out

user3 the tears of joy of finally being together

user4 NO MORE JUDE

user5 the hug made me feel good lonely i am

user6 they make me believe reality shows aren't that bad

user7 i swear they are going to win

user8 as much as they might win, i think the other couple might win

user9 true, they didn't have much drama ( THANKS JUDE )

user10 well at least they are together!!!

liked by user1, user2 and 1,347,378 others

lando that 50k is going to the bachelor party

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user1 THEY WON

user2 I HAVE NEVER SEEN LANDO CRY SOO MUCH

user3 THEY WAY LANDO IMMEDIATELY Kept THE BALL, SAYING HE CHOSE YN OVER MONEY

charlesleclerc welcome to the paddock yn!!!

liked by lando

user4 NEW WAG IN THE HOUSE !!!

user5 it was all over too soon

user6 LANDO PLEASE BUY SHIRTS

user7 yn, please buy him shirts

user8 I swear I have forgotten the last time I saw him with a shirt

user9 their height difference is cute, idk why people not talk about it

user10 YN IS TALLER THAN LANDO 😭

liked by user1, user2 and 1,463,836 others

sojuyn 4 months with my number 4

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let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee

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@teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

My favorite one | Salesman x Fem!Recruiter!Reader

Summary: Usually recruiters does not meet with each other. But with you its different.

Warnings: Spoilers from Salesman's past - Dub/con - Possessive!Salesman - Obsess!Salesman - Walking red flag - You are his favorite -

The Salesman walked down the stairs of a centrain station, the sound of the last train leaving but what could still be hear were the slaps and grunts. He stopped and watched, delighted.

There you stood with a fake kind smile looking at a guy with a very red cheeck, not joke you had used more Force than necesary.

"Again"

"Of course Sir" Your sweet voice filled his ears as you stepped aside to leave space for the young Man to do his play.

And lost. Like other times you slapped him and The Salesman felt the rush of adrenaline go down his spine having to hold himself back from whistle at it.

"I- I cant continue"

"Sir, your attempts have been incredible" no they were not "I believe this time will be yours. Besides a few wones...and a hot meal"

There it was, his little snake letting out her poison to make that loser go again.

And finally (because you were getting bored) the Man won. He jumped and even hugged you (something that made The Salesman's body tense and wish for him to die in the main games. That worm should not touch you).

"Good work Sir. Here your money. And if you want to win more money here" The Card, the Devil's Card there it was. But with you, your smile and kind eyes offering it was like an Angel was giving him a chance.

He saw how you changed once the man left. Smile off, eyes sharp and body tense. You moved your neck and adjusted your tie as you took your own briefcase.

"Enjoying the show" Your voice called at him and he had to hide his smile. Of course you will notice him, even if he never made a noise.

"Very much. Your act was....a delight to see" He said standing by your side body not touching yet.

"It better be. It must be so they bite the hoock" You responded looking up at him, feeling the weight of his eyes on you.

It was like that every time he looked at you. Like he was studying you, like he owned you, like you were his.

And maybe in a sense you were. You knew who he was but after years, your body stills feels itself disgust when you remember how close he has always been.

He smiled, he knew your brain was working now. He knew you felt like a small prey when he was close. Like you had no control. And in a way it was like that. He loved it, you could be so ruthless but with him your facade was lost and only the most primal feelings were left.

"Shall we get ourselfs some dinner then?" He tilted his head to the side knowing you wont say no.

"Alright, I still need to mark down some names, but these wont appear tonight it seems" You responded getting your brief case looking at him then as his hand and back at him.

This must be a joke.

You took it much to his own ego that seemed to get bigger everytime he got you to do something he wanted, following his order was almost your second nature.

Almost. And he knew it. He just needed to keep working for it to be a second nature that you would always follow.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

122 That was his number back when he was a mere Circle Guard, burning bodies for the little pay of food and a bed. 121 was yours, always working at his side. You two were together for so much time He learned your body language, being able to tell it was you without having to look at your number.

It was so unfair, how much you plagued his mind. From your work, perfect and on time, to the small little details. Moving your hands when you did not like what a higher rank said or the order. How your shoulders tensed when other Circle Guards talked about a female player and how they wanted to have their fun with her.

He had decided that you were his. One number under him, it was logical that you would be his and only his. He shilded you from these comments and guards. Was at every work besides you. If he needed to exchange turns or do more hours just to be with you then so be it.

What drove him mad was how you seemed to not...care or the little attention you gave. At first he passed it as you being too focus in surviving and does your tasks to impress the higher ranks.

But it was more than that. He discovered it when he was moved to Triangle Guard and his number change to 233, while he did see you less and less he still could tell who you were. Just from seeing the way you walk.

But you ? You never noticed him. And like that he decided to give you a reason to never forget him.

It was not strange for Guards to seek out pleasure with each other. While it was never openely spooken it was something that happened.

Like that he got you on your knees, still fully dressed aside from your mask. Him only letting his hard dick out as you sucked him with vigour while he tangled his hand on your hair to guide your mouth forcing himself deeper.

"You are so good number 121, how havent you got a promotion" He mocked as his hips went faster. "Do I need to put a good word for you?" He asked again pushing deeper till your nose hit his skin.

"Oh it seems your mouth is full now" He said feeling his balls get thighter with his cum, almost cumming when he felt your troath close around him.

He did with a groan, he filled your mouth forcing you to swallow all of it. To not waste a single drop.

"Thats my good 121" He said pulling himself together and leaving first so you would collect yourself.

Not a week later you were given a gun and a new mask. You forced yourself to think it was because of your work and not becuase of him. What you hated the most ? 121 was still your number.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Taking down players was easier than burning their bodies. You had to be honest with yourself. Time to time you thought these were just experiments that have failed a test and were now paying the consequences.

Please please I-

But the game rules were clear, you either made it or not. And this was did not pass. One single bullet took his life and was by your hand.

The game was complete. You saw the circle guards preparing to clean the place something that used to be your job. You moved from the area following the rest of the guards when a gloved hand stopped you.

A Square Guard, the highest rank. But somehow you knew it was the same Guard. The Triangle one, even if his number was now other one it was still him.

You had to admit he was good as a Triangle guard, no suprise he was so quick to get on the Square rank. The only unsetting thing was how he always worked on your turns. You never had another Square guard watching your work, everytime it felt like he was proving you.

Oh and he was. He knew you knew it was him. It made him feel special, being able to have an eye on you all the time. Watching you pull your gun out and kill the players aroused him to no end.

He felt pride from it, like he had been the one who made you that way. The one who made you so cold heart but could destroy you at the same time.

He guided the Triangle Guards away from the game arena, leaving the cleaning to the Circle Guards. Once all of them had left their guns he called your number making you follow him to a completly different part of the usual maze.

Black doors opened revealing the figure of the Front Man himself and for a moment you thought you had fucked up badly.

"Take off your mask. All of it"

It was the first time you got to see his face, and fuck was he handsome indeed, dark messy hair and deep brown eyes. He side glanced at you and smirked knowing fully well you were watching him.

To him this was not the first time seeing your face, well it was the first time in the flesh. He had to control his urge not to push you against the near wall and kiss you right there. But his Boss was present and while he did not mind if someone watched he did want to keep a good impression.

The Front Man said both your names as he talked. You two would now be out of the island and work as "Recruiters", first there would be training and a final test. If you failed then you would go back to being a Circle Guard. If not you would become a Recruiter.

For you it was a door to get away from him. You never had any particular feeling for the games, your morals were left behind long time ago. But him, you were tired of him. How could you tell you were being stalked when being on the same dan place ? And worse ? He was your superior.

And so both took the necesary training. And (saddly) both ended becoming Recruiters. The good thing was, Recruiters were not supossed to cross each other, at least their designated places were never mean to cross.

But He knew better. He had waited for too long for a chance like this one. He followed the rules and became the best Recruiter. Which gave him some favoritism among the rest. And he was able to get your route and even the names of the ones you were supossed to recruit.

He had watched you multiple times. And when someone did not take the money but slap you instead, well that same person found his end not too soon after it. He would never let anyone (but himself) lay a hand on you or make you cry.

Your tears were mean to be caused by him. From the intense pleasure he would push you throw, from the sadistic ways he would make you scream and beg on his bed, while you told him it was too much. But the feeling of your hands on his back as he pressed deeper letting his cum fill you up, his dick pulsating with each thrust. These were the only tears that were mean to come from you.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Whats on your mind?" Your voice made him came back from his little travel in memory.

He smiled taking your hand in his as he drank a bit of water. You two needed to work tomorrow and had a thight schendelure. He could invite you (or make you, it depended on you) to drink on saturday night.

"Nothing important, just...thinking on how long we have know each other" He said, his smile having a hint of possession and maybe something more, something soft.

"Im never getting rid of you, im wrong?"

"Oh Dear, no." He said his grip on your hand hardering "You wont ever ger rid of me. Not even for a second. Its best if you start to get used to it. We are in for a long ride together"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

[agoodflyting]

Gods, yes, this.

I've been doing fandom shit since before the internet was a household thing and over the last ten years it has changed so drastically for the worse. I loathe the terms 'consumer' and 'content creator' with a passion.

Do you know the origin of those terms? Hopefully you know that every single social media app has one goal - to get you to spend as much time as possible looking at ads, so that the company can make money. Consumer and Content Creator are the terms created by this ad-selling industry to reduce people to their role in this process. 'Content creators' make things, which the social media program hosts and then intersperses with ads, so that 'consumers' look at both the ads and the content. That's what those terms mean.

You are not a consumer. You are a person who gets joy from certain things. They are not a content creator. They are a person who gets joy from making certain those things. We are more than the role we play in making some tech bro money. Unfortunately, when all the spaces you use to do your fandom things use that same terminology, it's easy to start internalizing it.

But back to the main point - consumer and content creator are both passive terms. Content creators endlessly make things and release them into the void where they are mindlessly consumed. That is the antithesis of a fandom, which is by-nature a collaborative space. If you consider yourself a fan of something, then you are part of a community and you damn well need to act like it. Stop letting capitalism define your fandom experience. Comment on posts, comment on fics, message people. Every single screen name you see is a person who likes the same stuff as you. They are not a mindless entity that churns out things for you to look at. If you're uncomfortable commenting on someone else's post, or fic, or what-have-you, then you need to ask yourself why. For most people, it's just because you aren't used to that kind of person-to-person interaction, because your entire internet experience has been curated to push you away from that sort of thing, by someone who makes more money the longer you spend mindlessly 'consuming' ads along with your content.

I think there's something that needs to be said about encouraging readers to leave feedback.

For me it's not about "tell me my writing is amazing and stroke my ego"

It's more about "please engage with me so that I can experience your joy secondhand and foster a connection with you"

I understand that not everyone wants this in their reading experience, some people are shy and a million other reasons why maybe someone wouldn't want to engage and that's perfectly fine!

But what I'm trying to steer away from is being a passive content creator with passive consumers. What I want to steer toward is fostering a community that is essential to fandom. I want to see your reactions because it makes me feel like I'm a part of something.

On encouraging reblogs —

I understand that not everyone is comfortable reblogging, especially explicit content. This is ok!

But just consider that the only reason you were able to enjoy a fic or fanart is because someone else shared it, and by not sharing it yourself you are potentially robbing someone else of the opportunity to enjoy it as much as you did.

As OPs our reach only goes so far and this website relies on reblogs in order for anything to truly get seen by a wider audience.

So that's really it! That's why I encourage these two things at the end of every story I post. Not because I'm trying to be demanding and "make people feel bad" if they don't do it.

I know most other social media sites encourage mindless content consumption and that's just the way of the world nowadays, but I am from a time when community was at the heart of fandom and I just don't want to lose that.

[pucksandpower]

So … I rarely talk about politics on here. I prefer to take action in real-life, and put my time and money where my mouth is.

But, as a medical student and a United States citizen, there are some things I need you to know.

- Unfortunately, many states have laws requiring healthcare providers ask patients about their immigration status. You do not have to answer this. Despite what is encoded into law, you will not be turned away nor reported, especially if you are seeking emergency services. Do not let fear stop you from getting the care you need, that’s what the government wants.

- An executive order has withdrawn the United States from the World Health Organization. While the WHO is not perfect, they are responsible for some of the most comprehensive research networks, vaccine initiatives, healthcare surveillance systems, and pandemic response protocols around the globe. Every healthcare provider and medical student I know is worried about what this means for our future and the standard of care we are able to provide nationally.

- Dismantling DEI programs only serves to hurt already marginalized communities. Contrary to what the White House claims, DEI initiatives do not allow “less qualified” applicants to enter the workforce. Instead, they provide individuals who have systematically been given less opportunities a more equitable playing field. For example, only about 6.9% of physicians identify as Hispanic and about 5.7% of physicians identify as Black or African American in the United States. This is extremely disproportionate when looking at ethnicity statistics of the country as a whole. And it largely comes down to the same root cause — lack of resources. No medical school is accepting unqualified applicants, that’s simply a fact. What DEI initiatives do promote, however, is qualified applicants to study and eventually become healthcare providers. Because guess what? Research has shown that physicians of color are most likely to practice in underserved communities and provide medical care to some of the patients who need it most.

There is so much more I want to say that can’t be adequately condensed into a short post on tumblr. But what I can do is try to do my small part in educating how current events are going to trickle down and affect national healthcare as we know it.

My comments, messages, and inbox are always open for anyone who wants to talks.

[idkshithead]

having a bad day .ೃ࿐

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

╰┈➤ ❝ seong gi-hun x fem!reader ❞

ʚɞ ๋࣭⭑ — tws: age gap (reader is 25, gi-hun is 47) mention of murder, mention of self-harm, pts.

ೀ ⋆.˚ — genre: fluff!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ — summary: you've had a really shitty day so when u get home from university your bf is there to comfort you and cheer you up.

・❥・ — a/n: hii! i’m new here and this is my first time publishing a ff🥹 i wrote this out of boredom so idk if it’s good. also my first language isn’t english so i’m sorry for eventual mistakes, i appreciate every kind and constructive advice on how to be better(no insults or hate tho!)<3 if i think your comment is hateful or disrespectful or anything like that, i’ll delete it! so be nice pls🫶🏻

❕ — warnings: timeline is season 2 but i changed his age. if you don’t like age gaps/have problems with them GET OUT👉🏻

enjoy! ❤︎

It was 9 PM in Ssangmun-dong and you were walking down the empty, rain-soaked street you travel every day. You were carrying a heavy backpack, the straps digging into the skin of your left shoulder, a sign that it was full of notebooks. The dim streetlights flicker, casting a dull glow across the wet floor and your footsteps were covered by the constant "pats" of the rain drops falling to the ground. The downpour was rentless and it was drenching your clothes and your nice hair but you barely seemed to notice cause your mind was wrapped up in something else. It had been a very tough day and you wanted nothing more but to be in your boyfriend's comforting arms.

His name was Seong Gi-hun. You weren't korean but you thanked God you moved there when you were 18 cause if you didn't, you probably wouldn't have met him. The day you two crossed paths was almost 4 years ago and you remember it like it was yesterday: he used to have a gambling addiction and thanks to your friend, who brought you with her to gamble, you found him. Or even better, he found you cause the very first time he bumped onto you as he was getting chased by some men; meanwhile the other times, you went to talk to him cause you found him pretty cute and...pathetic.

At the time you were 21 and he was 43 but you really didn't care about the age gap. Plus, he looked younger than he actually was. The first weeks you two started to date as close friends and soon you learned he’s got a 10 years old daughter and an ex-wife. They divorced because of his addiction which led to him having several debts that he couldn't pay. His daughter's name was Ga-yeong and she was very sweet, just like her father. She liked you even and you, of course, liked her back. As the days went by, Ga-yeong revealed you her father's secret: he liked you and every time he knew he was going to see you, he would put up nice clothes and adjust his hair; and she hoped you would like him back but God, how could you not like him? He was such a gentleman, so sweet, so respectful, so caring; this headed to both of you starting a relationship (a serious one too), and at first it was hard due to his addiction. Firstly because every time he didn't pay his debt in time, he would get beaten up and threatened to be killed. So many times you would yell at him cause he spent all his money, and the one you gave him, to gamble but you understood that yelling and getting mad wasn't the right solution of solving this, thus you got used to it and you were determined to help him go through that shit. Later you met his mom and his childhood friend whose name was Sang-woo and you were actually surprised they didn't think less of you just because you were younger. If you were in your native country, everybody would look at you as a person of no value and would think he was a pedophile, even tho you were a grown ass adult. Before him, you've been in a toxic relationship for 2 years; between cheating, threats and punches, you managed to leave that guy.

Gi-hun, on the other hand, treated you so good it was overwhelming, to the point that you didn't even think you deserved to be treated like this, to be loved and you were glad he proved you wrong so damn sure you weren't gonna let go of him just because he was older. He helped you going through your self-harm addiction, he helped you with your traumas and insecurities. Basically, he was a mix of the perfect yet worse man to date.

