#「 ❝ i don’t think i believe in deep down. ❞ — PLAYLIST 」

[rafeysbambi]

bambi

part vii

summary:

kind, sweet and the definition of innocent, obsessed with pink, bows and all animals but especially deers. y/n has barely held a boys hand let alone been kissed until rafe cameron lays eyes on her

a/n:

hey hi i’m back home! finally! man i hope yall understand what i mean when i say it’s so attractive when guys do tht thing when they drive one handed with their palm and do the spinny thing yano 😙😙 oh wow i am looking back at this and THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY i genuinely have explosive verbal diarrhoea its incurable 😟😔 so pls grab a snack or something anyway hope u guys enjoy!

rafe lead you out to his car, his hand hovering over the small of your back. he opened your door for you and closed it before jogging around to his seat, handing you his phone. “you’re in charge of the music.” he looked at you and winked before starting the car.

“hmmm but i don’t know what to play, what do you feel like?” you asked, thumbs nervously hovering over the keyboard.

“play me your music, that’s what i wanna hear, just click on one of your playlists doll” and so you obliged, pressing shuffle on your favourite playlist. as lana del rey started playing, he looked over to you, “cute”. the music was far from what rafe would usually listen to but it was so incredibly you. he couldn’t help but to steal glances at you as he drove, watching the way the glow of the sunset was hitting your face in the most picturesque way. you hummed along to the words of say yes to heaven, your eyes locking with rafe’s as you sung “i’ve got my eyes on you’ causing you both to smile at each other. “you’ve got such a pretty voice on you.”

“thank you” you say as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, immediately blushing as his arm goes around the back of your seat as he reversed back into the parking spot. “very impressive” you said giggling as he winks at you.

“i aim to please.” he gets out of the car, quickly jogging to open the door for you. he leads you to the restaurant, his hand finding the small of your back. “reservation for rafe cameron” he says to the host who smiles back at the two of you, quickly nodding before leading you to your table.

“it’s beautiful rafe” you say looking out at the sunset gleaming down on the docks. you can’t help but to smile at him, this was your first ever date and everything felt perfect. it truly felt like you were in one of your favourite romcoms that you’ve watched over and over.

“i’m glad you like it, i think so too” he smiled back at you, he was completely blown away at how beautiful you were. every single moment spent with you had him falling faster than he ever had before.

“ooh oh oh i know what i want��� you exclaimed closing the menu seconds after opening it. you smile at him, swinging your feet under the table like a giddy little girl.

“how do you know already, i just watched you open it.” rafe laughed at you.

“i saw ravioli and needed to look no further.” you said in a matter of fact way. you can’t hide the grin on your face.

“ravioli huh? y’know the steak here is undeniably the best thing on the menu” he smirks at you before closing his menu and placing it down.

“oh really? maybe i’ll try it then” you said looking up at him through your lashes.

the waiter soon came over to take your orders, “i’ll have ribeye, medium rare thanks.” rafe said handing the waiter his menu before looking over at you expectantly.

“could i please have the ravioli” you say handing the waiter your menu before looking over at rafe who was feigning betrayal.

“and here i was thinking you were going to get the steak. absolute betrayal.”

you couldn’t help but to giggle at his antics, “i’m truly sorry, the craving for ravioli was just to deep.” you smiled over at him, “besides why would i need to get the steak when i can just steal some of yours.”

“i cannot believe what i’m hearing, who would’ve thought little miss y/n could be so evil.” you playfully rolled your eyes at him before your eyes locked with each other and suddenly it was like you were the only people in the room, scratch that the only people in the world. “god you’re so beautiful.” you immediately looked away trying to hide the fact your cheeks were flushed red. “seriously it’s like each time i look into you eyes, everything else disappears and i’m swept away by this beautiful gorgeous angel in front of me.” you looked back at him, a smile creeping upon your face. “just a shame you’ve got such poor menu choices.”

“oh shut up” you stuck your tongue out at him. the waiter came over with your meals. “wow look at this ravioli, i made the right decision.”

“doesn’t even come close to this mouthwatering steak mmm, c’mon i know you’re regretting your choice right about now.”

you popped a piece of ravioli into your mouth, “mm mm nm so good” you muffled out.

“finish what’s in your mouth before you finish speaking, god hasn’t anyone ever taught you table manners” he teases before you both started laughing. he cut a bite of the steak off and offered it to you. your lips wrapped around the steak as you ate it off his fork. you couldn’t lie that was some beautifully cooked steak.

“okay that was pretty good, but my ravioli is still definitely the better option.” you returned the favour offering rafe a piece of your ravioli.

“i mean it’s good.” rafe smiled back at you unable to respond, still thinking about how gorgeous you looked, even the way you ate his steak was driving him crazy.

you both finished up your food continuing to steal glances at each other. as you got up to leave, rafe’s arm found the small of your back and his head dipped down to your ear, “you ready to admit my steak was better.”

you looked up into his eyes smiling, you whispered a small “never” before the two of you walked towards the door.

“yo rafe bro”, you were quickly interrupted as topper dapped up rafe bringing him in for a hug. “damn bro what’s up, man what’re you doing here?”

rafe placed his arm around your shoulder, “we just grabbed some dinner.” topper looked over to you, his eyes nearly popped out his head.

“oh shit man nice.” he turned his attention to you, “y/n right?” you nodded giving him a small smile. “i’m topper, you can call me top though if you want” he smiled back at you. “god i’m starving man i can’t wait to get the ravioli, it’s crazy good here.”

rafe rolled his eyes as you giggled, causing topper to raise his eyebrow. “not you too man, the ribeye is a hundred times better.”

“nah bro, the ravioli is the move” you nod with topper in agreement, “see she gets it. yo that’s crazy bumping into you bro, i’m actually meeting ruthie here in a sec, we could’ve gone on a double date man.”

“damn what a shame, we sure did miss out” rafe says sarcastically causing you to giggle and topper to roll his eyes.

at that moment ruthie walked over placing her hand on toppers shoulder, “what’s the holdup i’m starving”, she looked over at rafe and then you. “oh wow y/n, did not expect to see you here with rafe of all people.”

“what do you mean by that ruthie?” rafe is quick to fire back at her, not wanting to deal with her rubbish.

“just not used to her being around you y’know-“

“well you can get used to it.” his arm moved to grip around your waist, you felt his thumb drawing small circles against your skin.

“how cute, oh i have an idea, why doesn’t y/n come to the bonfire tomorrow rafe, that is if you haven’t invited her yet.” ruthie’s eyes narrowed at you clearly trying to get under your skin.

“yeah man that sounds great, i’m sure y/n would prefer to hang around me and the guys over you anyway” topper said trying to lighten the mood.

rafe looked down at you, sensing you were uncomfortable, “alright bro well we’re gonna go i’ll see you later.” you smiled at topper before rafe lead you outside the restaurant to his car. he made sure you got into the passenger seat of the car before he got into his seat, looking over to you, “are you alright?”

“i just don’t understand why she has to be such a-“

“bitch?” he looks over to you and smiled. he reached over to hold your hand his thumb tracing small patterns on the back of your hand. “ruthie’s just like that, a bit of a miserable person. i really don’t know what top see’s in her.” he looked over to you a smiled, “and look you don’t have to come to the bonfire if you don’t want to, it’ll be loud and people can get a bit messy, we can do something else.”

“no it’s fine, i want to go to the bonfire” you looked over to him, “i’ve never actually been to one before.”

“i’ll make sure it’s worth it then” he said as he pulled into your driveway. he got out the car before coming around to open your door, holding his hand out for you to take. he walked you to your door before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i hope you enjoyed tonight because i know i did.”

“i loved it rafe, truly.” you can’t help but to smile at the handsome boy stood in front of you.

“i’m glad” he said smiling back at you.

you reached up onto your tippy toes, planting your hands on his shoulders to support yourself as you placed a delicate kiss onto rafe’s cheek “goodnight rafe.”

“goodnight princess.”

[propertyofwicked]

YOUR NECKLACE - LN

no warnings just fluff + some SMAU <3 (one mention of sick, no specific detail)

-> lemme know ur thoughts! my inbox is open!! <3

masterlist the playlist

after successfully keeping their relationship secret for 9 months, lando truly believed it was time for him to properly introduce his girlfriend to the world of motorsport. she’d attended races before but always under general admission, usually alone, but sometimes accompanied by the likes of max and p. and it wasn’t as if the fans didn’t know who she was, they just knew her as ‘y/n who works with quadrant’, ‘y/n that reset the cones in the driving video’, ‘y/n that keeps her social media private’ - never once being considered lando’s girlfriend, which worked well for the two.

the panic had set in that morning as she dressed for the day, her hands constantly running over her outfit, checking the way she looked in the mirror from every angle - she wanted to believe that no one would care, or even notice that she was there, but deep down she knew that making the jump from general admission to paddock would gain some chatter on twitter.