Not even a year later tho, he disappeared for a whole week without any news or informations. You were so fucking worried about him and you never stopped calling him and searching for him. You even talked to his mother every day but she always said she had no clue of where he was and the police, of course, didn’t give a shit. Often times you thought that he got himself killed due to his non-paid debts but you really didn't want to think about it so you liked to think that maybe he was out of town and didn't call you. Or maybe he just decided to cut off contact with everybody and left. In that time, your own self-harm addiction got worse due to the stress and the fact that he had left. Everything went down once more. Your life was falling apart and you didn’t know what to think at this point. Was it your fault? Was it his fault? You didn’t know.

Yet he eventually came back to you, all injured as if he had been in a rough fight and apologized to you so many times as you cried and punched his chest due to the all the overwhelming emotions you didn’t manage to let out. He told you he found his mom dead in his house. In some ways, you felt guilty that you didn't help him with the medicines for her cause you had some money but most of it would go to the men he had to repay. He talked about the games he’s done, about all the murdered people.

You couldn't believe him, of course and thought he was just very drunk but the day after you realized it wasn't like that.

A year later he wanted to move in America to go to his daughter but soon changed his mind when he knew that the recruiter of those games was still out there so you both moved to a motel as he searched for him all day, every day.

He barely slept and he started to smoke more, which broke your heart to see him like this. So tired, so traumatized and you realized that the old Gi-hun would never come back, even tho a part of him was still the same when he was with you. When he finished to pay his debts, thanks to the money he earned from those sick games, he called Mr. Kim, the boss of loan sharks, to help him find this recruiter.

The only times you saw each other, tho, was in the evening cause in the morning you went to university while he kept searching for that man among the city. He always apologized to you for never spending much time together but you always reassured him that it was completely okay and that it was nobody's fault. You knew how insecure he got after that traumatic event tho you tried your best to comfort him. After he lost Sang-woo, Sae-byeok and Ali; after he saw so many innocent people die because of the God called money. They all died in front of him and sometimes he could still see their blood on his face, on his hands, on his body. Everywhere.

He became even more possessive and protective over you to the point that he made you install a gps on your phone or any other device you owned, in case you’d be in trouble or something and he eventually taught you how to shoot cause you asked him.

So here you were, 2 years later, having a shitty, rough day, soaked wet due to the rain, heading back home and already feeling guilty cause Gi-hun had to comfort you from your stupid, dumb and idiotic problems. You didn't even know if he was home by that time and if he wasn't, you would go take a shower and eventually fall asleep on the couch while miserably trying to wait awake for him. As always.

When you approached the motel you both lived in, you grabbed your keys from your pocket and opened the principal door. You entered and closed it before taking your way up the stairs. Once you reached the door of your shared apartment you opened that one too, slowly closing it behind you. You weren't expecting Gi-hun to be home but when you heard his voice, you felt kinda relieved.

"Y/n? Is that you?" you heard him say. You didn't answer and you didn't know why. Maybe cause you were so tired you didn't even have the strength to breathe, to say the least.

You took off your shoes and walked through the small corridor before reaching the living room and put the keys on the round table at the center of the room. You quite ignored your boyfriend who was very worried when he saw you completely drenched.

"Hey..why didn't you bring an umbrella with you this morning?" he asked softly as he approached you and rubbed both of your shoulders. You were glad to hear his loving voice after a long day.

You let your backpack fall on the ground, causing it to make a loud noise and grabbed a small, broken umbrella which was in a side pocket of the backpack, before placing it on the table, too.

"I did." you managed to say. Your voice was barely audible and you were on the verge of breaking down, thing that he immediately noticed but before he could talk, you threw yourself onto him to hug him. Your arms wrapped around his body tightly as you cried quietly. His nice yet smokey smell invaded your nose and you took all in. You didn't pay attention to his outfit but you were so sure he was wearing his usual baggy pants and large jacket.

He didn't think twice before holding you tight against him and his right hand found its way to rub your hair while the other rubbed your back. He had this way of hugging you, of comforting you as a way to shield and protect you from the world that you didn't even know how it was possible but that's how his hugs, his touch made you feel. It has been a long time since you last cried and let go of everything in front of him but that night you really needed it.

"It's okay baby, I've got you. I'm here." he mumbled softly to your ear. He slowly started to rock himself back and forth, as if you were his little child afraid of monsters hiding under the bed.

He didn't ask you what had happened cause he knew it wasn't useful in that moment. He knew that all you wanted was comfort and reassurance. He didn't care that you were all wet and soaked, he cared about trying to make you stop crying and he managed to do so since you calmed down after some minutes. He pulled back slightly, enough for him to be able to see the sad look on your face.

He cupped your cheeks and wiped your last tears away.

"It's okay. You let it all out?" he kindly asked you and you slowly nodded. He wanted to make sure your chest didn't feel as heavy. Then he leaned in and placed a soft, tender kiss on your forehead.

"How about you go take off these wet clothes and take a shower while i prepare the couch for some cuddles to cheer that sad pretty little face up, hm?" he asked while moving a strand of hair out of your face.

"And then maybe, if you feel like doing so, you tell me what's gotten you so upset." he then added.

His voice was so soft, sweet and full of love it made you want to cry again out of happiness but you fought the urge. He somehow always knew what were the right words to say and in which tone he had to pronounce them. It was incredible. That man was incredible.

You slowly nodded and he escorted you to the bathroom as he told you to call him for anything you needed. He didn't hurry anything, he told you to take your slow and nice time, he would be there waiting for you.

You softly thanked him and closed the bathroom door, opening the water in the shower. You really didn't know what good things you did in life to have someone as loving as him as your partner but you preferred to not question anything and to just appreciate everything he gave you, everything that life (or God) gave you.

You knew he told you to take your time and to wash yourself slowly and stuff but you were so happy and enthusiastic to cuddle with him, that your shower lasted 10 minutes. When you got out, you could hear him doing stuff on the other side of the wall and you called out his name.

"Yes, my love?" said he while opening the door. He had a small yet genuine smile on his face and you knew he was doing all of that just to make you feel better.

"Can you...bring me one of your shirts..?" you mumbled.

"I know they're much larger than my size but-" you were cut off by the door closing. You didn't know exactly why he shut the door on you talking but you really hoped he didn't mean to do so. Later, he returned in the room, holding a stuffed clothed in between his hands, turning out it was one of his large shirts.

He walked towards you and handed you the cloth, before cupping your cheeks again and kissing your temple.

"You know you don't owe me any explanation. Whatever you want, i'll give it to you. You could ask me to wear my underwear and i wouldn't question it." he explained gently.

"Even tho that would be weird." he continued and chuckled slightly and you did so. You felt a warm feeling in your chest. A feeling that only he was able to bring you and you will forever be grateful to him.

"Thank you.." you murmured and smiled.

"There it is that pretty smile." he said and pinched your cheeks gently, causing you to widen your smile.

He then told you he would wait for you as you got dressed and later he dried your wet hair cause he didn't want his girl to make such efforts when she was so tired already.

A few more minutes passed by and after you got all showered, dried and dressed, you were both laying in each other's arms on the couch. Your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around your body while one hand stroked your soft hair.

"You feel like telling me what's wrong?" he asked softly, in which you answered with a nod.

You began by explaining that you hadn't slept much the night before, which was the main reason you woke up already feeling upset and exhausted. You were so tired that you really didn't feel like going to university, but you had a test and knew you had no choice, so you forced yourself to get up. Just when you stepped out of the apartment, it started raining heavily, and you got all wet because your umbrella wouldn't open properly. Once you finally made it to the university, you sat down to take the test, but you were so distracted by your exhaustion that you were sure you had messed up every single question. Your mind wasn't in the right place, your eyes felt heavy, and you couldn't focus. Everything felt like a disaster. After the test and the rest of your lessons, the wind picked up on your way home and your umbrella finally broke so you had nothing to protect yourself, leaving you even more soaked. And as if your day hadn't already been terrible enough, a car sped through a puddle and splashed you completely. You felt overwhelmed, defeated by the anger and stress that had built up throughout the day.

As you were telling all of this you still felt kinda upset but when he spoke again, you really forgot the reason of why your day went bad.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, my love. You should’ve called me, i would've picked you up with the car." he said with disappointment. Not towards you, but towards all the factors that made you so sad and also at himself. He could’ve gave you a call instead of focusing on finding that son of a bitch.

"I didn't want to bother you..." you mumbled, as your fingers traced comforting circles on his clothed chest.

"You know you never bother me, y/n." he said firmly. He didn't like the fact that you could even think you were a bother or a burden to him.

"Yeah but what if right when i call you, you find the guy you've been searching for years?" you asked and got your head up slightly to look at him. You could feel his hesitation before answering but when he did, you knew he was sincere.

"I'd still pick you up. As much as i wanna find that man, you come first. I didn't put so much effort in us for nothing, you know." he smiled slightly at his last sentence and placed his large hand on your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Hmm.." you murmured and sighed. You gently rested your chin on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath you and the warmth of his body comforting against your skin, while your head remained slightly turned to face him, allowing you to study his face closely. Your gaze lingered on each feature—his relaxed yet tired expression, the curve of his jaw, the corners of his lips slightly turned upward—capturing every detail that made him, him, as if you were memorizing them.

You didn't know how he managed to look that handsome for his age. Not that he was that old, but still.

"Have you been sleeping these days?" you kindly asked him. You knew, deep down, that he would always look after you, putting your needs before his own, but at the same time, you saw how little care he took of himself. It was as if he neglected his own well-being in favor of focusing on everyone else; you, above everyone. Every time you noticed him pushing himself too hard or ignoring his own health, you'd find yourself gently scolding him, urging him to take a moment for himself, though you knew he'd brush it off. In the end, this was just who he was.

"Yes, a bit." he answered and you could feel he was being honest but still decided to make sure.

"Are you sure?" your tone was low and comforting, yet full of worry. You noticed the small bags under his eyes, you noticed his tired expression and often times you would feel guilty that he had to reassure you while he was feeling so defeated.

"Yes, i'm sure." he said sweetly and pinched the tip of your nose softly.

You subtly pushed yourself up, enough to lean your face closer to his, and pecked his lips. Your chest was now in contact with his and your hands were placed one between his hair and the other on the soft mattress of the couch, surrounding yourself.

"You look so tired..." you whispered while caressing his scalp. Your faces only inches away. He moved his hand to grasp your waist while the other was still on your cheek.

"Yeah but you always bring all my energies back.." he whispered back, causing you to smile a bit.

Your eyes wavered all over his face, admiring everything about him as your pupils dilated some more, as if turning into a heart shape. You didn't know exactly what did u see in him, but you saw something. Maybe that's how real love feels like: inexplicable. Almost as if it's no sense.

Then, you sighed and looked away from him.

"I'm sorry." said you while resting your head next to his. He looked at you confused.

"For what?" he asked and adjusted himself so that he could look at you but also be in a comfortable position. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed hard.

"I don't know..that you gotta take care of my shit while you're already feeling defeated and stuff.." you explained, almost whimpering.

"I notice how tired you are every day..we barely see or talk to each other before the evening and when i see you like this i feel like a burden or like i'm not doing enough for you...i don't know, i just miss you.." you added. You didn't want to add more pressure and stress on his shoulders but you needed to tell him.

You saw his expression on his face, focused on listening to you and all your rantling and he looked sad.

"Y/n..." he started.

"Honey, don't say that again. Yes i am tired but that doesn't mean i don't gotta take care of you when you feel down as well. Just because we're both not having the best of the days, it doesn't mean we gotta ignore each other or something like that. I take care of you cause i want to. Cause it makes me feel better when i manage to bring your smile back." he gently explained while playing with some strands of your hair, in a desperate attempt to soothe you.

"I'm sorry we barely see or talk to each other during the day, i wish we both had more time one for the other even tho at night i try to stay up as much time as possible, even if you are asleep cause i wanna make up for lost time." he continued, hoping you'd understand his words. You lowkey wished things went different. Wished that he never went to play those sick games.

"Yeah but...i don't know, i just wish i could do more for us, for you. You always take care of me but i never do enough to take care of you.." she said. Your tone of voice hid a hint of sadness in it.

"No, y/n. You do more than enough and that's what matters. I will always appreciate the little things you do cause i know how much effort you put into them. I know you love me, i know you care about me. I don't have to worry about anything else." he said. He knew you wouldn't believe him but he hoped that he managed to reassure you even if it was just for the moment.

You nodded slowly at his words and accepted them. You hid your face into the crock of his neck and snuggled against him, holding him as tight as you could, wanting to enjoy his company, his warmth for the night. His fingers found their ways in between your thin hair and caressed your scalp while the other hand was busy holding you against him. He wanted to protect you from everything and everyone. He wanted you to feel safe and he'd do anything to not let you get hurt.

He started to whisper reassuring words in your ear to facilitate your sleep.

“Please don’t ever leave me, Gi-hun.” you mumbled.

"I won’t, I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you." those were the last words you heard from him before you sweetly murmured: "I love you.." and drifted off to sleep.

He kissed your head tenderly and whispered an "I love you, too" muffled before closing his eyes and fully relaxing his body under yours, feeling his thoughts drifting away into dreams.

So there you were, both laying in each other arms after days full of stress and pressure, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable and to rest for the night.

[notiddygothgf]

SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already. 

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you. 

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money. 

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging. 

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock. 

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you. 

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise. 

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye. 

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.”  Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?” 

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him. 

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch. 

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were. 

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare. 

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.” 

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally. 

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him. 

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision. 

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled? 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be. 

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate: 

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly: 

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied: 

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.  

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”  

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”  

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”  

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”  

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”  

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”  

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”  

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”  

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.  

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.  

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.  

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.  

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.  

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”  

“Wait—”  

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”  

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”  

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”  

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.  

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.  

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”  

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.  

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.  

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.  

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.  

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.  

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.  

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.  

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.  

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.  

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”  

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”  

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.  

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.  

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”  

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.  

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.  

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.  

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.  

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.  

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”  

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”  

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”  

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”  

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”  

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”  

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”  

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”  

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”  

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”  

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”  

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”  

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.  

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”  

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”  

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”  

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”  

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”  

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”  

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”  

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”  

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.  

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.  

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”  

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”  

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”  

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”  

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[darling2411]

Her Shadow

Jason Todd x reader

1.8K

*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were confused. It's been nearly a week since you last saw your shadow. Was he gone? Did you scare him off when you called out for him? Or did something happen?

Why did you even care? It wasn't like you knew him. But you missed the feeling of safety his closeness gave you. Yes you never saw him,but you always sensed his presence, and you missed him now that you didn't.

You stopped feeling alone as soon as your shadow entered your life because you weren't. No matter where you went, you could always rely on him to be there. 

Jason longed to be with you, but he had to stay away until he recovered from a mission gone wrong.

He had to lay low for a while after you saw him anyway. But the week he had to spend away from you was one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

His entire being begged to be with you. To keep an eye on you and make sure everything was okay. He had even gone so far as to think about asking his brother to come see how you were doing and find out whether everything was okay, but he decided against it. Jason wanted to keep you all to himself. And to be fair he doesn't even really have you. Yes he knows as much about you as he could figure out without really breaking every sense of your privacy. But you don't know him. And he had to change that as soon as possible. Jason wanted to get to know you, but he didn’t know how he could achieve that.

Like a gift sent from heaven the solution to his most pressing problem came in the form of yourself. 

Other than a few scratches on his face Jason was all healed, but he hasn't seen you in 10 days and he missed you.

He was on his way back to his apartment when he unexpectedly saw you. His heart started beating faster and he could swear that if it could his heart would jump out of his chest and intertwine with yours.

However, all of his optimistic thoughts vanished when he realizes in what situation you are in and instead his head is filled with rage.

A man was pressing you against the brick wall of a building and you were screaming at him to let you go. You were making it clear that you didn’t want this, that he was making you incredibly uncomfortable, but the guy wouldn't let you go. 

Jason was fuming and before he himself could realize what he was doing he pulled the man off you and started beating him.

You were able to breathe again as soon as the man was shoved away from you and after taking a few deep breaths you noticed that the man who pushed the creep of you was still beating him. You heard a sickening crunch and you knew it was the sound of bones breaking. 

"Hey!" you exclaimed, "please stop." And as soon as your voice reached Jason's ears he stopped immediately, his sole focus on you.

"Are you alright?" His breathing was irregular as he asked.“Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head no “ Other than being a creep you stepped in before anything bad could happen.”

“Don't do that” Jason said, his gaze still full of rage, “That he even put his hand on you without you giving him permission is to much”

You flushed and shrugged your shoulders, saying, "I know, but it wasn't like he assaulted me." 

“He did!” Why were you so adamant on telling him that nothing happened?

“Perhaps, but it makes no difference. You stopped him and nothing really happened. And I'm not gonna say anything anyway.” you rolled your eyes.