“you look perfect,” lando had whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he tugged her away from the mirror.

“maybe they’ll just think im helping with a quadrant project,” she said absentmindedly, more trying to convince herself than actually respond to him.

“maybe,” he nodded along with her, mulling over his next words, “we can walk in separately if you want? they might not assume anything if they don’t see us together?”

“it’s not that i dont want us to be seen together,” she told him as she moved to the floor, tying her shoelaces up, “i just hate to think what’ll be said about me if they do.”

“i know, angel,” he reassured her, offering out a hand to pull her up, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead when she returned to his level.

the journey to the track was a quiet one, the two of them engaging in light conversation, eventually deciding they’d just walk in together, keep PDA to the minimum and ‘run and hide at the first sign of trouble’ y/n had joked.

lando paced up and down his drivers room, the sleeves of his racing overalls swinging with every step, from where they sat around his hips. he was getting into the right mindset, music playing, and yet his mind raced with every fear of the looming race.

“sit in the garage,” he asked her, halting his pacing to turn and face her.

“what?” she replied, half unsure she’d misheard him.

“watch from the garage - please,” he repeated moving to take steps towards her, noticing the way her fingers twisted at the rings that adorned them.

“are you sure?” she checked, as he grabbed her wrists to stop her anxious fiddling.

“never been more sure in my life,” he told her, using her arms to pull himself closer, joining the two of them in a sweet kiss.

“ok, ill be there,” y/n responded against him, parting only for a moment before connecting their lips again. the kiss was short and sweet, cut off by oscar knocking telling him it was time to go.

she stood in the garage, smiling at a few engineers she recognised before finding herself a seat. the nerves were washing over her again, but now they were for lando. y/n always worried during races, scared on his crashing, worried he wouldn’t perform as well as everyone knew he could. her hand reached up to her chest, instinctively searching for her necklace - lando had bought it for her before they were even together, knowing from the moment she smiled at it and looked up to thank him that this was it for him, she was his future. but the necklace wasn’t there, the girl panicked slightly, fearing she had lost it or it had fallen off before concluding that in her distraction this morning she had simply forgotten to put it on.

that’s ok, you’re a grown woman who can control her nerves. you don’t need a necklace to calm yourself down - you’re not even the one racing she told herself, letting out a deep sigh as she tried to believe herself. no one else in the garage seemed to notice her, a fact she was fairly happy about, hoping that the same would be said for the hundreds of news and tv stations priming their cameras for the race.

but someone had noticed her, recognising the look on her face as the same one she had been wearing all morning. only lando could decipher what her expression meant - she was nervous, of course, scared for him, but also filled with a small buzz of excitement - he couldn’t quite understand how one person could feel so much all at the same time, and not combust on the spot. nevertheless he jogged over to her.

“lando? aren’t you supposed to be like, getting your helmet on?” she asked him, shocked slightly at his sudden appearance. he looked at her, his hand tugging at the top of his fireproofs and pulling his own necklace from where it was trapped behind the fabric.

“forgot to take this off,” he told her, hands moving behind his neck to unclasp the metal, “will you look after it for me?”

she nodded up at him, her outstretched hands halted as he stood close, hands moving the metal around her own neck and clasping it. the metal dropped against her skin, the warmth from him wearing it transferring to her.

“thanks, love you,” he told her, a rushed kiss planted on her lips before he jogged away from her again.

his face carried a smirk as he left her, knowing he hadn’t truly forgotten to take the piece of jewellery off. in actual fact, he’d noticed her missing necklace the moment they’d arrived at the track and made it his mission to have his own hung around her neck, almost as a badge of honour. the two had agreed to keep their relationship private from the public, somewhat of a secret - but now she sat in his garage, wearing his necklace. it was the bare minimum display of the love they shared, but it was enough for him, and it was enough for her.

oscar quirked his eyebrow at his teammates smirk, receiving a quick tell you later before the two pulled their balaclavas down.

the gesture was so simply and so subtle and the girl was oblivious to the moment being caught on camera. the moment a yellow flag was called, the sky tv cameras filled the wait time by zooming in on the faces of loved ones sitting in each drivers garage. however, y/n remained oblivious to the lens focusing closely on her, the camera closely capturing the way she fiddled at the necklace before dropping it as normal lap conditions resumed.

"good day then?" y/n asked him softly, her head resting on his bare chest as she listened to his heart beat - lando felt the way her cool fingers fiddled with the necklace around his neck. that godforsaken necklace, quite frankly the only necklace to ever cause so much uproar online.

"soft launched on live tv and p3? i wouldn't have it any other way," lando replied softly, chucking lightly as his hand brushed through her hair.

“that checks out, mr nowins,” she teased, tilting her head to grin at him.

"being with you is a win in itself," he replied, taking the nickname in his stride.

"gross," the girl responded, pretending to vomit at his attempt at being cute.

“i am sorry though - i should’ve known that would happen, i should’ve checked with you before hanging the “lando’s girlfriend” sign around your neck,” he replied with a sigh, his head dropping to press a kiss to her forehead, his cheek resting on her head as they spoke.

“it’s ok lan, i knew there was a possibility of something like this happening,” she replied.

“and it was fairly subtle - we could probably play it off for a little longer,” lando suggested, knowing that neither of them were quite ready to expose the extent of their relationship just yet. at least this had given them the opportunity to be a little more careless with their efforts to hide from the public. they were private, not secret, and lando couldn’t be happier to preserve this part of his personal life for a little longer.

“im just glad we no longer have the responsibility of a big announcement,” she laughed, “god knows we’re both too lazy for that.”

“who’s we?” he grumbled jokingly, “im the one with the public account. besides, im more than hard launched on your page.”

“ah the joys of an ordinary life,” y/n joked, her arms stretching out in feigned bliss, “however i feel like i should steer clear of twitter for a while.”

“that’s probably for the best,” he agreed, his tone saddening slightly at the memory of things he’d seen posted about not only his ex girlfriend, but some of the claims people had already began making about the girl lying below him.

“hey!” she started noticing his change in mood, and pushing her body weight back to look at him, “none of that. today is a good day. trust me, ill take any excuse to get my screentime down.”

“i love you,” he told her, grabbing at her body to pull her back into his embrace, “more than you could imagine.”

liked by maxfewtrell, team_quadrant and 111,230 others

landonorris soft launching on live tv wasn't enough, time to promote her to the gram

comments on this post have been limited.

maxfewtrell so glad i dont have to worry about slipping up on stream anymore

-> maxfewtrell chat aren't ready for what i have to say.

maxfewtrell 2nd photo is a violationnn - ynpng, pietra.pilao u gonna let this slide?

-> ynpng am i fuck. pietra.pilao we ride at dawn.

-> pietra.pilao omw queen.

-> maxfewtrell run landonorris whilst u still can

-> pietra.pilao you told me you deleted that photo maxfewtrell - sleep with one eye open xx

ynpng hate u with every fibre of my being rn <3

-> landonorris nuh uh

-> ynpng gonna unprivate my acc and let the world see the video of you falling down the stairs

-> landonorris might accidentally leak the video of you and the shoe incident

-> ynpng you wouldn't dare.

-> landonorris you wanna bet?

[maisanshine]

#𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍| 𝐉𝐉𝐊

He didn’t even cross my mind

The playlist series

Paring- one nightstand!Jungkook X one nightstand!reader

Warnings: cheating, unprotected sex, breeding, marking, pussy eating, pussy slapping, cum eating, fingering, overstimulation, somonphila?,

WC: 592

A/N; this one is short:) can y'all believe this man is 27 years old?

Now Playing #Icanteven - the neighborhood

Not edited

☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

“I could fuck you forever baby girl” jungkooks head is deep in the curve of your neck. His hard cock pressing up against the lewd walls of your cum filled cunt.

Your phone with 6 missed calls from your boyfriend, forgotten on the Jungkook’s coffee table.

Your hand aches from the grip you have on his back. Marking your nails into his pale skin.

Jungkook pulls out of your cunt. Placing paperweight kisses down your neck then on the valley of your breast, your stomach until he lands in front of your pussy.

He looks at the sight smiling. He licks a long stripe collecting the fallen cum off your lips. You moan tired, you've been at it for hours. Your mind is heavy, body satisfied. The only thing you need is a trip to dreamland.

For at least a minute or two. Jungkook licks you again waking you up. You flinch. Moving your head. “Don’t if so bad anymore huh?” he says. Warping his arms around your thighs.

You can't hear him, you just hear ringing in your ears. Are you even alive? You don't know, you feel numb like you are lying on a cloud.

Your eyes shut, and you feel soft vibrations through your body. The darkness behind your eyes is comforting, relaxing. You feel Jungkook’s passion against you.

Jungkook rubs his nose into you, licking you clean. He’s face deep in your pussy. His tongue brushes up every edge of you. He could die between your legs. Crazy how you two met 3 hours ago. He can't believe it.

Jungkook looks up at you. Your body is stiff but you continue making little noises for him. You are nearly asleep. Jungkook slaps your wet cunt, you flinch. “Cum for me one more time baby, please?”

“Huh?” falls out your lips, you're so delirious. Jungkook chuckles, he fingers you. Fucking his cum into you. He licks you sucking and fingering your simulated clit.

“ you didn't answer my questions baby?” you slumped your head to the other side.

“What…did…you…say?” Jungkook repays his question. “You don’t feel bad for cheating on your man anymore?” You shake your head. Your eyes shut completely.

“ you need to speak, I’m head deep in this cunt of yours baby” You open your eyes.

You look down seeing Jungkook, your eyes are tired and heavy. Is he still going? Four nuts inside you weren’t enough for him. He just had to eat you out too? You think.

You drop your head back on the couch. How did you even get on the couch? You were in his bed? Jungkook takes you out of your train of thought. With his fingers moving faster. He adds another, licking you faster. Your body tensing.

“Fuck” you can’t move, you too tired. “No I don’t feel bad, he didn’t even pass my mind” You touch Jungkook’s head. Softly scratching his head.

Your cunt is pulsing faster by the second. Your body is on fire. As if you ran for 7 miles without stopping. Jungkook’s fingers move faster, his tongue slips into your hole. You flinch, the muscle brushing against you. You moan.

“Jungkook, I’m going to” You can barely speak. You cum on his face. Your body shaking. Heart racing you can’t take it anymore. You crying from exhaustion.

Jungkook licks your fluids off his lips and upper lip. He stands up, carrying you to bed. “I’m so glad baby, he I can't even-” You don’t get to hear the last of his sentence. You knocked out.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - The two of you have some time to yourselves for what feels like the first time in forever.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x female reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. mention of a panic attack. initial hospital setting. one alcohol mention.

Word Count - 4k

Authors Note - 10!! 10 whole chapters!! can you believe it!! pancake recipe taken from mr carlos sainz - thanks carlito <3. double date next chapter (with protective/jealous bucky, as requested ;)). and the much awaited conversation… coming very soon. thanks for the love and support and kindness. it means the world, always <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”

“… which was?”

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.

“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We can’t sit out here forever, honey.”

You stretch out your legs from where they’ve been tucked up against your chest, chin resting on your knees. Bucky places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles.

“We can.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“I know it’s scary, but we can’t run from this any longer. We’re just going to have to face it head on.”

“I know,” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’m just…”

You trail off, leaving words unspoken in the air like particles of dust in the sunlight.

“What are you so afraid of? Is it that they won’t support us? Honey girl, they aren’t gonna have much of a choice. We are literally soulmates.”

You’re trying to find a way to explain, but none of your thoughts are coherent enough to articulate into something comprehensible.

“I don’t know, Buck. At first, I think it was that. But now? Maybe I just feel guilty that we’ve kept something so huge a secret for so long. I used to tell my parents everything - by choice. That’s how we’ve always been. And suddenly, the biggest event of my life happens, and I… didn’t tell them?”

“You’re letting this guilt eat you alive, baby. Listen, I feel it too. You’re not alone in this. Do you know how many times your parents have asked me about dating in these last eighteen months? How many times we’ve talked about soulmates? And I guess I never lied… but I haven’t exactly told the truth. I’m just as guilty as you think you are.”

“I’m sorry,” you confess, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’ve had such tunnel vision with this whole situation. I’ve been selfish. I should have thought about you more.”

“You haven’t had to.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, honey baby. You’ve never had to ‘think about me more’, because you’ve known how I felt this whole time. In here.”

He places a hand over your heart. You close your eyes, letting the warmth from his palm bleed into your chest. The weight of it grounds you back down to Earth, tethered to your soulmate in more ways than one.

“That’s the beauty of it,” he continues. “You don’t have to guess how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling it - because I’m always telling you. And you’re always listening.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand where it’s still linked with yours.

“The Universe disagrees,” he whispers back, leaning in to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “I disagree.”

It’s all so tender, so gentle, so real, that a lump in your throat forms instantly. You blink rapidly, fighting back tears as you press your side into his. If you could sew yourself into his ribcage and live there forever, resting your head on his beating heart, you would.

“Come on,” he coaxes carefully, pulling you to your feet and watching to see if you’re steady enough. “Let’s do this thing.”

You stare up at him, lost in those ocean blue irises. For a moment, you swear you see the waves moving in them, crashing against the shore in a motion so comforting, it reminds you of home.

“I love you.”

Bucky smiles at you, pupils dilating and heart beating that little bit faster. He’ll never get sick of hearing those words.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, honey girl. More than anything.”

Tangling your fingers with his, you inhale deeply before taking the first step forwards, towards the front doors of the hospital.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you reach your Dad’s room, you drop Bucky’s hand as if by instinct. When he links your fingers once more, you panic momentarily, before realising it’s futile.

They already know. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.

You walk through the door hand in hand, pressed into each others sides as if it’ll keep you standing upright. Maybe it will.

Your Mom instantly bolts out of her chair, coming over to assess you. She looks you up and down, cradling your face in her hands as she checks you over.

“You were gone a long time, sweetheart. You okay? Have you been crying?”

Bucky lets go of you to give you some space, but doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his warmth from behind you as you watch your Mom’s eyebrows furrow with worry.

“I had… I think it was, um… like a - a panic attack, or something. I don’t know. I just got overwhelmed.”

Your voice sounds so small again, so fragile. You mentally chastise yourself for not being stronger for her.

“Oh, honey.”

She pulls you into her chest, stroking your hair just like she did when you were a child and had a nightmare. You’d run across the hall and into your parents room - your Mom would always bolt upright when she heard little feet on the wooden floors, waiting for you with open arms.

“Your Dad is gonna be fine. I promise you, the Doctors have said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“It’s true.”

The voice is croaky and rusted from misuse, but it unmistakably belongs to the man lying in the hospital bed.

You make your way over and sit down carefully, cautious and calculated. Your Dad takes your hand, stroking his thumb across your skin.

“I’m gonna be just fine, kid. I know I scared you, and I’m really sorry. But I’m okay. Promise.”

You smile at him, genuinely this time, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You guys should go home.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go home, get some rest. The two of you look almost as exhausted as Lori does.”

Your Mom laughs, shaking her head. You chuckle, watching them. There’s no one funnier than your soulmate.

“I think we should stay a little longer, Jack.”

Bucky’s voice has all three of your heads whipping around to face him.

“Buck, please be on my side here. You’re tired. Go home, sleep it off. All I’m gonna do for the next twenty four hours is sleep anyway. There’s no point in you sitting here watching me like a bunch of creeps.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching your Dad’s face carefully.

“Mom, Dad - we need to talk about-”

“I know, babygirl,” your Dad interrupts. “And we will. But not here, and not now. We’ll do it when I’m home. We can all sit on the couch and drink your Mom’s cherry lemonade and talk about how you and Bucky have been soulmates this entire time.”

“Not this entire time,” you grumble at his attempt at a joke.

“Seriously, you two. I won’t ask again. Go. Home.”

You look at your Dad for a moment, before averting your gaze to your Mom. They’re both wearing the exact same facial expression - the one they used to give you when you’d refuse your bedtime as a six year old on a school night.

“Come on, honey. You heard them. We’re practically dead on our feet.”

You rise from the bed reluctantly, pressing another kiss to your Dad’s cheek before doing the same to your Mom.

“Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything. I mean anything, you guys.”