Jason was baffled “What do you mean you won't say anything? You have to report him.” He looked at you expectantly.

"Report him?I will either get fired or no one will believe me if I report him, Mister-huge-bicep.” You say being unable not to notice his shirt pressing against the bulging muscles in his arms. You turned to the creep who unfortunately happened to be your boss or rather professor. You were his assistant and most of the time he behaved himself but lately more often than not he made weird jokes and sexual comments. But you needed the money, the job in the little supermarket on the corner didn't cover all your expenses. And you really like your little apartment. If not for your job as a teaching assistant you would have to move back in with your mother and that was something you really don't want to do. 

Mr. Huge Bicep? Jason was overcome with male pride, but he was unable to concentrate on it at the moment. There were more pressing matters. “Is he your boss?” He took a step towards you, saying, “Yn. I asked if he is your boss”

Hold on, did he just say your name? Did you tell him? You must have but when?

“How do you know my name? I didn't tell you, did i?”

Shit, he fucked up” That doesnt matter right now, Is he your boss or not?”

"Yes, he is. He is my professor and also my boss. I’ m his teaching assistant and I really need that job”

“Alright this is what we’re going to do now. First of all I'm gonna walk you home and make sure nothing else happens to you. Then we are going to talk about what you plan to do with your professor and after that I'm gonna explain to you why I know your name, alright ?”

“That sounds good and I'm gonna make us a little something to eat and don't you even try to say no. It's the least I can do after you literally saved me.” you smiled up at him kindly.

How could he ever say no to you in any way? He was totally smitten with you and he never even really talked to you until today.

“Alright” You already turned away from him and didn't see the slight smile on his face after he accepted your invitation.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you made your way over to your apartment. If you noticed that he led the way there without you telling him where to go you didn't say anything. 

You opened the door when you arrived and let him inside. 

Your apartment is a pure reflection of yourself. It is plaid out in your favourite colours and all your little hyperfixation are displayed all over the place. It was so unapologetically you and Jason immediately felt at peace. Just like he usually did when he was following you around as your shadow and was in your mere presence .

“Nice place” he muttered as you ushered him into your little kitchen. 

“Thanks, I love it” you beamed.

Yeah he could see that. “Is that why you don't want to tell anyone about your boss?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yes,” you answered silently.” If I want to keep this place and I really do, then I also have to keep that job.” You just got your shot at independence and you weren't going to let it slip through your fingers without a fight.

“Okay then.”, Jason sighed, ”Has he ever done anything similar ?” he asked, his fist clenched tight. The simple thought of you being in a situation like this before without him there was making him want to punch the professor all over again. Additionally he was extremely mad at himself because how could he not know that you had a second job and that your professor was a fucking creep? If he had known about this he would have helped you sooner. Jason hoped that your boss would still be where he left him later so he could give him another beating for even thinking about you inappropriately.

“No, not really. I mean he always made little comments but he has never been physical with me before. I think it is my fault. I was really nice to him this morning and said that we could meet up to mark the next exams after the lectures were finished and I think he misunderstood me.” your voice got more unsure the more you tried to explain yourself.

“This was definitely not your fault. He is stupid and heard what he wanted to hear. Nothing that happened had anything to do with what you said or how you behaved. This is not your fault, sweetheart” Jason squeezed your shoulders reassuringly.

You looked at him sheepishly, his fingers now drawing little patterns into your skin calming you down. “ I know that I'm supposed to feel like that, but I can't help but feel guilty. I know that the guilt has to change sides but the victims almost always gets all the blame and it’s so deep ingrained in us that even I as a woman sometimes think that it is my fault and that is so messed up.” You sigh heavily.

“Yes it is that is why you have to report him” Jason says trying to persuade you to do the thing he thinks is right.”Nothing will change if you don’t try.”

“You really think that it will help?” you ask, still unsure if anything will change if you report your professor.

“If I come with you yes” Jason says extremely sure of himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask perplexed.

“Well I uhm” he trailed off , not quite sure what to say. Should he already tell you about his connection to Bruce? “I mean I saw what happened so im sure they have to believe you if  you have a witness.” 

“You're right I will report him first thing in the morning. I hope you know that you have to come with me. You are the witness after all.” Now it is your time to look at him expectantly.

He did know and the possibility of spending more time with you made him all giddy inside.

“Yeah, no problem.” He looked at you intensely, finally being able to really look at you without as much distance between you as when he was keeping an eye on you from far away. You are the most magnificent thing Jason has ever laid his eyes upon. And if he could he would never stop looking at you.

“You said you would tell me how you know my name?”,that got Jason's attention and he stopped staring at your perfectly kissable lips and focused on your eyes instead.

“Yes but how about we eat something before I tell you?” He asked, trying to delay the conversation as long as he could before he has to tell you everything and you wouldn’t want to see him ever again.

He hopes you won't hate him when he confesses to being your shadow.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[bibookdemon]

Chat. Gay chicken(?) with Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan.

Warning for some nsfw aspects further down ;3

-Started out as SQH writing LBH as bi in PIDW, he was catering to the fans so suddenly LBH discovers he's also into men lmfao, so he writes a smut scene between LBH and another man and it is so much worse than any of the other smut. Bro did not do any of his fucking research. He has no fucking clue.

-Some of the fans eat it up but SY is like NUH UH THIS IS SHIT. And of course he writes that it's shit.

-For once, SQH writes back: 'Like YOU would know, you rich fucking asshole!' (He's gathered that SY has enough money he can sit around all day and leave bad reviews on his story.)

-SY is all 'Of course I know, idiot! Literally everyone knows how to write gay smut!!'

-And SQH is too deep in his rage to think about what he's saying so: 'Prove it then.'

-SY is also too deep. 'Come to XX on XX day.'

-They meet at a bustling coffeeshop that's super cute and geared towards couples. SY's first impression of SQH is 'wow he's short' and SQH's first impression of SY is 'yeah he looks fucking gay.' And he's pretty sure he's gonna eat his words.

-They go on a fucking coffee date. SY buys him coffee, they get a cute table in a semi-private corner, they actually get to talking and everything is kinda chill.

-SQH eventually remembers that hey, this guy is the jerk who leaves shitty comments on his story. So he tells him to man tf up and prove he knows about gay smut.

-SY is now scrambling to figure it out. He does not, in fact, know how to write gay smut. He does not, in fact, know how to prove it. So, now that he's panicking, he does the unexpected to divert SQH's attention: He slides a hand over SQH's, leans it, and kisses him right on the lips. 'How's this for gay?'

-SQH is absolutely surprised and flustered and also holy fuck that was like a really good kiss and low-key he wants to be kissed like that again but- 'still doesn't prove anything - unless you're unable to prove it'

-SY is in this too deep and has too much pride to give in. So he decides to go for another shock factor. He gets out his phone and he calls his favorite hotel. And he books a room. And SQH is just thinking to himself 'what the fuck have I gotten myself into' but of course he's not gonna back out! He has too much pride as well, and hey, a hotel room is better than his dingy little place, and maybe he also wants some more of those kisses.

-They go to the hotel in SY's car (SQH took the bus to get to the coffee shop) and then they're at the hotel and then SY is initiating a quick, sloppy kiss in the parking lot and SQH is feeling a little turned on and then- they have to go inside

-He figured SY was rich, but he didn't realize just HOW rich the bastard was. Bro got a fucking suite. It's huge, the bed is nice, the moment they're inside the room, SY's tongue is down his throat.

-After that, they both sorta stumble through the steps, SQH is too busy being turned on and wanting more kissing to recognize that SY is fumbling with everything and is sweating buckets and trembling cause he's so nervous. When it was time to put the condom on SY was so worried he was gonna rip it lmfao

-And they fuck, and it's awkward but also good, and SQH afterwards is just like 'you should prove you know how to write gay smut more often. To me.'

-SY is just like 'yeah, yeah,' he's tired and he wants to sleep and he just grabs SQH and snuggles him cause it feels right.

-Morning rolls around and they both realize what they just did + what they said they'd do in the future. And they're both looking at each other wide-eyed. And finally, SQH is all, 'Look Cucumber-bro, I don't know about you, but I had a fun time, and fuck all the stupid shit about writing gay smut, I want to BE the gay smut.'

-And SY is just like 'Ok,' because he has nothing better to say but he doesn't mind SQH's reasoning and he liked the sex.

-They'd be fucking hilarious. Poor SY doesn't know what he signed up for, SQH ends up having this endless stamina + an endless torrent of new ideas for them to try. 'I have to know how it works for the story!!! The fans are eating up my writing lately!!!!' - And SY has come to find SQH absolutely adorable and he can't say no to that cute face.

-They're just fuck-buddies at first, but they eventually develop a crush on each other, have a whole dramatic situation over that, and then start dating. (SY starts showering SQH in rich gifts lmao - some of them are useful some art, SQH loves all of them cause omg his boyfriend loves him and gift-giving is part of his love language.)

[hcfiles]

Blind items about Henry Cavill. Putting it this way, things start to make sense.

There was an interview I saw once in which he surely felt an itch under his pants while talking to who was interviewing him at the time, he immediately, pulled his leg abruptly to cross and rest it over the other knee as if trying to get rid of the itch.

Usually, gay men or men who are attracted to men, choose young women, for they have more similarities to young men.

When this circus first started, there was a woman who left a comment on his comment sessions on his IG who literally, threatened to spill some tea, reminding him of something that had happened in her country when he once was there.

She said a friend of his ended up admitted in a psychiatric facility as a consequence of what happened and that Henry, at the time, spent a lot of money, to hide it from the public.

The fact is these celebs hide much more than you can imagine and nothing, NOTHING is what it seems. And this PR with Natalie Viscuso could be a cover up.

[electraslight]

Can you explain more about your no demon realm au, I'd love to know more about the whittebain family :D

It's bascially an au where all demon realm characters exist in the human world. luz is a troublemaker at her catholic school so she gets put in a volunteer extra credit program (for remideal students, brown nosers, and miscreants) and her volunteer assignment is to help Edalyn Clawthorne, a disabled woman who lives near her house. Willow, Gus, Amity, and Hunter are in the same program (Willow is an assistant coach at the YMCA, Gus is cleaning up an area of the Gravesfield Cemetary he and a friend wrecked, Amity volunteers at the library, and Hunter volunteers at the nearby county park) Hunter is very close to his father Caleb, a carpenter, construction buisness owner (thats what the logo on his shirt is for) and Hunter's idol, and Hunter's mother is Evelyn Clawthorne, Eda's cousin, who used to teach art at a local middle school but was detained on house arrest after it was discovered she was asking her students to bring her roadkill and animal corpses in excahnge for extra credit. She and Hunter used to be as close as Hunter is with Caleb, but once Caleb's brother Philip moved into a trailer behind the house because of a mysterious 'illness', Philip's offhanded comments on Hunter's mother's morals drove a rod between them. Hunter idolizes his uncle and thinks he's the bravest man he knows for surviving his condition for so long (Philip has been in recovery since Hunter was 10, he lies about how sick he is to stay near his brother and take his money) and Philip..... is himself. Caleb and Evelyn both suspect him of some sort of wrongdoing but they both know that he'd explode if they brought it up, so they just try to keep Hunter away from him. It doesn't always work out.

[hidden-poet]

Poison: part 3

Summary: Coriolanus always hated Sejanus Plinth. He had everything that Coriolanus should of had; money, influence, and you.

Warnings: Coryo being de-lu-lu, unrequited love, Reader insert, dark!Coriolanus snow, unedited, dead dove to not eat

Word count: 9,832

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3

Part 4 coming

Comments and asks welcomed!

 Coriolanus sat on the train to District 12. 

Something compelled him to bribe the clerk for a ticket to district 12. 

He wondered if Lucy-Gray would still be alive?

Would they kill her for his mistake? 

If he wasn’t hopeful that he could get himself out of this mess and back to you, he would have killed himself. 

The shame of it all was too much. He couldn’t even look Grandma’am or Tigres in the eye while he explained the circumstance he now found himself in. He felt as if he had failed them. 

He knocks his head against the cold, hard glass. Watching as his surroundings sped past him. 

The door was heard as it opened, but Coriolanus didn’t stir from his self-pity, sure it was another recruit just passing through. 

When he heard Sejanus’s voice it startled him

“I thought I might find you here”, his old enemy spoke with a grin. 

“Sejanus, what are you doing here?” 

He rises from his seat, watching as Sejanus in a peacekeeper uniform came forward with a duffle bag.

He gazes back at the door with his heart in his throat. If Sejanus had brought you along to district 12, Coriolanus was sure to kill him where he stood. 

But the door never reopened. You were safe back in the Capitol.

“Are you kidding me? After I found out where they were sending you I couldn’t get here quick enough”.

Sejanus throws his bag on the floor and takes a seat across the table. Coriolanus joins him with his questions. 

“What about y/n? Did you break up”, Coriolanus asked too quickly and with too much hopefulness in his voice. 

“No”, Sejanus’ coy smile angered Coriolanus greatly, “No. we are engaged. 

Coriolanus swallows his rage to force out a “Congratulations”. 

“Thank you. Yeah, you know. I figure I get through basic, and become a medic. They allow third year medics to bring over family, give you a house on base instead of sharing a dorm with twenty other men. We can carve out a better life for us out here”.

“You plan to bring her here? To the districts. Are you insane? They are savages here”.

“They are desperate people. People in need of help. Y/n and I have a real chance of making a difference out here, like you told me I could do”. 

Coriolanus’s hands balled into fists. He hadn’t meant to get you tangled up in Sejanus' misled fantasies. He only wanted to get out of the arena. 

“If you think I am going to let you bring her here, you are mistaken”. 

As soon as Coriolanus got his hands on a piece of paper he was going to write to your father, and tell him of the plan. He properly didn’t even know of the engagement. 

Sejanus laughs as if it was a joke. As if Coriolanus wasn’t imagining jumping across the table and pounding his face in. 

“I know you want the best for her, Coryo. So do I. You’re a good friend, but y/n can make her own decisions, and she has chosen to follow me to district 12”. 

The word ‘friend’ made Coriolanus’s ears hot. He was not a friend. Not to Serjanus. Not to you. Still his composure was his strength. He had to wait until the time was right. He couldn’t have you thinking he was jealous. Jealousy was weak. 

If your father had already disowned you due to the news of the engagement, he would have no further cards to play. He would figure out a way to keep you in the Capitol, but it started with staying in the loop of information. 

“Be careful, Sejanus. It’s a different world out here. One where you can’t buy your way out of trouble.”

Coriolanus looks to the window, sure if he spent any more time looking at Sejanus his fists would fly before he could stop himself. 

“Ah come on, man. Don’t give me grief. I’ve come all this way for you. Why are we talking about my girl, when we should be talking about yours? The girl you risked everything for is just at the end of these train tracks”.

His girl, the one he risked everything for, was back in the Capitol, engaged to his enemy. 

Coriolanus was sure he was going to kill Sejanus, but faked agreement. 

—-----------

You would write Sejanus letters every week. Pages, and pages on how much you missed him. How you wore the ring with great pride, and never take it off.

You never mentioned the kiss. Never asked about Coriolanus. He wondered if you had told Sejanus or decided to keep it as a secret. 

He liked the idea of you having a secret with him. Something that only you two shared.He thought back to the kiss often, wondering what he could have changed that would have stopped you reacting the way you did. But what did it matter? The outcome would have been the same.

His fate was sealed when his father made enemies with Dean Highbottom. 

Late at night Coriolanus would break into Sejanus’ locker to read your letters. He would sit under the moonlight, pretending that the letters were written for him. He would pen one back in his mind. 

He thought about sending you a real letter, but what would he say? I love you. Don’t marry Sejanus. 

It seemed too little now. 

He trained hard. Much harder than Sejanus. 

He was desperate to be picked for officer training. From there he could make his way back to the Capitol faster than Sejanus could earn the privilege of bringing you here. 

When he pushed his body to the limits during training, and remained studying while the other men captured what little joy they could. He thought of returning to the capitol while Sejanus was stuck in this living hell. 

It would be hard not to fall in love while your boyfriend was in a different world. 

Coriolanus would do everything with you, naturally as your only friend. You would feel terrible having rejected him just moments before he was shipped off. Maybe even regret it. 

It would happen slowly and naturally. One day you would just wake up and realised you were in love with coriolanus. 

It would break Sejanus' heart certainly. But Coriolanus had suffered in silence for years. It was his turn. 

He would figure out money at a later date. An officer makes a decent wage, but not enough to afford you the lifestyle you deserve. That Grandma’am and Tigress deserved. 

It was a hurdle he would jump through when the time came. First he had to survive district 12. 

He was yet to see any of it. The Compound was locked down tight. You had to earn the privilege of time off. Not that Coriolanus had the desire to see any of it, or even take a break from his study. 

But he had wished that Sejanus would be further away at times. 