They both nod as your Dad does a mock salute, laughing at himself.

Bucky extends his hand out for you. This time, you don’t hesitate to take it. You hold it tightly all the way back to his truck, and then all the way back home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky get ready for bed in silence, both of you flitting around your apartment as quickly as possible. You can’t wait to finally get under your duvet and lose the stress of the last twenty four hours.

The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re wide awake.

The exhaustion has seeped into your bones, making you weary but restless. You can’t settle, physically or mentally.

Bucky, on the other hand, is out like a light.

He looks so peaceful like this. The moonlight soaks through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his face like some sort of angel. His hair is a little longer than usual, stubble growing out across his sharp jawline. He looks rugged, a little rough around the edges. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As if he can feel your gaze on him, he cracks an eye open, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He has a pillow crease across his skin, cheek flushed pink with a dusty blush.

“You okay, baby?”

His voice is hoarse and all sleep heavy, rumbling through you like gentle summer thunder.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, trying to fight back tears. “I’m so tired, Buck. So fucking tired.”

“But you can’t sleep?”

He pulls you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and stroking your hair soothingly.

“It’s like my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake,” you mumble into his bare skin. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing makes sense,” he chuckles lowly. “Nothing in this goddamn world makes sense. Except for me and you.”

Bucky spins you in his arms so your back is to his chest, bodies pressed together without an inch of space between you. Pressing a kiss into your neck, he starts mumbling.

“You just need to turn your brain off, baby. I know it’s easier said than done… so I’m gonna help you. All you need to do is focus on my voice, on my touch. Focus your attention on my hands on you, my lips on your skin. The heat of my body against yours.”

He skims his fingers down your side, gripping at your hips to ground you. He’s still kissing your neck, nipping occasionally to vary the sensation. He slips a hand down your front, cupping you over your underwear as you close your eyes, breathing him in. He smells like salt water and sea air and gasoline and home.

You cant your hips into his touch, trying to get him where you want him. Bucky takes the hint, slipping his hand into your panties and running a finger through your wetness. You groan, throwing your head back into his solid shoulder.

“Just switch off, honey baby. Give in to me.”

Bucky glides a finger into you, crooking it towards him. His palm hits your clit and you keen, whining all high pitched and breathy. His hips buck into your backside at the sound, and he chuckles.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet. Sweetest girl in the world.”

He adds another finger, using his thumb to circle your clit in precise, firm motions. You’re writhing against the mattress like a serpent, unable to stay still as Bucky takes you apart.

“Come for me, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. That’s it, atta girl… ride my hand, take what you need. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your entire body tightens up as you reach your climax, back arching away from Bucky as he continues to curl his fingers. He pulls you close, anchors you to him as you moan and shudder.

Your head is empty, besides the thought of your soulmate. All you can think about is Bucky.

Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.

You take a stuttered inhale as you try to catch your breath, beads of sweat dripping down your back.

“You okay?”

He’s muttering into your shoulder, mouth never leaving your skin. You nod, linking your fingers with his where they rest on your waist.

“You didn’t come,” you whisper, leaning your head back into Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, chuckling lowly.

“This wasn’t about me,” he reassures. “It’s all about you, baby. Always is.”

The two of you breathe together for a little while, allowing you to come down from your high. Eventually, Bucky taps your thigh, nudging you up.

“Come on, honey. Get up and use the bathroom, and then we’ll sleep for the next week.”

You do as he says, crawling back into bed with limbs that feel like jelly.

“How you feelin’?” he asks as he pulls you into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“Fucking fantastic.”

He laughs and you can’t help but laugh too, as if by reflex.

“Yeah? No more racing thoughts in that pretty head of yours?”

“None. All I can think about is how much I want to sleep right now.”

Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, Bucky tightens his arms around you.

“Then sleep, baby.”

You snuggle into your soulmates side, relaxing into the mattress.

“I love you,” you mumble into his skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs back. “Sweet dreams, honey girl.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you wake, you can’t tell if you’ve slept for five minutes or five days.

The sheets are crumpled, linen strewn across the bed as the pillows sit completely unmoved at the headboard. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, warming your skin that’s exposed to the sea soaked breeze.

You reach over to the other side of the mattress, seeking Bucky’s warmth. You’re met with empty space, and the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

The man in question is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sun kissed. His boxers are hugging his thighs just right, and you repress the urge to crawl over and sink your teeth into the muscle. Later.

“Morning or afternoon?” You croak out, watching as he softly smiles at your sleep addled voice.

“Morning. Eleven twenty four.”

You stretch your arms above your head, unaware of the way Bucky’s eyes are glued to your bare stomach.

“You want breakfast, or have you eaten?”

“Haven’t eaten yet. Was waiting for you.”

You slide down to the end of the bed where Bucky meets you, leaning down to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Have you been awake long?”

He shakes his head, stealing another kiss.

“Ten minutes or so.”

“How’d you sleep?”

He moves some hair away from your face gently, the morning affection making you light up inside.

“Like a baby. Don’t think I moved once.”

You laugh, running your fingers over his bare shoulders.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.”

“Me neither. I think we need to start prioritising sleep a little more.”

“It’s just… so hard,” you murmur, rising onto your knees on the bed so you’re face to face. “I don’t ever want to sleep when I have the most handsome man alive in my bed. I can think of many other things I’d rather be doing.”

He groans, chuckling lowly.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll keep you in this bed all day. Won’t let you leave.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Barnes?”

He football tackles you suddenly, both of you falling backwards into the plush sheets. You squeal, caught off guard as his hands squeeze your sides firmly.

“Keep running your mouth and see what happens, angel.”

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, you breathe out a laugh.

“I’m so scared,” you tease, peppering his face with gentle kisses. “Like, quaking in my boots.”

He goes to retort, but is interrupted by the deafening sound of your stomach rumbling.

“If we weren’t about to get noise complaints from the neighbours about that hunger of yours, I would absolutely continue this. But…”

“We need to eat.”

“Yes, we do.”

You peck his cheek before jumping off the bed, stretching as you make your way to the kitchen. Bucky follows you eagerly. Of course he does.

You click the coffee maker on as you spin to face him where he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m about to make you the best pancakes you’ll eat in your entire life, James.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Watch and learn, baby.”

When he doesn’t move, you walk him backwards, pulling out the bar stool from underneath the island.

“You just sit there and look pretty.”

He shakes his head with a smirk as you wink, turning on the stove and grabbing your bowls and utensils. He didn’t ask for a cooking lesson, but you’re about to give him one.

“The trick is to separate the egg whites from the yolks, and whip them. When they’re fluffy, you fold them into your mixture, and it makes the pancakes light and airy and gorgeous. Then you add honey, for extra sweetness.”

He watches you flit around the kitchen as if you’re the sun, bright and warm and radiant. He can’t take his eyes off you for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

Bucky’s blinking back tears, suddenly, as you sway your hips while flipping the pancakes at the stove. He wants to drop to his knees, yell out to a higher power and ask what the hell he did to deserve someone like you. He’ll beg, if he has to, for someone, something, to make sure that he finds you in every universe, in every version of this crazy life.

“I love you,” you beam at him, as if you’ve read his mind. “I love you more than anything.”

Your grin is so blinding, so utterly brilliant that the entire room lights up with it. Your own form of electricity.

“I… I-”

“I know, Buck.”

It gets like this, sometimes. Too overwhelming to put into words. To love someone more than anything, anyone - a love that knows no bounds - is completely indescribable.

So he doesn’t even try. He just nods at you, watching as your eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Will you pour us some coffee while I put these on a plate?”

“Anything you need,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as he squeezes past you to grab the mugs. “Always.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You settle down to eat on the balcony, letting the midday sun warm you both up.

“I brought syrup, but, I also brought this.”

You hold out a plastic tub that contains a dark pink mixture, popping the lid off.

“Try it.”

Bucky sticks his little finger in, putting it in his mouth and sighing in contentment at the taste that coats his tongue.

“Good?”

“So good. What is it?”

“My homemade raspberry and lemon coulis. I make it to go on top of pancakes and waffles - it beats maple syrup any day.”

“You’re a genius.”

“So it’s been said,” you laugh, pouring it over your plate. “Now eat before they go cold.”

“Yes ma’am.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You weren’t lying,” he says when he’s finished. “They were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

You laugh, sliding across to press your side into his.

“There’s a lot more where that came from. I have so many recipes I want you to try.”