He followed Coriolanus around like a shadow. Swapping chores and assigned placements to be near Coriolanus at all times. 

The only benefit of Sejanus’ friendship was Ma’s cooking. She would send packages of sweet treats each week. 

It made Sejanus popular among the cohort. Coriolanus would always get first pick being Sejanus’ closest friend. 

Having been fed three meals a day and Ma’s sweet treats, Coriolanus gained healthy weight. 

He found himself being able to focus better and his energy flourished. 

He would return to a changed man, but you hoped you would still be the same woman. 

His mind focused on you as he pushed his body to the duties of a Peacekeeper.

Sejanus would talk of you which helped. Mostly things he had already read in the letters you send for Sejanujs, but sometimes he would derail and offer a piece of  information Coriolanus never knew. 

It made Sejanus slightly bearable. His presence is less insufferable when he is useful. 

Still being followed everywhere was starting to grate on Coriolanus. 

He walks fast to try and shake Sejanus, but the young boy takes it as a challenge to keep up even with his damaged knee. 

He complains about the superior officers while Coriolanus races across the yard to return his patrolling uniform so he could return to his bunk and study for the officer test. 

The gray uniform was heavy with padding, and his helmet was like a rock in his hand. It added to his irritation as Sejanus squawked in his ear about things he didn’t care about. 

His mind floats to you and what you could be doing. He imagines you shopping for a new dress, and then going for lunch in the Capitals best restaurant, where he would be sitting there patiently waiting for you. 

When he heard your voice in his ear, at first he thought he dreamt it, but he would never dream of you calling Sejanus name over his. 

He whips in the direction of the sound to see Sejanus already sprinting to the fence. 

You stood behind a tall wire fence that separated the Peacekeepers section from the nurses and doctors. You wore the dreadful blue nurses uniform with a white patch across the left side of your breast that stated ‘Junior nurse’. 

With no makeup or jewelry and with your hair tied back into a ponytail, you looked pale and undressed.

He stared at you in disbelief but you never spared him a glance. 

Sejanus throws himself into the fence in front of you, attempting to hold what he could of you. The fence separated your bodies, so intertwining your finger through the gaps was as close as you could get. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”Coriolanus could hear Sejanus ask in a tone of disbelief that spoke of his surprise. 

Coriolanus moves over to the fence line to hear the reason too. Still half shocked that you were really here. 

“What about your family? Your dad?”, Sejanus pesters. Both very good questions. 

Did they even know you were here? Could Coriolanus work with your father to get you back to the Capitol where you belong?

You shake your head at him

“It doesn’t matter” you say, “All I have is you now, okay?”. 

Sejanus laughs giddily at your words, but Coriolanus remains livid. You shouldn’t be here, moreover it wasn’t true, you didn’t only have Sejanus, but you had Coriolanus’ mind, body and soul that you are so quick to dismiss. 

“Are you crazy?”, he seeths. 

You tear your eyes away from Sejanus to glare at him. 

“What a surprise Coriolanus isn’t happy again”, you remark. 

“Do you realise what you have done? How dangerous it is to have followed him here?” Coriolanus pushes. 

“I’ve made my choice’’, you state. Coriolanus felt you were speaking to more than your decision to follow Sejanus. You were making it clear that you belonged to Sejanus. 

Coriolanus could feel the ghost of your lips against his. You hadn’t forgotten and forgiven the kiss.

How could he protect you here if you wanted nothing to do with him? How could he get you to listen to him if you willfully blocked your ears with Sejanus?

“Hey”, Sejanus scoffs, trying to ease the tension, “some things never change”.

Coriolanus felt Sejanus clamp his large hand on his shoulder. If he wasn’t so stuck in his anger, he would have shaken him off. 

Instead he stood rigid staring at you. Hoping that this all was just a dream.

“I for one couldn’t be happier. I have the two most important people in my life. A path in life, a chance to make a real difference, freedom. Our lives have just begun. We’re going to do great”. 

You smile at him in a delusional gaze. 

“We’re going to do great”, you agree. 

A whistle blows and an older woman in a nurses uniform begins to yell at you. 

“I’ll see you soon”, you promise to your fiance. 

“Hoffs given us leave passes for the weekend, can you make it?” Sejanus rushes. 

You nod your head ‘yes’, half turning your body away before you receive a punishment for insubordination.  

“Meet me at the front gates at 4 o’clock on Saturday”, he instructs. 

Coriolanus felt his blood run cold at the thought of willingly bringing you out from the safety of the compound. 

“I will” you promise. The stupid smile not leaving your face. 

Your complete delusional state left you vulnerable to very real danger that the district posed. 

“Take care of yourself” Coriolanus orders as you run back to where you were supposed to be. 

Sejanus slaps Coriolanus' shoulder in glee, and this time Coriolanus has the capacity to shove Sejanus away. 

He turns, regaining his fast pace to return the uniform with Sejanus following, but no longer talking. 

The goal was to get back to the Capitol before Sejanus could bring you here, now you have come on your own accord and completely ruined his plans. Why did you have to be such a difficult woman? 

Had you ruined his officer plans? How could he leave you here with only Sejnaus for protection. 

The panic almost strangled him. He needed to recalculate his plan

 But every outcome he could think of either let you down or grandma’am and tigres. 

He left Sejanus still taking off his jacket in the uniform room to go back to his bunk.  

Sejanus had swapped a week of Ma’s goodies for the lower bunk so Coriolanus only had a few moments before Sejanus would rejoin him. 

His head hit the flimsy pillow and he covered his face with his hands.

He could think of a million things that could go wrong now that you were here. 

A district could find his way into the Camp. Into your bunk, with your luck. You could get sick and have to rely on the district's poor resources. 

Life in the Compound was no picnic. You would have to work harder than you ever had before. At home you ate and woke when you decided. Here you would have to earn your keep. 

The privileges of your life lost because you loved the wrong man. The right man would stop at nothing to ensure your every comfort, not congratulate you for losing everything for him. 

He wondered if he could kill Sejanus during training and get away with the accident angle. But you would never look at him the same if he killed Sejanus, accidently or not. 

Footsteps approached the bed and Sejanus threw something heavy on the bed.

“Coryo, are you alright?”, he asks. 

“You need to tell her to leave Sejanus. For her own good”, he commanded. 

He uncovered his face to look Sejanus in the eye as he spoke but his words missed their mark. 

Sejanus smiles instead and rolls his eyes. 

“You worry too much. You’ve always been like that, even in the academy. Always watching everyone carefully choosing when to weigh in”. 

“Well I am weighing in now, Sejanus. Is this really what you want for her? The slums of the District?”, Coriolanus snarls. 

His push awakened something in Sejanus who now carried a look in his eyes that Coriolanus had never seen before. 

“I know you and Y/n are friends so I’ve put up with a lot, but you are overstepping your boundary now. So long as Y/n and I are together nothing else matters. I don’t care if I am with her here or the hunger games. She’s not your girl, Coriolnanus, you don’t need to worry about her”. 

His comment silenced Coriolanus who was forced to turn to his side away from Sejanus. 

Coriolanus’s hands balled into fists ready to put Sejanus back in his place. But he was right. Technically you weren’t any of his concern. 

If it had been anyone else Coriolanus wouldn’t have battered an eye. But it was you. The object of his obsession since the end of the dark days. 

His life line to keep going through it all. His hope and joy, even if you never knew it. 

Maybe that’s why you felt compelled to come to district 12. To help Coriolanus survive yet another feat. 

To inspire him to work harder, to train longer. 

Suddenly, he felt terrible for greeting you the way he did. 

You were only trying to help him. You came to him in his hour of need, and he had bitten you for it. 

A slither of hope ran through Coriolanus. 

Maybe things would work out after all. 

—------

Coriolanus counted down the hours until the weekend. 

Sejanus too. It was the first time he had ever had anything in common with the district born boy. 

He saw glimpses of you during training in the yard. 

Never for very long and Coriolanus had to concentrate to find you amongst the other recruits. But a single glance for a split second was enough to renew his spirits. 

He even found himself interacting with others. Ending nights in a friendly competition between friends, rather than with the training book in his hand. 

There were many Peacekeepers in the compound, but few that he liked. Most of them knew nothing more than to follow orders and use brute force.

The unit he was placed in housed twenty men in a shed that didn’t leave for much room. Of the twenty, Coriolanus found company in only three. Beanstalk, called so for his great height, Smiley, a round face and eager boy and Bug, who often said nothing. 

They had tried to give Coriolnaus a nic-name, but he pushed back against it. His name was the last thing he held to his capitol standing. He would die before he relinquished it. 

Sejanus on the other hand accepted the name ‘Bulls-eye’, dubbed after an impressive training session, where he hit nearly all of the targets. 

The name had taken on an ironic meaning after he failed to do so since. Coriolanus had warned him against showing such promise. They don’t need a medic with perfect aim. It may derail his plans of leaving the gun behind for gauze. 

Coriolanus also didn’t need Sejanus taking any attention away from him during training. He needed to be the best in all categories so there was no doubt in the Commanders eyes that Coriolanus was the one to be sent for officer training.

Saturday came slowly, but finally arrived. 

Coriolanus took extra time to groom himself. Ensuring that he looked and smelt his best after hours of grueling training. 

The other men, who he had come to accept as friends until he could get out, snickered at him, asking him if he was prettying himself for the girls.

Coriolanus smirked to himself as the men jeered. 

Sejanus came to his defence and the men left Coriolanus alone. 

They stood together prettying themselves for the same girl. 

“Do you think she will be there?” Sejanus asks. 

Coriolanus felt a jolt run through him. Seeing you was the only thing he was looking forward to. Was your presence now a maybe?

“Who?”Coriolanus asks for clarity. He puts down his wet washer and faces Sejanus at the next sink. Surely, he couldn’t mean you. 

‘Who else? Lucy-Gray!” He said without care. 

Coriolanus huffs, feeling his heart go back down into his chest. 

“I don’t know”, Coriolanus says, “I don't even know if she would still be alive”. 

It saddened him to think that his cheating would cause her death. 

“Do you think they killed her?” Coriolanus asked. 

Sejanus shakes his head ‘no’ still looking in the mirror to apply his after shave, and pleasant smelling cream. 

“Why would they risk it? She was a big hit. If they do have the games next year, they will properly invite her to sing at the opening ceremony”. 

His words sooth Coriolanus, who picks up his soapy washer and runs it across his skin. 

When he finally saw you standing just outside the compound gates with the sun going down behind you, it felt as if a heavy weight was being lifted from his chest. 

You wore a nurses uniform, pale blue and faded from previous use. The sleeves came down to your elbow and hugged your skin.The top of the fabric cinched at your waist before falling into a straight line of fabric that ended just before your knees. 

“Hey” you called with a wave. 

Coriolanus fought to keep his hand down, as Sejanus ran up to you. 

Sejanus took you into his arms and gave you a deep kiss, earring a cheer from the men. Coriolanus had to look away from the sight. 

You break away to shush them, much to Coriolanus’s pleasure. 

“Don’t draw any attention” you command, “I’m not supposed to be here. I gave a girl my gold hair clip to cover for me. It’d be a waste if you blew it for me”. 

The men hush, instead shaking Sejanus in encouragement. 

“Come on”, Sejanus commands, turning out from you but keeping a hold of your hand, “lets get there before all the seats get taken” 

“I have to be back by ten. Thats when the head nurse checks the bunks”. 

Sejanus hums in response, but Coriolanus was livid that you had a bedtime at all. 

He wanted to say so to you, but found it difficult to get close enough to speak to you. 

He was pushed to the back as Smiley, and Beanpole crowded you with questions, and idle conversation. 

It left Coriolanus and Bug walking behind the group in silence. He never thought Bug would become his favorite. 

The men disappeared as the large barn came into sight. Coriolanus took his spot next to you as soon as it opened. 

He could hear the music from a mile away as he walked. The old barn had a yellow stream of flight that flooded the place, occasionally cut off by shadows of people walking past. 

He stayed close to you as you entered the barn. 

It was hot and loud inside. Peacekeepers and districts crowded the floor. No one seemed to mind the shared coexistence, but Coriolanus could feel the underlying tension. He would be sure not to let you go too far tonight. 

A small blonde headed girl sings and dances on a makeshift stage. A call for peace while people were fixated on her. 

Senjanus halts on the edge of the dance floor. His eye caught by something at the bar. 

“Stay with Coriolanus. I am going to get a drink”, Sejanus orders.

He is weaving his way through the crowd before you could get your “okay” out. 

Coriolanus stood straighter next to you. His hand reaches out behind you to keep you close but never lands. 

The little girl on stage finished her song and the crowd roars for more. 

“Is it getting hot in here?”, the girl calls to the crowd. 

You cheer back, cupping your hands to scream back and clap.

“Well, we’re planning on heating it up just a tad more!”, she teases, “The one, the only, Lucy-Gray-Baird!”. 

The world stops for a second as he watches Lucy-Gray dance up onto the stage. She was dressed in heavy dark clothing that resembled a costume, and had her face painted in make-up. 

You hit Coriolanus’s chest in excitement.

He looks down at you. He had brought you this happiness. 

You grinned from ear to ear. Your eyes sparkle with joy that he secured by cheating in the games. 

He wondered if he would get a thank you. He wouldn’t push it from you, seeing you happy was enough for him. 

Lucy-Gray warms the crowd with her charm before she starts her song. It was the same one from the reaping but placed to a happy tune. He almost didn’t recognize it. But her words were unforgettable. 

“You can take my pa, but his name’s a mystery”, she sang,

Her eyes roam around the room before finally falling on you and Coriolanus in the crowd. 

Her voice hitches when her eye catches Coriolanus. The words she was singing gets stuck in her throat until you draw her attention by waving. 

Lucy-Gray gives you a flash of her smile and her singing voice returns. 

He couldn’t believe it. She was alive. His filly in the race made it out unscathed. 

You take a step forward into the crowd and Coriolanus goes along with you, hovering his body protectively close. 

A shout is heard from the back of the room causing coriolanus to turn to see a dark featured man making his way through the crowd. 

Coriolanus pushes you closer by the shoulder into him and out of the mans way as he pushes through. 

“Lucy-Gray!”, he calls, “Lucy-Gray, you're sounding mighty thin without me! You all are!”.

“Billy!” the women trailing him scolded. 

He feels you shuffle forward towards the scene, and clamps down on your shoulder to keep you at bay. 

“I know you miss me!”, Billy yells as he attempts to climb the stage. 

He is pulled back by the women, Coriolanus guessed is the Mayor’s daughter. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t play with them again”, she demanded. 

Her demand is met with a harsh shove back into the crowd. It agitates the atmosphere and people begin to become rowdy. 

“Settle down, settle down”, Lucy-Gray says into her microphone. 

The crowd does not. When a Peacekeeper gets punched, it incites the crowd to erupt into chaos. 

Bodies shove into Coriolanus as some join the fight and others fight to leave. 

You tear yourself from his grasp and push your way to help Lucy-Gray as Billy climbs the stage. 

His hand wedges it way through the gaps but fails to pull you back. 

Instead he forces his path behind you. Shoving people away to get to you. 

His uniform made him a target in a roomful of angry and hungry district men. 

It didn’t come as a surprise when a fist came flying at his face. 

His face stung from the hit but he didn’t retaliate, too focused on yanking you away from Billy.  

He had climbed on the stage to cling to Lucy-Gray’s dress and you had grabbed on to his arm to stop him. 

When he shoved you harshly away, you latched on again like a fool. 

Billy swung his arm back to ensure your compliance. It almost lands before Coriolanus yanked the threatening arm to spin the short framed man towards himself. 

“Don’t touch her!” he shouts, pounding his fist into the side of Billy’s face. 

From the corner of his eye he saw you recoil in shock. He should have stopped with three good punches but he found his fist flying again and again into the boys boney face. 

It brought him back to the area. That same fierce protectiveness coursing through his veins. He didn’t want the threat to be neutralized, he wanted it to be eliminated. 

“Coriolanus stop!” you call.

When you wrap yourself around his arm to keep it mobilized, he doesn’t shake you off. The sirens of the Peacekeeper vans could be heard over the commotion of the people. 

He looks up to see Lucy-Grey clutching her mic stand, frozen from what she saw. Even after the Hunger Games violence was foreign to her. It wasn’t in her nature, but it was in Coriolanus’s. 

He heard your name being shouted by Sejanus who tried to push his way through the dispersing crowd to get to you. 

A loud bang knocked down the barn doors and fully equipped peacekeepers marched in, throwing around anyone in their way. 

Coriolanus grabbed your wrist with his sore hand and yanked you towards the back exit people were escaping from. He couldn’t hear you over the noise of the barn but he could feel you tugging back against him. 

Even when he hit the quiet, cool, outside air, he still didn’t release you. Continuing to force you forward into the darkness. 

“Wait. We have to go back”, you demand with a harsh pull of your wrist. 

“He’ll be fine”, Coriolanus assured, “He’ll find his own way out. Come on”.

He yanks you a bit too harshly forward and you stumble from the force. 

“We have to get you back”, he addresses, loosening his tight grip to a firm hold, “They’ll be sure to conduct the bunk checks early with the amount of peacekeepers there”.

You follow him along the dirt, rocky road back to the Compound. A few people run past but it is mostly dark and silent. Coriolanus stews as you walk quietly beside him. 

“What were you thinking?” he spat.

“I was thinking Lucy-Grey needed help”. It seemed his question had snapped you out of your compliant trance as you began to tug your wrist out of his hold again.

“From you? You could have gotten hurt”, he criticized. 

“So I shouldn’t have done anything? Let go!”. 

He doesn’t, swinging your wrist forward out of the way of your free clawing hand. 

“Yes,Y/n. That’s exactly what you should have done”, he scolded. 

“Maybe you should listen to your own advice. Saved yourself a busted lip, and sword to your shoulder”, you mocked, slightly out of breath from Coriolanus’s speed. 

He hadn’t realised that his lip was bleeding until you mentioned it. Now he could taste the metallic warm liquid trickling into his mouth. 

He wipes it away with his spare hand. The cut stings as he puts pressure on it.

Your own cruelty stunned you. A person who prided herself on her kindness and compassion now sneering at her saviour. 

“Wait, Coriolanus”, you say, halting your steps. Coriolanus stops with you, releasing your wrist. 

“I am sorry. That’s not fair”. 

He stares at you in shock. You had always spoken to him quite guarded. Now it felt as if your relationship was growing. You were speaking your mind to him now. Apologising when you are wrong. It was a strong foundation to any relationship. 

“You’re forgiven”, he whispers back.

He reaches out to take a hold of your wrist again but you know it back out of his way. He doesn’t attempt again, moving forward along the road. 

“Come on, we have to get back”, he commands. 

You do follow him, and the air is heavy with something you wanted to say. 

“Coriolanus”, you begin after a moment of silence, “what you did back there. What you did back in the arena”. 

Coriolanus cuts you off, sure the next words weren’t a thank you. 

“Saved your life”, he turned to gaze down at you with eyes that spoke of how cautious you should be, “I did what I had to do to keep you safe”. 

You shrinked under him. You nodded your head in agreement but your eyes looked unsure. 

He followed you when you began walking ahead of him. 

“It must have felt good to see Lucy-Gray tonight”, you say. 

“Yes”, he agrees, “I am glad she is not dead”. 

“Me too. I thought she was for sure when those snakes got dropped in the arena”. 

“So did I” he acknowledges. 

The night was quiet now. Only the moon lit the path back to the Compound. You and Coriolanus took a leisurely stroll away from the chaos of the barn. He found himself grateful for the eventful night now that he walked beside you. 

He lifts his hand to place it on your shoulder closest to him. You stop walking immediately as it lands. 

Coriolanus halts a step forward, turning his body back to you in question. 

“You should know I didn’t tell him. I figured a kiss in excitement wasn’t worth upsetting him for”, you lecture. 

He felt the lump in his throat forming. 

“What is it you are insinuating?”

“You’re Sejanus’s best friend”, you accuse. 

He needed to throw you off the scent. You needed more time. 

“And you're my best friend's girl. Someone I hoped I could form a close relationship with, for Sejanus’s sake”.

“Sometimes it feels like you are taking Sejanus’ place”.

Some day he would. Sejanus would be a distant memory as you curled up in bed beside him, but for right now he was an active threat. 

“You’re right” he acknowledges, “A kiss in excitement means nothing. I didn’t ask you to come here, Y/n. I don’t want you here”. 

The kiss meant everything to him, and now you were trampling it under your foot. 

He continues walking on. He wouldn’t leave you behind in the darkness by yourself but his resolve was slipping and he needed the distance to organise himself.

“I am sorry if I have given you the wrong impression but I followed Lucy-Gray here, not you. Whatever you think, I assure you, you have dreamed it”.

You jog to keep up, but he keeps his quick stride. 

“You’re right, I am sorry. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to Sejanus and to me. And Lucy-Grey, I know you two got close. It’s just the kiss, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was looking for an answer where there wasn’t one, and I am sorry that I offended you. Honestly, Coriolanus”, you tug his arm back to slow his movements, “ I am sorry. I do want to be friends with you”. 

Coriolanus tugs his arm away and continues walking back to the compound. 

“Hurry up”, he calls. 

You don’t speak anymore and Coriolanus swims with his thoughts. 

He wasn’t the only one who was unable to let go of the kiss. Maybe you didn’t tell Sejanus because the shame of wanting him too was too much. 

Your reaction and accusation, however, hurt. On top of that he had confessed untrue feelings towards Lucy-Grey. You had attempted to push him away and he had allowed you to. 

Was it too late to undo the damage? Could he tell you he was lying and that he only ever thought of you. 

The sight of the compound told him it was too late. He had made his bed, he would now have to lie in it.

He led you back to the medic side of the compound where the security was less militant. 

“Go inside” he commands with a shove of your elbow. 

You nod and walk past him. You don’t once turn to look back but he watches you until you fall out of sight. 

—--------

He doesn’t see you for the next three days. Not even in crossing. Sejanus does however. 

The lovers had found a quiet isolated place where they could meet. Coriolanus was yet to figure out where it was. 

He thought about following Sejanus but instead chose to focus on his studies. 

When a first aid course with the nurses was announced, Coriolanus couldn’t believe his luck. 

The nurses needed volunteers to practice on. A whole afternoon of sitting in your presence. The whole cohort jumped at the chance. 

Coriolanus knew that the Capitol had ulterior motives. They wanted Peacekeepers and nurses to get together and raise capitol loving children in the districts. 

It was a good way to control morale and ensure obedience. The officer in charge gave the men a long list of chores that needed to be completed before such a privilege was granted. 

Coriolanus did them happily. Sejanus too was eager to see you and worked alongside Coriolanus. 

He wouldn’t allow Sejanus to come. Coriolanus was not doing the chores to see any other nurse but you. 

Upon the day, Coriolanus excused himself from breakfast so he could go back to the bunks.

Discipline and obedience was a trait that was valued amongst basic training. 

The superior officers demonstrated this with morning bunk checks. 

There was a certain way that bunks had to be made. It was nothing more than a test of complacency, but it came with strong sanctions if not followed. 

Coriolanus untucks Sejanus’s bottom bunk, and retucks it incorrectly. Leaving the edge of the fabric poking out. After that he picks random and unlucky beds and ensures they also won’t pass the inspection. 

Pleased with his work Coriolanus returns to the mess hall in perfect time to be called for the morning bed inspection. 

He fights to keep the smirk off his face while he lines up alongside Sejanus in front of their bunks.

“Snow, pass” the officer says, documenting the outcome on his clipboard, “Plinth, you’re with me”. 

“What?” Sejanus questions. He looks back at his bed, noticing the untucked fabric and mentally scolds himself. 

“Is that a volunteer for tomorrow too?”, the officer threatens. 

“No, sir”, the boy spits in a strained voice. 

The officer moves on to other bunks and the men are left standing there in silence like they are expected too. 

Coriolanus could feel Sejanus’s disappointment radiating off him. The reaction was surprising. He would see you during your secret meetings. Why did it matter so much to him to lose out on this opportunity? 

The officer finishes the morning inspection and wishes all the men going to assist the nurses a good time, and all the men assisting him today, good luck. 

Coriolanus turns to Sejanus, who’s shoulders were sagged and face sour. 

“Tough break”, Coriolanus offered. 

“I swear that bunk was correct. I checked it three times”, Sejanus whines. 

“Obviously not”. Coriolanus straightens as men begin to disperse to their destinations. He didn’t want someone else to pick you after all the effort he went to in order to get Sejanus out of the way. 

“Can you tell y/n that I am sorry, and that I’ll see her soon”, Sejanus asks. 

Coriolanus nods, although he had no intention of following through. 

“Good luck, Sejanus” he remarks as he makes his way past his enemy and out the door. 

—-

As he enters the usually empty hall that was now filled with tables and chairs and medical equipment. 

He spotted you almost instantly standing in front of your small table. He could tell you were looking for Sejanus from the way your eyes darted across the room and your hands clasp together in front of you, almost in a begging fashion. 

The men were stopped at the door, while the head nurse explained that the nurses would be practicing bandaging, and the men would sit quietly and allow them to do so. She made it clear that this was not a dance, or social event. The girls would learn and the men should try and pick up as much as they could as the information could one day save their life. With a final warning that too much fun would get them kicked out, she released the men to find a partner. 

He went straight to you, but you still looked past him for Sejanus. 

“Where’s Sejanus?” you ask as coriolanus takes a seat in front of you. 

“He’s not coming. He didn’t pass the bunk inspection”, he explains. 

You sigh in response and begin to unwrap the bandage from its wrapper to begin. 

Coriolanus leans closer to you, mockingly whispering his words. 

“Surely I am not that bad?”, he teases. 

“No, Coriolanus, no. You’re fine. It’s just”, you begin but stop, dropping your hands to your lap. 

“It’s just what?”, he asks sincerely. It hurt him a tad that you consider him just ‘fine’ and sought any further explanation as to why. 

You look back at him and begin to wrap his fake wound as the teacher walks around the room. 

“He’s been so distant lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if he deliberately didn’t pass the bunk inspection”.

His heart sank at your words. He didn’t want to hurt you. 

“He’d be crazy to do that”, Coriolanus defended but your face didn’t change from it’s sullen expression. 

“A lot of Peacekeepers didn’t pass the inspection, not just Sejanus. They were hard this morning”. 

You offer a kind smile which eases him slightly. 

“You’re right. I keep forgetting this isn’t the Capitol. Sejanus isn’t free to see me when he likes”. 

He watches as you pick up a pair of scissors to cut off the extra material. 

He wondered if not being able to see you when he liked drove Sejanus as mad as it did Coriolanus. 

If it did, he showed no outward signs of it. But then again neither did Coriolanus. 

“How are you adjusting here?”, Coriolanus asked. 

You were mainly focused on getting the bandage wrapped correctly so you spoke slow and in fragmented sentences. 

“Yeah, it’s. Um. It’s different”, the pin you drive into the bandage to keep it in place nipped Coriolanus, but he made no complaint. 

“It’s nice. You know, independence. I’ve learnt how to wash my own clothes, and clean, and bandage perfectly good wrists”. 

You pin another but this time it goes perfectly into the bandage. 

“You shouldn’t have to”

“Everybody should have to. The Capitol keeps us dependant on the districts so we fear their uprising”. 

“Y/n”, he growls looking around the room to make sure no one else heard you. That talk could get you killed.

You realise it too. Your eyes shift around but no one appears to have noticed. 

You clear your throat before talking as if to clear anymore silly words coming out of your mouth. 

“How are you adjusting? You must miss your family back home”, you comment. 

“I do”, Coriolanus admits, “I worry about them all the time”.

“You’ll get back” you promise to him, “Sejanus tells me you are working your way quickly up the ranks. If there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow can do, it’s rise to the top”. 

He smiles at you. Maybe being sent to district 12 was part of a greater plan to bring you closer to him. 

District 12 offered a forced proximity. You just needed to get to know Coriolanus

“You know they never told us what you did”, you begin to pry. It makes Coriolanus’ heart jump to his throat. 

“I cheated”, he admits after a moment of silence, “To save Lucy-Gray from the snakes”. 

He awaits your reaction.

You nod in understanding, placing the last pin into the bandage. 

“I am glad you did. It would have been a shame to lose her too”.

“Sejanus tells me that you plan to stay here. Is that truly what you want?”

Your face read shocked that he would ask such a personal question but you answered him anyway. 

“I want to be with him. I don’t care where that has to be”

The teacher reached the couple which gave Coriolanus a nice break to gather his thoughts. 

After constructive feedback was given, the teacher leaves and you begin to unwrap his dressing. 

“I am sorry, I don’t mean to overstep”, he says. He could tell you were angry at him from the roughness of your hands and silence of your tongue. “It’s just we’re friends and I only want your happiness. If that’s with him here, fine, but I want to make sure it’s your decision, not his”. 

“You are the only one who seems to want to make decisions for me, Coriolanus”, you bite. 

“I only want to help you”, he defends. 

“I don’t need your help,Coriolanus. I don’t need your friendship, and I don’t need your grubby little hands over me all the time”

Coriolanus hadn’t realised that he had reached out to take ahold of your wrist until you yanked it from under him. 

You get up from the table completely which draws the rooms attention. 

“Y/n sit down” he demands. 

You do sit down, drawing the attention of the head nurse who comes over to inspect the scene.

“Is there something the matter?” she asks in a cold hard tone. 

“No Ma’am”, you answer, “Sorry, just a cramp”. 

The older woman runs her eyes over Coriolanus' wrapped wrist and begins to critique your work.

With instructions to do it again, the woman leaves the table, and the tense atmosphere returns. 

You pick up the gauze again and undo it from Coriolanus’ wrist. 

Coriolanus remains silent and allows you to break the stalemate with a deep sigh. 

“Sorry, I just haven’t been sleeping very well. I don’t mean to take it out on you”. 

“It’s okay”, he assures, “I understand”. 

Your words still were unnecessary, but he could forgive you with the excuse. 

“Is there something I could do to help you?” he asks. 

Maybe he could find a way to get a firmer pillow for you. He knows the flimsy pillow he received drove him mad. 

You shake your head ‘no’ with a sad expression that he wanted to wipe off your face. 

“I keep having nightmares”, you explain and Coriolanus was grateful for it, “I am in the Hunger Games, being forced to fight for my life”.

Coriolanus grows cold at the memory of Sejanus’s rescue. He never should have allowed you in the van. Now you were carrying trauma that he could have protected you from if he had just been less of a boy and more of a man.

“Like that night in the arena?” he confirms. He wanted to assure you that you were in no danger. That he would and did protect you. 

But you spoke before he could. 

“Like as a tribute”.

The bandage was off and you began re-dressing his wrist as instructed. 

“I can’t imagine what Lucy-Gray is going through right now”, you state.

Coriolanus turns his wrist up so he could take a hold of yours as he spoke. 

“You’re safe”. He promises. 

You remove yourself from his grasp.

“Until the Capitol decides I am not”, you declare. 

It’s quiet again as you redo his bandage.He decides he better turn the conversation onto something more joyful. 

“Lucy-Gray has invited me to go to a hidden lake tomorrow with her and the Covey. Perhaps you would like to join?”, he asks. 

He, himself, was not intending on joining but maybe seeing that Lucy-Gray was okay would stop your nightmares. 

“You’ve seen her?” you question, looking up from pinning the bandage in place. 

He nods back in confirmation, “Yesterday” he remarks. 

He doesn't mention Sejanus used that time to speak to Billy Tope and the Brother of the girl in the jail cell. The less you knew the better. 

“Was she okay after the barn?”. 

“Fine. So are you in?” he pushes. 

Tomorrow was your day off, he knew it. If he rushed through his chores in the morning, he could spend nearly the whole day with you. 

You nod back causing Coriolanus to smile. “Of course, what if someone needs my expertise wrapping skills”, you joke. 

—----------

It was not a surprise when you showed up with Sejanus. Even so, Coriolanus felt disappointed. He had gotten up at 4:30 to start his chores in order to finish in time to take you.

You clung to his arm as you followed the Covey into the forest. Coriolanus held Lucy-Gray’s hand. 

More so, she held his hand and he just didn’t let go. They didn’t talk. Coriolanus was too preoccupied to decipher your and Sejanus’s conversation and Lucy-Gray was happy humming a song. 

Half way the blonde child complained she couldn’t walk any further, and hero Sejanus offered to give her a piggyback ride.

You fall back, giving Sejanus room to bounce and run with the child. 

“Here, do you want a drink?” Coriolanus offers, letting go of Lucy-Gray's hand and reaching into his small bag to retrieve his water bottle. 

You take it with a thanks and he watches as you place your lips around it to take a drink. 

To his dismay, Lucy-Gray takes it next and swaps out your saliva for her own. 

“That song you were singing, is it new?” you ask. 

“No, been sang long before me” Lucy- Grey responded. 

Coriolaus had not been listening, leaving him deeply regretting his choice now that he had nothing to weigh in. 

Luckily, lucy-gray began singing it again with clear and slow words. 

‘Oft I heard of Lucy-Gray, and when i crossed the wild i chanced to see at break of day the solitary child”. 

The song did not thrill Coriolanus but you were enthralled with the performance. She sang of a girl with the same name, a child who got lost in the wild, who turned into some sort of ghost. 

“Does she survive? Lucy-gray in the song?” he fakes interest. 

Lucy-Gray grins back, “No one knows. It’s a mystery, sweetheart. Just like me”. 

The view of the water breaks all further conversation. The lake was murky and still. A long wooden jetty reached from the shore into its depth. 