“God, I’m so lucky. I have the most perfect soulmate in the world, and she’s a baker. What did I do to deserve you, hmm?”

You lean in to kiss him gently, licking across his lips. He tastes like raspberries and sugar and eight hours of sleep.

You’re sat in comfortable silence when your phone rings, startling you both.

“Hello?”

“Babe?”

“Lacie?”

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

You smile instantly, and Bucky does too, by default.

“Your Mom called me and told me about your Dad. She’s been keeping me updated over text. How are you guys holding up?”

“We’re good, honestly. It was a little touch and go at first, but now… we’re okay. All of us.”

“Good. I love you guys.”

“Love you too. So much.”

She sighs all deep and wistful, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What’s up, Lace?”

“Well… I’m calling with a proposition. And I feel like you’re gonna say no, but your Mom already told me that I had to force you to do it, so.”

“Oh, God.”

“Come on a double date with me and Cameron tonight. Come for dinner and drinks with us.”

You take a deep breath, looking over at Bucky. He nods in agreement, encouraging you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

Her surprise is undeniable, the octave of her voice rising ever higher.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in too long, and it’ll be good for me to meet Cameron, finally. Plus, we’re visiting my Dad this afternoon, so we have a free evening.”

“Oh my God, I am so excited! Okay, I’ll text you the address of where we’re eating. Cam knows so much about you already, he can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait to meet Bucky… again? I mean I’ve met him before, but not as your soulmate.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “It’ll be good for everyone to get… reacquainted.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright, Lace. We’ve gotta get ready to visit my Dad, but I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, babe. I am so excited. See you then!”

She puts the phone down, and you can almost picture the cloud of perfume and pressed powder that’s about to rain down on her bedroom. You wish you were there to watch it happen, like old times.

“Our first double date, huh?”

“It’ll be our last if you don’t behave,” you tease, leaning in to peck Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You laugh into his mouth, running your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It’s the longest you’ve seen it, and it’s starting to curl all cute and soft and wispy.

“Come on. Let’s go see my Dad, and then spend hours mentally preparing ourselves for Storm Lacie.”

“I always liked her. Seemed good for you.”

“She is. She’s the best.”

Bucky wraps a strong arm around your shoulder as you swing your legs over his lap, burying yourself in his bare chest.

“You nervous?” he asks into your temple.

“A little, weirdly. Meeting each others soulmate is the kind of thing we’d talk about when we were kids. And now we’re doing it.”

“We can handle it,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing patterns into your arm. “We can handle anything, you and I.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, honey girl. Anything.”

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[hazymoonlinh]

Aventurine....my love ❤

(Aventurine x gn!reader)

Let the light in.

You told him that one day and he was confused. “What light ?” But you didn’t answer. Instead you smiled at him so sweetly.

He has always loved your smile. It’s so genuine, something he wouldn’t be able to show.

“Please smile more for me.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Each night he fallen to despair, cry in his sleep, you were always there to trace circles on his skin, let him burry himself in the warmth of your embrace.

You slowly break down his wall, take off his mask, teach him to rely on others more. “No need to fake your smile around me. No need to hold yourself together when you with me. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything.” You cupped his face gently.

“You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.” Oh you tell him that every day. At first he chuckled and smirked. But now he blushed with tears in his eyes.

Aventurine might look like a playboy, but don’t let that fool you. The only one he wants to touch and make love to is only you. But he is scared, he needs to heal. Would you be disgusted if you find out about his past ? Would you leave him if you know his body was used ?

But that night you hold him so tight to ease his worries, you were patient, you cared. You traced every scar and asked if it’s hurt.

“I can wait for you. Because the one I love is you. Not for your body.”

Sometimes he wonder if you’re an angel sends by the heavens? He don’t believe in god, since they have done nothing to help him. Your touch feels like feathers, your voice sounds ethereal. And your gaze...

"Please never change the way you look at me. Please….” He begs and pleaded

“It’s the same with telling me to never stop loving you right? If I ever changed heart, that is not me.”

When he finally ready, you kissed him so tenderly that makes his heart melt. You worship his body, let him taste the sweetness of love making, you kiss his mark, his scar, makes him cry out of happiness. And that’s when he can’t go back. He craves you like an unquenchable thirst.

And that when he thinks.

Are you a devil ? Because he has fallen, fallen deep into love. He can’t live without you.

He has let the light in. He has finally realized. He has opened his heart for you. Take great care of it, don’t break it, will you?

“I love you. Please never stop loving me.”

“Of course.”

Oh what have you done to him. He’s nothing but a fool to your love.

(Hearing Lana playlist while writing this :)) I’m high.)

Might write more about him or maybe Boothill or Sunday idk

[itneverendshere]

shy!sweetheart!reader being secretly a metalhead (enjoying bands like falling in reverse and bad omens). rafe finding out like 🤨

this was ridiculously cute to write😌 and i felt like it feet pogue!bartender!reader's universe 100% so i did it.....if it wasn't want you wanted IM SORRY but it's canon in my head and my fingers worked really fast to write this down lmao. thank you for the request!!🩵🫂

you're in the walls that i made - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was get home, toss on your favorite oversized hoodie, and dive into a YouTube rabbit hole of random videos on your phone.

Rafe, of course, was your ride—like usual. He’d somehow appointed himself as your unofficial chauffeur after shifts, and you weren’t exactly complaining. You were saving up for a car, and you were almost there, only a few more weeks and you’d have your baby.

But it was nice to have a reliable ride, even if it came with his very questionable music taste.

"Alright, let's go," Rafe said, pulling up in his shiny black truck as you slid into the passenger seat.

The smell of leather and cologne hit you immediately, as did the unmistakable thumping bass of whatever rap song he had blasting. The lyrics were, as usual, about women, money, and something about getting high on a yacht. You made a face without even realizing it—like you did every time.

"What's that look for?" Rafe smirked, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the parking lot.

You shrugged, hoping he’d let it slide. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to let anything slide. "Nah, you do that every time I play my music.”

You bit your lip, wondering if he thought you were a snob now. “What? No I don’t.”

He shot you a side-eye, his smirk widening as he pressed a little harder on the gas. "You got somethin' better on your playlist?"

It wasn’t like you were embarrassed. You just didn’t think Rafe, with his expensive taste and rich boy vibes, would get it. But before you could answer, the radio cut in between songs with an ad, and you almost jumped in your seat.

“On September 6th, for one night only, Bad Omens will be performing live at the Greyhall venue on the mainland! Get your tickets now before they sell out!”

Your heart raced. Bad Omens. They were one of your favorite bands, and they were going to be right there—just a ferry ride away. You stared at the radio, gripping the sides of the seat like you were about to take off.

"Wait, what?" You said under your breath, but loud enough that Rafe noticed.

He furrowed his brow, glancing between you and the road. "You okay? What's up?"

You bit your lip, feeling the excitement rising inside you and knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t afford concert tickets, let alone the ferry and everything else that came with it. But still, you couldn’t help the tiny squeak of frustration that escaped.

"It’s nothing. Just…one of my favorite bands is playing."

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. "Favorite bands?" His voice lilted with surprise. "You never told me you had a favorite band. Wait—what band?"

You fidgeted in your seat, the seatbelt suddenly feeling too tight. "Bad Omens."

He blinked. "Who?"

Of course. You sighed. "They're a metalcore band. Like heavy, but not just noise. They actually sing. And scream. It’s complicated."

Rafe's expression was priceless—like you just told him you were secretly a wizard or something.

"Metalcore?" He repeated, testing the word,"Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you like that screamo stuff?"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You? The girl who got him by the balls since he laid his eyes on you? The quiet, sweet, always-put-together girl he drove home after work, into metalcore? It was like you just told him you had a secret double life.

You shrugged, feeling yourself blush a little. "It’s not just screamo. There's a lot more to it. It's deep."

“Screamo stuff,” he repeated, trying to wrap his head around it. His eyes moved from the road back to you, still processing. You were full of surprises, and every time he learned something new about you, it knocked him off his feet. He wasn’t used to it. Most girls he’d been with were pretty predictable—into the same stuff, liked the same fancy dinners, designer bags, the whole kook lifestyle. And then there was you.

You still sounded a little defensive, your fingers messing with the hem of your shirt. “I swear, there’s actual singing and meaning behind the lyrics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, still smirking, but he wasn’t laughing at you. He was actually impressed. You really didn’t care what anyone thought, did you? He couldn’t even pretend to understand the music, but it wasn’t just that—it was everything about you that threw him off in the best way.

"So that’s why you’re always making faces at my music? ‘Cause it’s not—what, hardcore enough for you?"

You couldn’t help but giggle. "I mean yeah, kinda." You glanced over at him, like you were waiting for him to crack a joke or say something stupid, but all he could do was stare at you like you’d just become ten times more interesting. “What, I don’t look like someone who’d enjoy heavy music?”

He laughed, shaking his head.  “I would've never guessed. You’re always so quiet. Sweet. I thought you’d be into, I don’t know, something soft and cute. You look like you’d be into Taylor Swift, not dudes screaming about whatever it is they scream about.”

You let out a small laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He loved that laugh. “Well, I do like Taylor Swift. But, you know, metal is just...it hits different.”

Rafe’s face went from shock to something else, like he was putting pieces together in his head. "Wait, that explains so much. Every time I put on something with a chill beat, you look like you’re dying inside."

"I just have different taste," you admitted.

"Damn, never thought I’d see the day," he muttered, more to himself. “So, this band of yours—Bad Omens—where they playing?"

"Greyhall in September,” you said quietly. "But it’s fine. I can’t afford to go."

He frowned. "The hell you can’t. Just get the tickets."

You blinked at him. "I can’t, Rafe. They’re probably expensive, and I’ve got rent and bills. Y’know, real life stuff?"

He furrowed his brow, like the concept of not being able to afford something was completely foreign to him. “It’s just tickets. How much could they be?”

"Probably more than I make in a week. Plus the ferry, the drinks, food—it's not that simple."

He glanced at you, like he was doing the math in his head. The guy lived in a world where nothing was “that simple” because everything was already done for him. He didn’t have to think about rent or ferry costs or budgeting for groceries. That wasn’t Rafe’s reality, and for a second, you could see it in his eyes—he forgot that your world wasn’t his.

"Alright," he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, "I’ll get them."

"What?"

"I’ll get the tickets," he repeated, more casual this time, like it was the easiest solution in the world. "You wanna see them, right? So I’ll buy the tickets."

Your mouth fell open. "Rafe, no. You can’t just—"

He looked at you like you’d just said something offensive. "I can.”

"No, you’re not buying me concert tickets. That’s ridiculous."

He rolled his eyes, acting like it was no big deal. “I’ve spent more on dumber shit. Consider it an early birthday gift. Or whatever."

“Do you even know when my birthday is?”

He didn’t even miss a beat, "October 8th” he said, his voice so smooth and confident that it caught you off guard.

Your jaw dropped a little, and you stared at him. "Wait—how do you know that?"

He shrugged casually, but he was proud of himself. "What, you think I don’t pay attention to you?”

When it came to you, he was locked in. Every detail, every little thing you mentioned, he was soaking it up. He knew. Out of all the random things, that’s what he remembered. You never told him outright; maybe it came up once in a passing conversation, weeks ago, buried under a million other details about work or life or whatever. And yet, here he was, dropping the exact date like it was nothing. You tried to play it cool, but inside, your brain was short-circuiting. Rafe Cameron knows my birthday. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, that smirk still glued to his face. He was being way too natural about the whole thing.

“Okay,” You snapped out of it, “You’re not buying me tickets, Rafe,” you warned him, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “Seriously, I can’t let you do that.”

He barely glanced at you, too busy making a smooth turn, “You act like I just offered to buy you a house. It’s a couple of tickets, not that big of a deal.”

“To you!” You huffed, leaning back in the seat. “It’s a big deal to me. I’m not just gonna let you drop money like that. For what? For a concert that you’re not even going to?”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, which only fueled your frustration. He thought this was funny.

“It’s just tickets,” he repeated, like that was going to wear you down. “Look, if it bothers you that much, you can pay me back. And I can go with you”

You felt your heart do this weird little somersault, like it didn’t know whether to panic or be excited.

What the hell was he talking about.

Rafe Cameron, Mr. Country Club, wanted to go to a metalcore concert with you?

Your head was spinning. He doesn't even know the band, you thought, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you. But judging by the way he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he wasn’t joking.

“You’re gonna come with me to a Bad Omens concert?” Your voice came out more skeptical than you intended, but could he blame you. The thought of Rafe at a concert full of screaming fans and heavy breakdowns was honestly hilarious.

He shrugged, eyes still on the road, totally unfazed. “Yeah, why not? Could be fun.”

Fun? FUN? You were genuinely struggling to picture him, in his usual attire, khaki shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo, at a venue packed with sweaty metalheads. You almost wanted to laugh, but then again, he was doing this for you. He was willing to put up with a night of music he definitely didn’t like, just so you could see one of your favorite bands. That meant something.

You scoffed. “How would I pay you back anyway? With what? My tips from bartending at the country club? Gonna take me six months to pay off Bad Omens tickets.”

He glanced over, eyebrow raised, like he was sizing you up. “You’re seriously gonna pass up the chance to see one of your favorite bands because you’re too proud to let me help?”

You bit your lip, torn between how much you wanted to see them live and how uncomfortable it felt to accept help from someone like Rafe. He was used to throwing money around—his daddy’s money, no less—and you... well, you weren’t like that. You’d grown up on the other side of the island, working your ass off to afford anything. 

The idea of someone just buying something for you? It made you feel weird. Like a sell-out.

“It’s not about a couple bucks. It’s about you doing this because you feel like you have to or something.”

His jaw tightened just slightly, and he shook his head like you were missing the point completely. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything. I want to do this. There’s a difference.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not letting him off the hook just yet. “Why? Why do you want to do this so bad?”

There it was. That look again. He hesitated, like he was deciding whether to be fully honest or not, then leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again, trying to play it cool.

“Because,” he started, his voice casual but his eyes were giving him away. “This is what friends do. They look out for each other. I’m not letting you miss something you clearly want.”

Saying the word made his chest hurt just a little. Friends. Right. But he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t exactly the relationship type, and everyone knew it. You probably knew it, but when it came to you things were different. And maybe the idea of spending time with you at that concert—just the two of you, no work, no distractions—sounded like a dream. How could he say that without looking like an idiot? Or worse, like a an asshole trying to buy his way into your life.

“Rafe, be serious,” you sighed. “I don’t like feeling like I owe someone.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he said quickly, a little sharper this time. He seemed almost offended. “Why do you keep acting like this is some big favor? I’m not holding it over your head or anythin’. I just want you to go to the concert and have a good time. Is that so hard to accept?”

You did want to go. Badly. But accepting help like this wasn’t your style, especially not from Rafe, who lived in a completely different world. And yet you could feel how much he genuinely wanted you to say yes.

 “I’m being realistic.”

Rafe snorted. “Realistic? You’re being stubborn as hell.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are,” he cut you off, pulling into a stop at the light and turning his whole body toward you. His eyes were locked on yours now, serious but still with that hint of playful annoyance. “Look, I get it. Fine. You want to go to the concert. I’m offering to make it happen. End of story.”

He was used to getting what he wanted, and, right now, what he wanted was for you to take these tickets.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

He hesitated for half a second. Then that smirk of his came back, though it felt different. “Because I like seeing you excited about something. You’ve been dragging your feet every time I see you, and now, you hear some band’s coming to town, and you light up like it’s Christmas. You think I’m gonna let you miss that over a couple bucks?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. He was always so sincere. And it threw you off completely. Rafe was a lot of things to a lot of people—cocky, reckless, arrogant—but he wasn’t usually thoughtful. Not to them. Not like this. You seemed to be the only one who saw the good in him.

But you still weren’t giving in. “Rafe... it’s just weird, okay? I don’t want it to be like you’re doing me a favor.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Fine. Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like— I’m investing in something I wanna see. You freaking out at this concert, screaming your head off, losing your voice for two days—that’s entertainment.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re difficult,” he shot back, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’m not backing down, so you might as well just say thank you and take the tickets.”

“Or what?” you challenged, but your voice was softening.

“Or I’ll buy the tickets, show up at your door, and force you to go.”

You blinked. “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned. “Try me. C’mon,” he pushed, sensing you were caving. “You work your ass off at that club, always taking care of everyone else. For once, just let someone take care of you.”

Your breath hitched at that. He wasn’t just being cocky or trying to win an argument anymore. He meant it. You looked out the window, chewing on your lip. This was new, this was all so new to you it felt a little pathetic with how hard your heart was racing. There was a moment of silence, like you were both just waiting for the other to blink first.