The lush grass stopped upon the muddy shore, and weaved itself alongside the small cabin built upon it. 

The Covey are quick to jump in. Disregarding their clothes to show the home made swim wear underneath. 

You pose no hesitation in joining them, stripping down to your underwear. 

If you were Coriolanus’s girl he wouldn’t allow it. Not with other prying eyes. 

But as he was the prying eye, he stood in silence and watched. 

Sejanus jumped in after you, pulling you close as you playfully squirm out of his grip. 

Lucy-Gray blocks his eyesight as she shimmers off her dress and invites him to join with her smile alone. 

He takes the invitation, ridding himself of his peacekeeper uniform and running off the jetty. 

You pay him no mind as he joins you in the water. Your focus is on Sejanus. 

Lucy-Gray pays mind, swimming over to Coriolanus and holding herself up on his shoulders. He hoped it made you jealous when you glanced at him to see it. But your head turned back to Sejanus too quickly. 

You join the covey in water games while he and Lucy-gray float off on the side with each other.

Lucy-Gray seemed to what to say something but she never did. 

One by one the water was evacuated. As soon as he saw you swimming to the shore, he followed. 

You put on your nurse dress still soaked and it clings to your body, leaving dark patches of material where it dampened. 

Lucy-Gray offers Coriolanus a towel to dry himself which he accepts. He wondered if it was just spare or if she had packed one especially for him. 

As he dresses, you and Sejanus find a shady spot under a tree and you lay against him, talking. 

He thinks about going over, but it is too awkward even for him. Instead Lucy-Gray calls him over to sit on a blanket with her. 

Like a dog, he obeys and takes a seat next to Lucy-Gray who had thrown back on her purple dress. 

“I am real sorry about y/n and Sejanus”, she remarks. 

Coriolanus remains stone-faced and looks out to the lake. 

“What’s there to be sorry for?”. The war was far from over.

“You said it was complicated, don’t seem too complicated now”

Her comment irritated Coriolanus. It was more complicated than it had ever been.

“Y//n doesn’t know what she wants”, he declares. 

“I heard about the engagement”, she said awkwardly. She curls herself into a ball, hugging her knees tight to her chest.

Coriolanus shifts his gaze upon her in an intense stare. 

“I don’t see a ring”, he states softly. 

It was true. You didn’t wear the large diamond that you boasted about in your letters to Sejanus. He supposed they made you give it up when you volunteered for the districts. 

“She followed him here”, Lucy-Gray reasons, “Sejanus says you followed me here”. 

Coriolanus reflects on her statement. He supposed it was true. There was no other reason why he bribed the clerk into sending him to district 12. 

“I guess I did,” he admits, looking back to the ocean, “I had to see if you were alive”. 

“Well I am”, she declares. The new topic instills new confidence and she unrolls herself into a more relaxed position,”didn’t think I’d make it”. 

Out the corner of his eye, he could see Lucy-Gray anxiously playing with her hands. 

“Didn’t think I had what it took to survive”, her voice began to shake, earning Coriolanus attention back. “That little girl, Dill. I thought it would be one of the others. maybe Coral…”

“Hey” Coriolanus consoles, “You are not a killer, Lucy-gray”.

Her watering eyes that focused on the water, snapped to his in stern look. 

“Yes, I am” she proclaims, “both of us are now” she adds softly. 

Her assertion stunned him. How did she know about Bobbin in the arena?

It clicks and Coriolanus inhales a large breath. 

“Dean Highbotton told you what I did to that boy in the arena?” he quizzed. 

She nodded back, wiping away her tears. 

“I didn’t have a choice”, he says softly. It was you or him and he had made his choice long ago. 

“She wouldn’t understand. We’re the same, Coriolanus. We do what we have to so we can survive”.

Coriolanus is saved from having to answer when the smallest member of the group begins to shout excitedly, pulling out a flapping fish from the water. 

He gets hold of it and turns as if he was going to show someone before all his sounds stop and he falls back into silence. 

“Good work, Cc!” Lucy-Gray calls. 

The small boy doesn’t respond as he hits the fish against a rock to stop it moving. 

“See if you can catch some more. We’ll have lunch”. 

A thumbs up is given to Lucy-Gray’s words before the boy turns back to fishing with the others. 

“He misses Billy toupe”, Lucy-Gray addresses. 

The disappointed look on her face spoke of her true feelings too. 

“Do you?” Coriolanus pushes. 

“No”, she says bitterly, “Not since the reaping. I can’t trust him anymore”.

“Trust is everything” Coriolanus agrees. 

“It is to me” she declares, “More important even then love. Without trust, you might as well be dead to me. But you can trust me. I promise you that.If you can trust anyone in this world”, her eyes flick quickly to you before they go back to coriolanus, “You can trust me”.

Coriolanus wasn’t sure what to say. He did trust Lucy-gray, and he hoped that she trusted him. She did at least during the Hunger games. 

“You can trust me too”, he answers softly. 

Coriolanus turns hearing footsteps to see Sejanus and you walking hand in hand over to the blanket. 

“Hey, you guys mind if we join you?” Sejanus calls. 

“No” Lucy-gray yells back but her voice hinted that she did.

Nevertheless, you two sit down. Sejanus in front of Lucy-gray and you next to Coriolanus.

“Don’t have anything like this in the Capitol”, Sejanus comments. 

“The Capitol also doesn't have bed bugs and rats the size of small children” Coriolanus bites. 

“Come on” Sejanus laughs, “it’s not that bad”. 

“You know what I miss?” you speak up, “Hot baths”. 

Coriolanus hated the thought of you missing anything. Let alone because of a district born fool who doesn’t deserve you. 

“I miss my ma,” Sejanus croaks. 

It earns sympathy from you in the shape of reaching out to hold his hand. Coriolanus wanted to mention his dead mother who he will never see again, but it was a pitiful move. 

Lucy-gray is also unfazed by his declaration, having experienced true pain and loss. 

“You must miss your parents” Coriolanus asks you. 

Maybe he could find a way to guilt you back to the Capitol and enjoying hot baths. 

But you shrug your shoulders as if you didnt care.

“They made me choose. Sejanus or them.  How can you miss people who disown you”. 

The situation was worse than he had anticipated. You were disowned with no one to reach out to for help. Still you were a loved daughter, surely they would welcome you back. It was Sejanus they hated, not you. With Coriolanus by your side, they were sure to accept you back into the fold. 

“Would you really go back through? I mean if you could” lucy-Gray asked. 

Coriolanus felt as if she was solely asking him so he answered first. 

“I have to. It’s where I belong. Where we all belong”, he states firmly. 

“The Capitol’s not for me”, Lucy-Gray asserts as if Coriolanus was including her. 

He hated the way she turned her nose up at the idea. As if she was better. 

“At least it’s civilized. Has order” he provokes.

“Oh the Hunger Games are order?”Lucy-Gray returned.

“Making children fight to the death is civilized?” you take Lucy-gray’s side and he quickly backtracks haven forgotten you were there.  

“No. No, of course not”, he defends himself to you. 

“What if this was your life, Coriolanus? Out here. Waking whenever, catching your own food. Would you still feel the need for the Capitol even then?”, Lucy-Gray continues to aggravate the conversation. 

‘‘Sounds like the life to me” Sejanus submits. 

“And you?” Coriolanus corners you now. 

“I would go back to the Capitol” you admit, “I would go wherever Sejanus is”. 

Another fish is caught. The sound of the Covey clapping breaks the tense conversation. 

“They are going to need wood for the fire” Sejanus notes, “I’ll put you to the test, come with me to the forest to collect firewood?”.

You grin at him, copying him as you stand. 

“Lead the way”, you tease. 

Coriolanus was glad you were going. Lucy-gray had ruined the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Be careful of snakes!”Coriolanus calls after you. 

He thinks maybe he should follow but he was still uptight from the previous conversation. 

He leaves Lucy-Gray on her blanket, going back over to where his stuff laid and shoving on his shoes. 

The group sat in a circle around the fire. Lucy-Gray kept her distance on the other side with most of the Covey members. While Coriolanus sat by you while you talked with Sejanus. 

He had never had fish before and was surprised at how much he liked it. The only thing left on his fish was the bones. Everyone else still had a small amount of meat left. It was embarrassing and Coriolans tried to hide his fish with the leaf it was plated on. 

Sejanus barely touched his. His eating was interrupted by constantly checking his watch. 

“Hey, Tam” Sejanus shouted once it had hit the right time, “Would you mind showing me the way back?’

‘We’re leaving?” you ask, almost disappointed. 

“You head back with Coriolanus. I am not going back to the Compound”, he answers, swinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Where are you going then?” you question. 

“I told you I had something in town this afternoon”.

“You didn’t tell me what”. 

Sejanus stands as Tam finishes packing his stuff to take Sejanus back. 

“I didn’t think I had to. My father doesn’t run my life and neither do you”, Sejanus declares. 

You stand up to his height, causing Coriolanus to strain to hear you. 

‘I don’t want to run it. I want to be in it” you demand. 

Sejanus turns soft, cupping the side of your face and speaking softly to you.

“If I thought I could tell you, I would. You just need to trust me”, he responds. 

“I do trust you. Whatever it is, I don’t care. Just let me face it with you”, you beg. 

Coriolanus implores Sejanus to say no. Coriolanus didn’t want you anywhere near Sejanus’s mess. A sentiment that was seemed to be shared by Sejanus when he pulls you in for a kiss to avoid answering. 

“I can’t be late”, he says before turning to slap Tam’s shoulder in thanks and following the boy back to the district. 

“What was that about?” Coriolanus digs as you sit back down. 

“You should know, he’s your best friend”.

You pick up a stick and dig it into the ground to ease your frustrations. 

“You see him more than I do. Suppose there's no room for serious talk in secret lovers rendezvous” he says bitterly. 

His words surprised you and you snapped your head towards him. 

“Rendezvous? What do you mean? This is the first time I have seen him in weeks” you state. 

It fills Coriolanus with pure joy. When he was picturing you locking lips and sharing promises with Sejanus, you were really far from him. 

“What could he be doing?” he pestered. 

Could this be his way in? A thread of distrust had started, all he needed to do was pull the string. 

You turn back to the fire and hold yourself like Lucy-gray did, tight and in a ball. 

He reaches out to place a hand on your knee in comfort. 

“I am always here for you”, he promises, “If ever you want to talk”.

“Thanks” you return flat. 

You are quiet on the walk back but fall in line with Coriolanus beside you. As soon as he is in familiar territory, he diverts you away from the group without a goodbye to the rest. 

He ensures you get back to your side of the compound safe, and you go towards the gate robotically. 

You stop and turn however, just as your body crosses the threshold. 

“Whatever he is doing, Coriolanus, protect him” you command. 

Coriolanus would sooner throw him to the dogs. 

But you didn’t need a response, trusting him to do it anyway and returning to the compound. 

When Coriolanus returns to his side he is greeted by senior peacekeepers closing in on him. 

“Private Snow? Come with us” one of them said with a harsh shove forward. 

With no choice he follows as they escort him to the commander's office. 

Coriolanus had done all his chores, there was nothing he could get in trouble for. Yet, his nerves still rose the closer they got. 

Was it bad news? Did Grandma’am die of shame? 

The doors shut behind him solidifying his fear that it was a private conversation. 

His Commander sits behind a desk, finishing the sentence on his paperwork before looking up. 

Coriolanus goes to stand before him, giving the Commander a salut in recognition. 

“Snow”, the older man address, “I have received the results from your aptitude tests”. 

Was that all? Coriolanus groaned. Hardly something he had to be called upon for. 

“Looked over your training records too. Your performance is exemplary”, he praises. 

“Well half the other recruits can’t read, sir”, Coriolanus states.

The Commander scoffs, placing down the results and folding his hands on his desk. 

“You’re General Crassus Snow’s boy. What did you do to end up here?” the commander questions. 

Coriolanus was hoping no one would connect Coriolanus to the great house of snow. But now the cat was out of the bag, he had to own it. 

“I made an enemy, sir. In the Capitol”, he answers.

The response impressed the Commander who smirked back. 

“I’ve made a career out of ruining my enemies’ plans. I’m going to reassign you to officer training in District 2. You’ll earn a real wage, maybe even have another shot at the capitol one day”. 

Coriolanus should be overjoyed but now that you were here it wasn’t enough time. The official assignment wasn’t for another few months. He was counting on the period between then to win you over. 

The commander reaches for his official stamp and places it on the paper. This conversation had been a test for Coriolanus. One he hadn’t meant to ace. 

“The train leaves in ten days. Keep a clean record, you’ll never see anyone from district 12 again”. 

The certificate is held out but Coriolanus’s hands froze to take it. 

“Is there something wrong? This is an honor, private, not an option”, he criticized. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you”, Coriolanus agreed, “it’s just, there’s a nurse I have grown quite close to”. 

The Commander grins back. Coriolanus wondered what he said that was so correct. 

‘A nurse, ey”, he brings back his outstretched hand to write on the paper with his pen, “my wife was a nurse too”. 

“You’ll have to make her your wife to stay together in district 2 but the Panem welcomes such news”. He holds out the paper again. 

This time Coriolanus takes it, noticing the plus one on the ticket. 

“Thank you, sir” he genuinely says. 

The world had fallen into place. All he had to do was find a way to get rid of Sejanus then you would be forced to marry him. 

You wouldn’t stay here by yourself. Your family has disowned you. Coriolanus would offer you a lifeline as his wife that you couldn’t refuse. 

Coriolanus had ten days to figure out how to kill Sejanus and get away with it. He slept soundly that night with the thought of it.

—------------------------------

Taglist?

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

It Has Officially Begun

Happy Thursday my lovelies,

Buried Secrets is starting out with a bang. Are you all ready for this craziness?

Now, if only I can get inside of Frankie's head for a bit. He's being difficult today. It's coming along nicely though. The outline is pretty much done, aside from small details I may want to note later. It's going to be a doozy! This fic will definitely be different from all the others I have done, and I am excited about that. I can't wait to share it will you all!

If you haven't been following the "Write with Me" polls, you can check those out HERE. I am doing these to let you all have a little input on the plot. It's mostly for the fun stuff so we can throw a little humor in as I like to do. I do have two more scheduled. There could be others down the road, but this is a good start for a little Triple Frontier boy jungle chaos. I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and bouncing ideas back and forth. So, don't be shy and tell me your thoughts on the polls.

If you've been following me for a while, then you know I love creating playlists for fics. As I get started on this new adventure, I would love to have some song recs. If you've got something good, send it my way!

More to come,

💜Mysty

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

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[k0nanharv3y]

Ahhhh, yes, I am not accepting criticism, if you do not like the path I take, you are free to leave and not come back to my blog, I do this for fun. I work in a cafeteria, I like to imagine that the characters I like work in a cafeteria, stfu

Robin Hood AU

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Batman was sensible, he was a detective, and what that implied, he was a gossip and a busybody

He knew someone had brought him back, he knew that someone was in the League of Assassins and he knew that someone was not Ra's

The news had spread like a rumor and was confirmed one day when Talia appeared on a rooftop beside him, announcing his father's death. Bruce had said nothing more than a grunt of recognition and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder as a simple "I'm sorry for your lost"

Only she didn't say "My father is dead" or "I have claimed my father's position." She said "Someone has finished off the demon's head"

Bruce didn't give it much importance at the time and now he regrets it

Because that someone was probably the one who brought him back

I spend hours and days sitting in front of the giant computer, reviewing the evidence of its existence, noticing a pattern similar to someone he could never catch

Robin Hood

The way of writing, the photos, the system and the program he used was the same one that Robin Hood used when he sent samples of some attack or plan, and Bruce opened the rogue's folder again

And spent more hours gathering everything they knew about him

He didn't accomplish much, really. Just a few notes of the cases he solved, the ones he helped out with, the times he attacked multimillion-dollar companies to give it away and re-route the money through various legal channels to those in need in Gotham

And also the first recorded cases of Robin Hood, those who directly attacked Bruce and Batman, those who... those who offered an apology with a letter

The letter where he declared to know Batman's identity and offered him a "I'm sorry for your lost", an apology and an explanation

And Batman just growled even more, gritting his teeth, going over for the 5th time the possible people behind Robin Hood

///

Stephanie Brown didn't consider herself a passionate coffee lover, she was more into Alfred's infusions and hot teas with sugar. She had a time when she was Robin when her dependence on caffeine was worrying and she received an intervention from her sister and brother to stop her. And then she started drinking tea

So her presence at this place was just because of the fame it was getting. The photos on Instagram showed a nice and warm place, with poetry performances, singing and comedians passing on stage every so often, with Jazz playing in the background, fairy lights on the ceiling tangled with artificial plants

And of course, that was lovely, but in all the photos there was always something, someone, standing out. And that was the barista behind the bar

First they declared him as the cute boy who didn't know how to make a decent Frappuccino but always thanked you with a charming smile

Later as Gotham's lost prince, Timothy Drake, who had started his own business after Drake Industries went bankrupt following the death of both founders

Then they started filling the reviews with the great tasting drinks, the delicious desserts, and the cute barista who remembered your name even if you had only been there once

[Tim took it as a challenge and had his ego hurt when people commented on his poor cooking skills, so after months of trial and error and many YouTube and Reddit tutorials, he did it]

And Stephanie Brown understood why everyone was talking about the barista. The guy was skinny, a little shorter than her, with black hair tied in a messy ponytail, pale like any Gotnamemite who hasn't seen the sun in... ever. And... and he smiled when he heard the bell above the door ring

"Hi, welcome to The Nest, what can I..." His face fell a little but he suddenly recovered "What are you gonna drink?"