Finally, you sighed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine. Buy the stupid tickets. But don’t think I’m not paying you back. I’ll find a way.”

He just laughed, clearly satisfied with his victory. “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Rafe. You’re the best friend ever.’”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help smiling a little. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cameron.”

As the light turned green and he started driving again, you let out a long breath, not knowing why you were giving up so easily. There was this strange warmth in your chest, knowing he cared enough to go toe-to-toe with you over something as small as a concert.

“Hey, for the record,” Rafe said after a moment, glancing over at you. “I’d do it again. Just so you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Fight me over tickets?”

He grinned, looking back at the road. “Nah. Fight you over anything, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but you were beaming like an idiot now. You felt lighter. “Just don’t think this means I’m letting you pick the music on the way there.”

“Deal,” he said, laughing as he leaned back in his seat, clearly proud of himself. “But don’t get too used to it. Next time, it’s back to rap and yachts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As he drove, you couldn’t help but peek over at him, catching the way his jawline tensed and relaxed, the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel like he was still buzzing from the conversation.

And yeah, maybe you’d heard the rumors surrounding him, believed them a little before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

All the while Rafe felt like he’d just won the lottery. You had no idea how hard he was falling for you, piece by piece. Every small detail about you made him fall harder, and it scared the hell out of him how much he cared. But he couldn’t stop now.

Truth was, he didn’t want to.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike." 

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne. 

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.” 

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.” 

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression. 

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you,  just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away. 

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?” 

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

 "You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.”

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

[heartsforvin]

yn walks in on vinnie jerking off and finishes him off

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

LOVE THIS IDEAAAAA !!! decided to switch up the pairings thought it’d make it more fun , i hope you enjoy <33

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!bestfriend!reader

warnings; smut, male masturbation, oral (m receiving), use of pet names, bit of dirty talk, praising

summary; you walk in on vinnie on accident, but decide to make use of an awkward situation

vinnie had texted you about a half hour ago asking if you’d want to go to his place to hang out.

you agreed and told him you’d be there within the hour. you put on a playlist and started getting ready.

you and vinnie had been friends for awhile now, having met at a party a few months back. vinnie didn’t go to parties much, but his friends had dragged him out that night.

you and vinnie had a mutual friend, thus leading up to the both of you meeting.

as time went on you two got to know each other and soon your friendship grew.

finishing up your makeup, you quickly texted vinnie that you were on your way over.

vinnie lived pretty close to you so it only took about ten minutes for you to get to his apartment.

“vin, i’m here!” you shouted as you walked into your best friends apartment. “hi, hera.” you say as you crouch down to pet the cat.

hera purrs as you scratch behind her ear, after a moment you stand and walk over to vinnie’s bedroom door.

you knock quickly before opening the door. “hey vinnie hey, i’m-fuck, y/n.” vinnie scrambles to put a blanket over his waist.

your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you just realized what you caught your best friend doing.

it was nothing bad, hell if anything it was normal. vinnie sits up and covers his crotch with his hands, even if he’s got a blanket over him.

“need some help?” you don’t know where the confidence to ask such question.

you rarely thought of vinnie in that way, only a handful of times but you had quickly shoved those down.

he’s your friend, friends don’t think of each other like that, and they definitely don’t ask if they need help with the prominent boner under a blanket.

vinnie shifted his gaze between you and something else, not wanting to look you in the eyes. he’s thought about you in that way once, but felt disgusted in himself and never did again.

right now though, with his cock begging to be touched, he can’t help but think about what you’d look like with your lips around him.

“you wanna help me, pretty girl?” vinnie’s voice is deep and low as he asks you. “want your pretty mouth wrapped around me, don’t you?”

nodding your head, you quickly jump onto vinnie’s bed and sit with your ass against your heels.

vinnie smirks as he watches your eyes dart from his to the blanket. you’re unsure of what you want to do first.

without another second to waste, you quickly throw the blanket off him and watch as his cock sits up and waits for you.

“not gonna suck itself now, is it sweetheart?” vinnie teases, placing his hand on your thigh.

your breath hitches at the hand placement, you can’t believe you’re doing this right now. you’ve had fantasies about vinnie before, but never thought it’d happen.

you feel vinnie squeeze the soft plush of your thigh and that gives you all the courage you need to push away any thoughts that might tell you this is wrong.

“go on, sweet girl,” vinnie encourages you. “fuck yeah, that’s it.” he moans out once your hand wraps around him.

your movements start slow, you watch as the last bits of precum leave his tip as he lulls his head back once again.

“so good for me, baby,” he breathes out. you look up at him through your lashes, smile on your face as you continue your movements.

you move your hand a bit faster and vinnie instinctively bucks his hips at the feeling of your hand around him.

“s-shit baby, i’m gonna-“ vinnie’s cut off once he feels your mouth around him. he lulls his head forward to look at you and the sight almost makes him cum right there.

you aren’t able to fit all of him in your mouth so you wrap your hand around the rest of his length.

“filthy girl likes havin’ my cock down her throat, doesn’t she?” you moan around him, batting your eyes at him so it makes him go crazier.

“yeah i knew you wanted this,” vinnie says as he grabs your hair and makes a makeshift ponytail. “always thought about you, about us like this.”

you can’t help but squeeze your legs together at the thought of you and vinnie together. it’s happening right now but you still can’t believe it.

your movements fasten as the words leave his mouth, and soon you can’t help but think of all the fantasies you’ve thought about that include vinnie.

“fuck baby, yeah, keep doin’ that.” vinnie moans out as you circle your tongue over his tip.

vinnie bucks his hips so his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. “mm, you like that?”

nodding, vinnie does it again, making your eyes roll back. “good girl, such a good girl for me.” he praises.

the throb in between your legs doesn’t fade as he praises you, if anything it becomes more intense.

with your mouth on him and vinnie’s occasional thrusting, you can tell he’s close. “baby, i’m gonna cum,” he warns. “gonna let me cum down that pretty throat?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, vinnie feels you moan against him which makes his hips buck once again at the vibration.

you try your best to nod but it doesn’t work out but vinnie gets the message.

“come on pretty, make me cum.” he tells you, watching you bob up and down on his cock.

“yeah, yeah that’s it. be a good girl for me, come on.” vinnie pushes you even further and soon you can feel the hot liquid run down your throat.

you sit up back on your heels, facing your best friend as he watches you swallow. he smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

you look at him like he’s the prettiest boy you’ve seen. your mind is still foggy and you’re definitely not thinking things you should be thinking about, but you don’t care.

“want me to help you out now?” vinnie asks, and you blush, not realizing it was that obvious.

you nod and vinnie leans in to kiss you, and you gladly meet him halfway.

hiii i hope you all liked this ! i feel like the ending is rushed but oh well 🥲

tags: @cosmicanakin , @lyndys , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @st4rswrld , @laylasbunbunny , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @kayleiggh , @slvthrs , @lovingsturniolo , @louloulemons-blog , @hallecarey1 , @supabhad , @violet0182 , @

[hnychn]

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME

SUMMARY — If there is anything that is universally acknowledged to be wholly true and incontestable, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything in the world. But does she know that?

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i got into a huge argument with my father a while back and it’s been weighing on my conscience. this series is largely based on our relationship and it’s been so therapeutic to write everything out and indirectly give myself an ending i want. the series isn’t complete, if anything, it’s no where near done. i want to make sure everything is perfect before i even think about posting the first chapter. its been so long since i’ve felt this strong need to write and i forgot how much of a beautiful feeling it is. everywhere i look and everything i see gives me so much inspiration for this series. but for now, here’s a little sneak peak of my new child.

(i am him as he is me spotify playlist)

SERIES WARNINGS — heavy religious themes, female reader, satosugu, heavy angst, child abuse, childhood neglect, reader is a brat in the beginning, reader is assumed to be a person of color, gojo’s canon age doesn’t make sense, so everyone is aged up by a couple years, etc.

TOTAL WORD COUNT — tbd…

BEFORE YOU READ — the reader is mentioned to be a third year at jujutsu tech, and i completely understand the ages and time line don’t add up, but for the sake of creativity, let’s all just pretend it makes sense and ignore the age inconsistencies. <33 thank you!! <33

PREVIEW —

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas and the sweltering humidity of the summer air marked the beginning of summer and the end of… everything. Satoru could feel the material of his pants begin to stick to his legs the longer he sat on the rotting wooden bench. The train tracks before him were rusted and old; they had weathered the storm of time and had the marks to prove it. These tracks were the end. The led you to the beginning. All Satoru had to do was wait.