Steph walked over to the bar, admiring the place after staring at the guy for too long, and looked up at the chalkboards above, noticing a fun fact that the photos didn't mention

"Hi, can I get a Purple Spoiler Tea?" She smiled and looked back at the boy, admiring his face up close "And a..." she looked back at the desserts, giggling at the names they had "A Stealed Cat-Cake?"

"Sure!, it will be 9.75" the boy's face turned slightly pink, not daring to look at the girl

Steph handed him the cash and deposited a 50 dollar bill into the box secured with tape and a padlock

"Will it be for takeaway or to consume here?" He asked pleasantly, beginning to slide along the bar, preparing the drink

"To consume here" she answered

"Okay, go and take a seat, I'll call your name when I'm done"

"But I haven't told you my name" Steph smiled confused

"It's not every day that a Wayne comes to my coffee shop, you know?" He joked and his voice sounded somewhat restless but he kept his tone simple and cheerful

Steph's face warmed with a slight blush and she nodded, even knowing that the barista wouldn't see her and walked to a table near the window

The atmosphere was warm, with pleasant aromas and chatter filling the sound over the relaxing jazz music, the lights were not too bright nor too dim and at one point, she heard the boy's voice calling her from the bar

Steph walked over and took the tray, admiring the color of the tea, a soft purple, garnished with red berries at the bottom and smiled at the sight of the dessert

Two cupcakes, one with the face of a laughing cat and the other with a bag that was supposed to be full of diamonds

Steph smiled and thanked the barista before returning to her table, where she took a photo of her tray, posting it on her social media with the caption praising the place and the barista

She would definitely bring her brothers here

And then she saw both napkins under both products and carefully removed them

'Spoiler has had three identities so far, she started out as Spoiler, became the third Robin, shared the Batgirl mantle with Orphan, and returned to being Spoiler recently'

'Catwoman started out being hated by the city for years, but has recently begun to be more accepted after being seen helping the Bats'

It was data... that you'd find on Reddit or the internet if you were a hobbyist who did a lot of research. But what surprised Steph was that it was handwritten and she wondered if she had different data for each dish and if it was different every time she sorted them

She smiled and looked around for the barista

A few seconds passed before Tim looked back at her, and they both smiled at each other

///

List of products that Tim sells in the cafeteria because I thought it was hilarious to name foods

[steviewashere]

Little Town Bar Bathroom

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor vomiting in the beginning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Steve is tipsy for a good majority of this fic Tags: No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural Elements, Modern Setting AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Bartender Eddie Munson, Tipsy Steve Harrington, It Starts in a Bar Bathroom, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Down on His Luck Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Countdown to New Years, First Kiss, Implied Getting Together, Happy Ending Also here on AO3, because this one is over 5k words 😬

🎆—————🎆 Working at a bar had its perks. There was a consistent stream of regulars that he constantly talked to. He could change up the specials menu whenever he wanted—adding his own flare to the mix, if he so pleased. Sometimes, he had reign over the music. And, more often than not, he was allowed a free drink by the end of his shift.

The downsides, however, were long and weary. Customers who didn’t know what they were ordering, who swore him to Satan’s asshole if he got something wrong, and tried to barge their way in with fake IDs (as if he wasn’t going to check them). Oftentimes, the bar was packed and too hot and made him sweat like nobody’s business—hell, his shower had a run for its money the other night from how pervasive his musk had been. The last major issue he had took place in the bathrooms.

Given that this is a bar he works at, the stalls often fill with every drunk imaginable. The quiet ones that need a moment to breathe, the guys who can’t keep their hands to themselves (who Eddie has to often throw out), a few who are completely sober and just there to piss, and then the oddball loner. But since they’re drunk—well, the bathroom is often the majority of their custodial staff’s paycheck. Eddie doesn’t handle all that vomit bullshit well, despite tending the very thing causing customers to do that.

It’s tonight, though—New Years Eve, forty minutes to midnight, forty minutes to 2023—that the very thing he hates leads him to the only thing he unconditionally loves. He’s cleaning up the spilled beer on his countertop when he gets the innate, incredible urge to pee. The bar is crowded, so he wrestles in another tender, and speeds away to the men’s restroom. Everything’s going according to plan, as much of a plan as there is when it comes to using a public bathroom, up until he hears it. Somebody in the stall adjacent to him, retching up their entire soul in the toilet bowl.

He winces, just finished drying his hands off, anxiety teeming like water about to boil over, and moves on autopilot to knock on the door. “Y’alright in there, man?” Looking at the bottom of the door, he spots only one pair of sneakers—some Nike Cortez that are roughed up and peeling, falling apart from how much they’ve been used—assuming is easy; the guy doesn’t have any buddies in the bathroom with him. “Noticing there’s nobody else but us in here right now,” Eddie comments. “Can I fetch somebody for you? Help you get home?”

The guy jerks with another sound, moaning miserably once he’s done. He flushes the toilet, but makes no other move. “Alone,” he musters, “she just left me here.”

Eddie bites his tongue. Failed New Years date. Oh, boy. He sighs quietly. “Do you, uh, have someone you can call? Or…uh, I could see if my manager’s free, she could order you a Lyft? They should be free tonight, considering everybody’s drinking.”

“I…I’ll be fine,” the stranger croaks, “been in here a while. I’m sobering. Barely had anything to drink, honest.”

“You think you’re done with the worst of it? Make your way outta the stall?”

“Why? So you can berate me for making a mess of your bathrooms?”

Jeez, this guy is defensive. “No, man. So that I could get you some water, a ride home, maybe some food?”

He groans in the stall, still hunched over the toilet. “Don’t wanna go back out there. Got a fucking headache, all the booze and shit will make it worse.”

Eddie rubs a tired hand over his forehead. “My shift’s over in literally five minutes. Would you…would you feel comfortable enough to go to the diner next door with me? I’ve got some Advil in my employee locker. And I could get you a cheeseburger.”

The guy goes completely quiet and still.

He goes to try and shimmy around with the door, maybe get it off its hinges or something, make sure he’s not choking or—

But then he sniffles softly. “That sounds really nice,” he says, “you’re really nice. What’s…what’s your name?”

“Eddie, and yours?”

“Steve,” he breathes. “Sorry I’m such a sack of crap. Wasting your time.”

“Mm, you’re making it easier for me to clock out, actually. Wasting my time would be somebody trying to return a drink that’s been remade correctly five times. That’s when somebody should be sorry.” He peers down at his watch, right on the money to clock out. “I’m gonna get myself out of the schedule and I’ll come back to get you, okay? We’ll just hang out at the diner. And…I’ve got Lyft on my phone, I’ll call you one when you’re feeling a bit better.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll be waiting.”

He makes a quick turn out of the bathroom, rushing back towards the break room before he can get caught and berated by the other bartender he left to attend to customers. It’s as easy as 1-2-3, punching out, putting away his apron, and grabbing for his things inside his locker. Thankfully, there’s still a bottle of Advil. Granted, there’s only enough for one dose and he typically needs to take one after his shift for his sore feet, but he’ll make do this one time. This one exception—Steve.

Once back in the restroom, the stall that Steve occupied is now empty. Though, standing at the sink and lazily washing his hands is probably the most gorgeous stranger Eddie’s ever seen. Blue jeans and a deep red sweater, hidden under a tattered, brown leather jacket. Lean and tall, broad shoulders, big hands; moles dotting every square inch of bare skin, pink lips, droopy hazel eyes, and a nose that could rival every statue masterpiece. Then, he makes direct eye contact with Eddie.

Caught out. Stilled. But then he chuckles awkwardly, trying to ease some sort of tension—a tension Eddie can’t see. “Managed to get away from the toilet,” he says, “room’s spinnin’ a little.”

Quickly, Eddie’s coming up beside him, placing his left hand on Steve’s back. “How much did you drink, man? Somebody should’ve cut you off.”

“Only a few shots and a beer,” Steve mutters. “Guess I’m more of a lightweight than I thought I was? I don’t know…don’t know…it’s been a while. Usually come here when I got someone to sit down with.” His head lolls back down towards his hands, scrubbing at them loosely under the water. There’s a tired, defeated, sad glint in his eyes. “Been striking out,” he mumbles, “people looking for…for situationships. I don’t even know…what does that mean? I wanted a date, not sex.”

Eddie sighs through his nose and eases his hand up and down the curve of Steve’s spine, petting him as if to soothe him. Which, he supposes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s not the first time he’s met a person out of their luck, crying into their drink. But the look in Steve’s eyes physically hurts. It reopens a hot chasm inside of him, bubbling like magma.

“Just take a minute,” Eddie murmurs, “let the room settle.”

Steve nods, slow and tired. Heavy. “Sorry, Eddie. I swear I’m better than this.” There’s a flash of a smile at those words, one that falls away just as quick as it came. He sniffles again, wet and unmistakeable. “Gonna be ringing in the new year alone, though. And I’ve got a headache. But…hey, I met you. Highlight of my night.”

When he chances a new look of Steve’s face fully, Eddie notes the fresh tracks of tears staining ruddy red cheeks. He coos softly under his breath, pressing his hand more firmly into his back, and stretches out to grab a distant paper towel. The water is still streaming from the faucet, and so he dips the napkin’s edge into the warm pour. Gently, he shifts Steve to face him better and brings the damp corner to his cheeks, patting over the tracks, rejuvenating the color in Steve’s skin so that it all matches.

For a moment, he’s caught out by the still watering hazel eyes on him—damn gorgeous they are, even like this—but they blink at him and he feels it, the stretch of Steve’s small smile. He returns it, of-fucking-course he returns it.

“Let’s get you cheered up, baby,” Eddie says softly, “the sky’s too full of fireworks for you to be sad.”

His palm strokes over Steve’s back, a heavy sweep of warmth. There’s the lulling rise and fall of his lungs, each breath unwavering and strong now, and not as nasally as it had been only moments prior. A hand sets on Eddie’s left hip, secure where it rests, fingers tightening into his belt loops.

“You always hang out with random strangers from the bar?” Steve questions quietly. There’s a hint, a little bit of something coating those words. A tidbit of heartbreak, if he had to give a name to it.

This close, Eddie can smell the last dredges of alcohol on Steve’s breath. There’s also the scent of his cologne, even as stale as it’s gone when he’d been hunched over the toilet, but it lingers. Peppery and warm and decadent like a slice of apple pie from the diner next door. He’s already getting that Steve’s as sweet as one, just needs to be righted slightly so it stands tall on the center of the plate.

The next words out of his mouth are tender and quiet, “No,” Eddie whispers, “you’re the only one.”

Steve hums, soaking up just as pie crust does. His hand tightens again on Eddie’s side. And then he sways them, half-steps, knees knocking. The sink is still streaming and there’s red rimming Steve’s honey eyes. It’s all so private. It’s almost just theirs. 

“Saying I’m an exception?” Steve then murmurs. 

His words land like gentle pecks to Eddie’s lips. And they’re closer than before. And he’d let them get even closer, if there was room.

“Why, you wanna be?”

“Mhm,” Steve buzzes.

The restroom door opens, a foot sandwiched in the gap of their space and the entire world. Eddie doesn’t let go, even if he was supposed to. Steve does, wearily aware. He finds himself not disappointed, though, not even in the slightest.

“You wanna be an exception over burgers now? There’s apple pie, too.”

“Yeah, Eds”—and oh, how that makes his chest flutter something incredible, his heart a newborn bird eager to take flight—“I wanna be your exception.”

If he wasn’t intrigued and swooning before, he most definitely is now.

But as it is, he simply pats Steve on the back and leads him out towards the bar again. Zipping through crowds of girls and forcing his way between boys about to brawl. There’s beer spilling out onto his clothes, that he hopes isn’t getting on Steve’s—doesn’t want to tarnish the absolute darling beauty he’s managed to rescue from the swamps of a muggy bar bathroom. Though, maybe it’s unavoidable. Maybe it’s just what is meant to happen.

Because something about Steve, his hand gripped tight in Eddie’s, the bounce of his step, his glassy eyes and loose smile when Eddie looks over his shoulder—something about the Steve of it all feels as close to myth alive as he’s allowed to believe. And, well, if there are more than three religions and some people don’t believe in any of it at all, then he can hold onto whatever the hell he wants. If Steve at his heels, chest slamming into his back as the cold outside air finally whips them in the face, is destiny, then…Eddie finally believes in destiny.

When the bar’s doors slam behind them and they’re overcome with the noise of distant fireworks and cars rolling by on crowded asphalt, Eddie begins to let go. Though, Steve grips to his fingers a smidge tighter than before.

“Wow,” Steve breathes beside him.

Eddie looks to him. His profile. The sharp angle of his nose, droop of his eyes, and curve of his easy smile. He follows his gaze, up to the sky.

A spattering of stars, only broken by the even brighter bursts of twinkling fireworks. Pinks and yellows and whites travel stark across the sky, each ember firing like a shooting star going home. He places his right hand over his chest, the beating of his heart a tumultuous, daunting thing. And he sighs, panting a short breath—

Let me keep him, he wishes, after tonight, let me have him. Please?

Steve squeezes their hands together, fingers sprawling so they can intertwine. His palm is sweaty, he’s shaking slightly. He laughs, though, a sputtering, unbelievable sound. “Thank god I’m outta there,” he whispers. Eddie gazes at the stretch of his neck, how his Adam’s apple resettles after bobbing out each individual word. There’s moles dotting there, too. Constellations, even more wonderful than the stars above them.

At least, Eddie thinks so. Objectively, he’s correct. Won’t hear anybody else on the matter.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and turns his eyes back to the sky. “Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you can only take so much being cramped in there. Everything’s a little more…”

“Sobering?”

“Real,” he corrects. “Everything’s more real.”

Their fingers are pretzeled together still. And as if to punctuate Eddie’s point, Steve makes him feel the pressure of their hands. As if to say, “We’re a little more real out here, too.” He supposes they are. And he supposes the budding warmth in his sternum—where he’s believed his soul to be his whole life—is real, too.

Eddie blinks, watching white streaks dissipate through the sky. His stomach grumbles, though, and he’s reminded with a back-handed slap why they’re out here. There’s plenty of time to watch fireworks later, but he’s only got such staggering minutes with Steve. And he promised food.

Maybe it’s too honest and maybe it’s a lot stupid—considering Steve is still such a stranger, an enigma to his brain—but he’d promise a whole lot more if he was allowed.

For now, he starts to drag them towards the diner. Only met with minor resistance from Steve’s stance. He relents quickly, though. Following after Eddie like a lost, scruffy puppy. Through the next burst of fireworks, he hears Steve’s stomach give a low grumble, too.

The greasy air of the diner hits him in one strong gust. Salt and cheese and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Pink bubblegum, too, as a hostess greets them at the door and leads them to a booth in the back right corner of the restaurant. The vinyl must be sticky when Steve bounces onto it, grimacing as his fingertips stay stuck like paw-pads on ice. Eddie finds out a second later when he saddles in right across from Steve, collecting the menus from the edge of the table as the hostess struts away to her bored stool at the coffee counter.

He hands over one menu, Steve taking it from him gingerly. With a passing, soft, “Thanks.” His eyes fall to the plastic sheet in his hands, seemingly enthralled by everything there is to choose from.

Eddie already knows what he wants, choosing to gaze ahead.

There’s a tiny pout to Steve’s lips, subtle an gentle, but definitely present. He’s muttering under his breath, thumbs tracing down the margins of the menu, half-formed sentences like, “Cheeseburger…tomatoes…lettuce—hmph—bacon optional, sounds good.” Steve takes the sleeve of his jacket and brings it up under his nose, wiping hastily at its tip. His face isn’t puffy or red anymore, just tinged with exhaustion. Even like this, slumped over a menu and recovering ever so slowly from the cold that had seeped into their bones and the roller coaster of emotions that had worked through their combined blood, Steve’s beauty is magnetic. But his thinking face? His consideration? His marveling wonder outside?

Aside from his looks, the rest of him still draws Eddie in.

Or maybe Eddie’s easier than he thought he was.

Or…or…Eddie knows what he wants.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes, “they’ve got fucking onion rings.”

“They’re pretty good,” Eddie amends.

Steve slams his menu to the surface of the table, hands spread, eyes wide insistently. “Of course they’re fucking good! They’re onion rings!” he softly exclaims. “Ooo, get ‘em with barbecue sauce and a Dr. Pepper? That right there is the champion of all meals.”

“Is that what you want?”

The menu’s picked up again. “Mmm…it does sound good…nah,” Steve says, eyes intense on the choices, “I’m still lookin’.”

Eddie snorts indignantly and greets their waitress. Ordering a basket of onion rings for the table, a couple waters, and a Dr. Pepper for “The man of the hour” with a half-gesture at Steve still muttering under his breath. It’s endearing how long it takes for Steve to finally settle on something, even if their combined grumbling stomachs get louder and louder, roaring over the tinny television in the opposite corner to their booth.

“You better pick something soon, else Anderson Cooper’s gonna blackout before the ball drops,” he gently teases, head nodding to the television. Steve looks to it, snorts, and glances back down at the menu. “I could also just pick something for you, if you’re too indecisive?”

“Chicken tenders,” Steve decides, “with crispy fries and a side of ranch.”

“Are you twelve?”

“Hey,” he objects defensively. “I happen to be a man of taste, thank you very much. It just so happens that I’ve got a young soul ’s’all.”

Eddie hums, face betraying him as it splits with a shining smile. Jeez, this guy is endearing. He leans over the table a bit, resting his chin in his hand; Steve mirrors him, smirking. Soft and low, he asks, “You still got a headache, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “It’ll probably stick with me tomorrow morning. Which sucks. I should’a left the bar as soon as my date stormed off. Would’a saved me a lot of trouble.”

But then you wouldn’t have met me, he wants to say, and that would suck worse.

“I’ve got Advil when the water comes. It’s the last dose in the bottle, but it should help. And also the Dr. Pepper. Caffeine might be good.”

“I don’t wanna take the last of your pills, man. You probably need it more than I do. Been working all day on your feet, I’m sure.”

He merely shrugs. “Yeah, well…I wanna help you. It’ll bring me some comfort if I can make you feel even a bit better, y’know?” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. Just looks at him like a confused, lost dog. Like he’s being offered scraps from a hand that doesn’t shake when he sniffs it. “But if it really bothers you,” Eddie continues, “then we can figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

Steve cozies deeper into his hand, blinking long at Eddie. “That sounds good,” he breathes. “Say the word…”

“We’ll figure it out before you go home, okay? Not something for you to worry about now.” He fishes the bottle of Advil from his pants’ pocket and opens it swiftly, spilling the tablets into the well of his palm. Steve’s other hand is flopped over on the table, atop his menu, relaxed. Eddie places the pills in his hand and closes his fingers. No argument. “After you eat, I’ll order your Lyft. And then…maybe I can get your number?” He’s cautious about the conversation, though the words hit him at once. Failed date, New Years Eve, situationship. Eddie rushes to add,  “Just so that you can text me when you get home safely, that’s all. Don’t…I don’t wanna come off as, like, preying on you or something. Y’know, after the whole…Yeah. Just. Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

As soon as the breath rushes out of him, it’s like Steve breathes it in, responding with a syrupy, tired giggle fit. His hand fists the Advil tablets tighter. A flush colors his skin, travels down his neck as he loses himself to his laughter. The stretch of his smile and sprawl of his giggles make his nostrils flare. And Eddie doesn’t know how, after seeing the same on so many other guys, but the way Steve’s face simply moves with his joy stirs something in him. Awakes a part that had been hiding in a seemingly unending hibernation.

Shit.

Catching his breath and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, Steve resettles. Breathes, “You were so worried!”

“I was!” Eddie exclaims. He makes a dramatic show of crossing his arms over his chest, pouting his lips. “I didn’t wanna overstep. It’d be un-gentlemanly of me.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, breath finally caught. There’s a big, goofy smile on his face still. His eyes glassy with—what Eddie assumes to be—happy tears. “You’ve already treated me way better than ninety percent of the dates I’ve been on, man. Don’t worry about…about being careful when asking for my number.” He rests in his palm again, his posture growing tired, slumping into the table. “I was gonna give it to you anyway.”

“Ninety percent? Who the hell do I need to fight?”

“People who are…unimportant and too full of themselves? I don’t know, Eds, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably just…I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. He shrugs half-heartedly again. “I’m gonna go home after this and go to bed, wake up with a raging headache, and probably wish that you were still sitting across from me. Feel like you’d know how to make it better.”

Eddie hums. “Well,”—he positions himself better, sitting up in his seat and folding his hands on the table—“tonight, I’m gonna make sure you ring in the New Year happier than you are right now. And then, when you get home, you’ll text me that you did. I’ll tell you to have a goodnight’s sleep. In the morning, when you wake up, I’ll text you again, ask if you want some coffee. Maybe, if you’re comfortable, I could bring it over to your place and we could have a simple breakfast?”

“You’d do that?”

“If you want me to.”

Steve goes silent, noticeably contemplative. His eyes adrift to the table. In the mean time, Eddie orders their food and passes over the drinks when they arrive. He nudges Steve to take his pills and points out something that Anderson Cooper’s doing on the television.

But he doesn’t bring up tomorrow morning, not right now at least.

Because maybe he’s overstepping this. He’s putting himself in a position Steve doesn’t want him in. Only thirty minutes ago, they were complete strangers in a bathroom bar, groaning and grumbling at each other for being so defensive and combative. Maybe Steve’s got a friend waiting for him back home? Waiting to let him back inside and take care of him in the secret way only true friends know how.

They aren’t anything more than mere acquaintances. No matter how many half-lidded flirty glances Steve passes his way. No matter how many times Eddie’s eyes wander to Steve’s mouth as he gobbles down his serving of onion rings, a wish ringing out in his head, words caught star-bound in his throat, admiring.

He’s allowed to admire.

Not allowed to have, though.

And maybe he won’t ever get there. This will be it. A late night dinner, wishing Happy New Years, jokes tossed across the table like clumsy frisbees taking flight, and an aching in his chest. Feelings blooming in his sternum so suddenly, so abrasively, they’re thorns staggered sharp into his lungs. 

He breathes, his chest seizes, and the whiff of Steve’s stale cologne burrows inside him. He blinks, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Steve’s strong shining summer smile brands to the deep crevices of Eddie’s brain. He laughs, their giggles blend, and the process starts all over again.

Is this what sunflowers feel like? Soaking up the sun, all that they can, and then begin the brittle early death of wilting into oneself? They have to wait so long to be born again.

Eddie doesn’t want this to be a one time thing, dead in the middle of winter, dead before it could be alive.

Steve will have his number, though. He’ll have a weakened headache in the morning now that he’s had some caffeine and begun processing a couple Advil. From there, though, the future is possible, but unseen. He’s not sure if he’s even something Steve could be looking for.

Wishful thinking, he tells himself, hopeful wishing.

“Dude, try this!”

He blinks back to himself, presented with a chicken tender thrusted into his face. It’s dripping in ranch, so Steve’s hand is cupped underneath it, trying to save the table. Eddie gapes, looking to Steve’s face.

The chicken tender is pushed into his space harder. “These are the best tenders I’ve ever had in my fucking life, and I need you to support me on this. Try it.”

At Steve’s request, he gingerly takes a bite. For some odd reason, he finds himself holding their intent and intense eye contact, unwavering. It’s just a chicken tender, nothing to write home about. Not like it tastes any different than the ones he can pick up from the Dairy Queen by his apartment, but if Steve’s saying it’s the best one he’s had…

“That’s pretty fuckin’ bomb, Stevie,” he says. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth. But it does earn him bright eyes and warm cheeks, a side by side dance in the booth across from him, and a pleased little grin. So…maybe these chicken tenders are the best, especially if they get a pretty boy like Steve to look at him like that.

“Told you,” Steve says around his next bite—half of a chicken tender and two folded onion rings. “You ever dip ‘em in gravy, though? That would blow away your socks, blow up your mind, and suck your dick.”

“You, uh, you really don’t fuck around when it comes to chicken tenders, do you?”

“I don’t fuck around with anything. I’m a set-in-stone kind of guy.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Eddie involuntarily choke on air, his eyes drifting away, flush high on his cheeks. He takes a few, quiet bites of his cheeseburger. It’s mediocre and spilling with grease, the bun is stale and the ketchup is weirdly cold, but he savors it. At least it isn’t another basket of tortilla chips and jarred salsa from the bar—he’d probably rip out his own stomach if he had to eat any more of those.

Steve tries to offer him another chicken tender, but Eddie pushes it back gently towards him. Tries not to coo over the soft, sad pout that the gesture earns him. “It’s your food,” he says, “I wanna make sure you eat it, sweetheart. You need it more than me.”

“But I wanna share it with you.”

“Stevie,” he murmurs, “I’ve already got my”—

He’s offered the chicken again. With a very forceful, “Take a bite. You worked for hours, I can tell from how tired you seem, and I want to share this with you.” And then—the bastard—adds a puppy-eyed pout to say, “Please? It would help me feel better.”

Eddie sighs dramatically, leaning forward and taking another bite. He raises his eyebrows, gazing at Steve as he rescinds his food offering. “Happy now?”

Steve nods, smiling as he does so. “Very.” He pops a fry in his mouth and crunches down on it, his grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s. And then, his focus goes back on his basket of food, none the wiser to Eddie’s openly affectionate adoration.

He forces himself to look away, to stop getting caught up on the Steve of it all, this night. Probably one of the best New Years Eves he’s ever had. Eddie takes a deep breath, though, and looks to the television.

Forty seconds to midnight.

How’d their night drive by so damn fast?

“You gonna count down with me?” Eddie asks, interrupting the lull of silence that filled between them.

“Mm, among one other thing, yeah.”

“What other”—

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve quickly adds, dropping his food into his basket, “how much time do we have?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

He watches Steve wipe his fingers on a nearby napkin, counting aloud with “Fourteen.”

And as the numbers go down, Steve pushes himself closer over the table. Eddie can only match with him.

Ten.

This close, Steve no longer smells like his cologne. Just barbecue sauce and onion rings, the grease from chicken tenders, and a lighter thing that he can’t quite place. Something happy, whatever it is.

Eight.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have nice eyes, Stevie?”

“Don’t think anybody’s really taken notice.”

“Well…”—Eddie breathes gently—“you have really nice eyes.”

Five.

Steve slides his hand across the table, gripping for Eddie’s left. Their fingers tangle, pretzeled together. Warm, even there. His smile is warmer, though, and Eddie begins melting at the sight of it. He wonders if Steve is thinking the same thing.

Three.

“Two,” Eddie breathes.

He squeezes their hands. “One,” Steve sighs. And with it, he surges the last few inches over the table, pulling Eddie towards him, planting a delicate kiss on his lips. It doesn’t carry longer than a couple seconds, but it lingers. Lingers like the decadent, sweet scent of apple pie. They’ll have to get slices before parting.

The diner fills with cheers, whoops and hollers. There’s a burst of multi-colored light outside, painting the left side of Steve’s face with pinks and blues and yellows. Maybe it’s all so cliche. Maybe Eddie tripped and fell, went into some head trauma-induced coma where he can only dream of a picture perfect world waiting for him.

But Steve squeezes his hand again, fingernails pinching into his soft skin.

Eddie knows he’s awake.

The haziness has cleared from Steve’s eyes, replaced with romantic determination. And Eddie knows he must be mirroring something like that, too.

“Happy New Years, Steve.”

“Happy New Years, Eddie,” he murmurs—the breath ghosts over Eddie’s lips, close enough to kiss them—“best night I’ve had in a really long while, thank you.”

He wants to kiss him again, so he does. Gentle and quick, sweetly though, and drenching.

If a night could last forever, he’d pick this one right here.

“My pleasure,” he says and means it to the core of his soul.

“Can I take you up on that coffee tomorrow? I have donuts back home, we could make a morning of it.”

Eddie swallows, sure that Steve hears him. His palm sweats and the thing inside him, stirring and rolling the whole night, is finally, finally alert. “Of course, sweetheart”—it fills him with giddy pride the way that nickname brings a flush to Steve’s cheeks—“what time?”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready. I wanna hear your morning voice.”

“You flatter me.”

Steve raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Eddie’s. His lips are sticky, somehow, but sweet. The next time they kiss, he hopes Steve tastes like pie. “Good,” Steve whispers, “you deserve to be flattered now.”

And maybe it wasn’t the most romantic start to their relationship…

But Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

🎆—————🎆

[the-daydreaming-show]

(3.) Dreams Made Heavy.

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

Or

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

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

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Previus Part: (2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

AO3 / Story Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded with a softer smile this time.

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

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

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

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

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

We are not talking about food. Of course not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow.”

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

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

“Oh, I should get back—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Part: ...

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Ok for the au stories fullmetal alchemist/ Harry Potter… Ed adopting a female Harry and teaching her to be a badass

Female Harry loves her grandma Izumi

Harriet Potter was an odd girl. She looked normal. Long black hair always in a braid, a fondness for red that occupied her wardrobe, big green eyes. But the fact was she was odd. She wore red yes but also the strangest sort of jewelry. Huge skull rings, tacky necklaces and clothing that one Muggleborn commented looked like it came right from Hot Topic, whatever that was.

She was ridiculously smart, and fond of debating with her teachers about everything. Her reaction to Transfiguration as a loud ‘what the actual fuck’ lived on in Hogwarts history but she also excelled in it. She even did well in potions despite Snape being… himself.

She was foul mouthed but incredibly polite to McGonagall, Pomphrey and Sprout. She always was writing in her notebook and loved to study but also tossed the books to the side to have fun.

Ron liked it. Hermione, other then disliking the cursing alongside the lack of respect for the male teachers, liked Harriet to. Or Harry as she told them to call her.

“Wait what?” Harry said as she flipped through a rather large book. “What the… fucking hell!” She jumped up and took off. “Gotta Owl my dad!”

“Who did take her in?” Hermione wondered out loud. “According to everyone she lived with her aunt and uncle but she said she was taken from them by the authorities.”

“Huh?” Ron hadn’t heard that. Hermione nodded.

“I asked her some stuff about London and she told me she’d lived in Amestris since she was six because a Military Officer took her from her relatives when they were being arrested,” Hermione said.

“Amestris?” Percy asked, having been walking by. “The only All Magical country?”

“Harry says it does have Muggles they just don’t hold with keeping magic a secret because they’re under a military dictatorship and most magical people have to register,” Hermione said. “She did say the laws are loosening after a revolt about fifteen years back…”

“Seventeen,” Harry was back with her owl on her shoulder. The girl sat down to begin to write. “Can’t believe a Philospher’s Stone…” she muttered.

“Oh! Nicholas Flamel! Yeah he’s right famous for being the one person-“ Percy began but Harry snorted.

“Amestris has a few people who made one. My dad even figured it out.” She told Percy bluntly. “And it’s foul.”

“Wait, really?” Hermione asked in surprise. Percy didn’t look like he believed it as Ron simply watched Harry.

“Yeah. Also, turn lead into gold?” Harry stopped writing to grab a new piece of paper she drew a circle on and then wrote what looked like runes down. She grabbed a pencil lead Hermione had (she used something called mechanical pencils which were kinda cool) and placed it in the circle.

Harry clapped her hands and touched the circle, causing a blue glow to envelope the lead. When it was done, a golden rod lay where the lead was. Percy stared in open mouth shock.

“Gold isn’t hard for any alchemist to do. It’s just illegal in Amestris and England actually. The only good thing Flamel did was claim the Stone was the only way,” Harry said. “I have to turn it back, but you can scan it to prove it.”

“Why is it illegal?” Ron asked, staring at the lead hungrily.

“Economics. To much gold added to the economy causes prices to rise,” Harry explained. “Things get more expensive and money becomes useless.” She let Percy verify what the thing was before she turned it back to lead.

“What else is wrong with the Stone?” Hermione asked.

“How it’s made. My dad and Uncle figured out how and were so disgusted they backed out of their goals,” Harry said grimly. “Alchemy is equivalent exchange. I can’t make things out of nothing. Conjured items here don’t last either,” Harry sounded relieved when she said that, “as you’re offering energy. But Alchemy is a science. Not magic. My other Uncle, Roy, he’s a Muggle but he can use Alchemy. All you need is what goes in.”

“Whoa!” Ron was impressed but then a thought struck him. He felt his face go pale as Hermione asked about what kind of Alchemy Roy did. “Wait… what’s Equivalent for a long life?”

Harry looked at him grimly. “A few hundred years ago Xerxes was destroyed in a single night. No one knew who had done it, not until seventeen years ago when Amestris nearly met the same fate. A man, no a monster had done it. Created a Philosopher’s Stone. He used Xerxes.”

“No…” Ron said as Hermione huffed.

“What does that mean?” The girl asked.

“A life for a life,” Percy said, his voice shaking. Harry nodded.

“So if Flamel is over six hundred years old… who did he kill for his Stone?” Harry asked quietly.