—

“Maybe it was because I knew she would always come back to me. Maybe I was testing her love for me. Maybe I wanted to push her away before she pushed me away.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“There’s a lot of regret.”

Satoru could still feel the weight of that nostalgic love and regret in his stomach. It has buried itself so deep within him, he’s hardly sure anything would make it go away. The woman next to him looks different now; youthful, free. Satoru wants that. But does he deserve it?

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME [MASTERLIST]

— CHAPTER ONE: “He Doesn’t Know I Learned it From Him.”

Gojo Satoru, in all aspects, is a God reborn. He holds the world and its universes in the palm of his flaming hand; unknowingly burning everything he holds dear.

— CHAPTER TWO: “I Was a Girl Gulping a Woman’s Grief.”

With an emotionally distant mother and a father plagued with a god complex, there weren’t many people you could look up to. maybe, you have to look down.

— CHAPTER THREE: “Do You Believe Me When I Tell You I’m Trying to be Better?”

With tensions at an all-time high, it’s hard to ignore what has gone neglected for so long. Dams are broken and feelings are hurt, but if there’s one thing everyone knows, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything. But does she know that?

— CHAPTER FOUR: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

There is nothing more heroic than the sacrifices made by a mother. But what is born of those sacrifices made? Virtue? Honour? Strength? You knew the answer to that question all too well: Guilt.

— CHAPTER FIVE: “Desperation Sits Heavy on my Tongue.”

You and your father are more alike than either of you are led to believe. He doesn’t reach. You don’t beg. Where does the tension snap?

— CHAPTER SIX: “Through Heaven and Earth, I Alone am the Honoured One.”

Hymns were sung at his birth and prophecies were written for his future, in all aspects, Gojo Satoru was a god reborn. But who is a God to a little girl searching for her father?

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream

Summary: "So gorgeous. The prettiest angel for me. I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening? I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying? I can’t believe she’s marrying me. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived."

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 2: Homecoming Daydream

A small playlist to listen to while reading this. Hope you guys will enjoy this just as much as myself!

Toto blinked slowly as the sunlight hit his face. It didn’t burn down like before. During the early afternoon, the light had taken on a softer glow, bathing everything in delicate golden hues. It was almost time, but Toto was getting a little impatient. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Then he felt a hand patting him on the back.

“It’s gonna be alright, Wolff.”

“I know Lewis. Yet, I still doubt it. When life is too good there will always be something unexpected in the foreseeable future.” 

Toto sighed. 

“You’re worried too much! Not with the whole being selfish story again.”

“You don’t know it, Lew. She is still in her fruitful youth, she has a whole future ahead. What she really needs is to be with someone her age, someone to grow old with her, to be with her in this lifetime, to hold her hand as her best friend and soulmate, not someone who is just 1 year younger than her dad. I don’t even understand why did she choose to be with me in the first place not to mention accept my proposal. I’m scared Lew! What if she’s going to change her mind?”

“Don’t be scared. You don’t see the way she looks at you, do you? That woman is head over heels for you, as you for her. I don’t see why you shouldn’t be a little selfish now.“

Toto looked at his best man with a frown. 

„You really think so?“

„I do.“

They were quiet for a long minute before Lewis cleared his throat and nodded at the clock on the wall. 

„Better get ready, Toto. It’s almost time.“

„Yeah.“

Toto took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the material in front of him. The new suit. It had been a while. With a determined nod, he pulled it out of the bag and put it on. The dark fabric felt heavy and form-fitting, but not in a bad way. He tugged the suit into place and turned to face his friend.

„How do I look?” Lewis rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Like an old man.”

“Thanks. Should have chosen George or Nico to be my best man today.” He joked.

“Shut up, Wolff. You did not say that.” Lewis rolled his eyes. 

Toto nodded and took one last look in the mirror. He barely recognised the man in reflection. He’d gotten much older, of course, but still quite young fit for a man his age. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed out the suit and turned back around. 

“You sure you got the rings? Not Roscoe has it, right?”

Y/n chuckled quietly as everyone around her broke out in nervous chatter at the announcement of the time, shuffling around the room in a sudden frenzy. Her auntie was the worst, trading in her champagne glass for flowers, running to the other side of the room, before putting down the flowers again and downing her champagne in one go. 

​​„Are you okay, Aunt Lana?“ Y/n asked from her chair by the window. She had wisely chosen that spot to stay out of everyone’s way.

„Am I okay? I’m a nervous wreck. Are you okay, honey bee? You’re the one getting married today.“

„I know.“

„Then why are you so… so calm?“ 

Y/n shrugged and smiled to herself.

„I don’t know. I just… there’s nothing to be nervous about. I love him. I know that I want to be with him for the rest of my life.“

Her aunt sighed and gave her a warm smile. Then she abandoned her drink to embrace her niece in soft arms and a cloud of familiar bergamot perfume. 

„Oh, honey bee. I’m so happy for you.“

Y/n returned the hug with a chuckle. 

„Thanks, Aunt Lana. I’m happy too.“

When they pulled back, her aunt had tears in her eyes, which she dapped at with a tissue, careful not to smudge her make-up. Then she sighed again and laughed. 

„I still can’t believe you’re marrying an Austrian. And this Austrian, no less. I guess we let you watch too many Hollywood movies when you were younger.“

Y/n grinned and pinched her aunt playfully on the arm.

„Probably.“

„Before I forget, I brought this for you, honey bee. It was your grandmother’s and I wanted to give it to you for the ceremony. You know, something old, something borrowed and…“

„…something blue“, Y/n murmured softly, incredibly touched by the sweet gesture. „I didn’t know people actually did that.“

Aunt Lana shrugged and grinned, as she clasped the bracelet around Y/n’s wrist.

„Can’t hurt, can it? Plus it’ll look great with your dress.“

They hugged again.

“I love you, Aunt Lana. You have always been there for me, even when no one really wanted me in the first place, not even my mom. Thank you, for being my mom, and my best friend for all those years.”

„I know, I love you too and I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Except for now, because we’re going to go downstairs and make sure your husband-to-be doesn’t tear down the building, waiting for you.“

With that the bridal team got to work, helping Y/n into her wedding gown. A simple, but elegant square-neck silk dress that fit her like a glove. The girls from the make-up team had helped her with the hair and make-up before, but she had kept it light on purpose. It was still late summer in the south of France and she didn’t want to sweat through layers of foundation on her skin. 

„You look incredible. Your husband is going to drop dead, Y/n.“ her best friend said. 

“I certainly hope not. Still need him to stay alive for a while longer.”

“Either way. It’s time to finally make an honest woman out of you.”

Toto took a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time today as he looked around, filling his lungs with the warm summer air that reminded him so much of the very first time he’d been here. The backyard of the chateau looked beautiful and decorated with lots of greeneries, roses and hydrangeas, her favourite flowers, of course. 

And after today, he would finally be her husband. With barely contained excitement, he hoped wasn’t entirely obvious to everyone around him, he took his place at the front of the altar. Fred grinned at him as he approached. They’d asked him to officiate the wedding and Fred had jumped at the opportunity, without hesitation. 

„Well well well, if it isn’t the blushing groom to be. How are you holding up, old man?“

“Clearly, I’m not the only old man here today.” Toto rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Never been better.” He added. 

„No cold feet?“

„None.“

„Good. Although maybe you could use a little cooling off since you barely made it through one night without your woman.“

Lewis snorted as he took his place as best man next to Toto, who turned pink all the way up to his ears.

„I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really? So who did we have to hunt down last night for a little rendezvous with Y/n? FYI, Sebastian was going to report a missing case last night when we went to check on you.” 

Luckily Fred spoke low enough now that the guests were gathering. 

Toto cleared his throat and took another breath. Everything is gonna be alright. From one side of the garden, the full notes of the soft melody of “Lover” filled the air. (Who can possibly say no to “Lover” by TS in a wedding)

At that moment, he caught sight of the love of his life. Walking down the aisle, dressed all in white. Just for him. 

Christ. Toto let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sent God all the best whispers despite not fully being a Christian himself. 

He’d impatiently waited for this day for months on end, even pictured this very moment countless times. Still, the image hit him with the force of a semi-truck to the chest. Toto was surprised he didn’t collapse where he stood. He must’ve at least swayed a bit, because he could feel Lewis’ hand on his shoulder steadying him. But despite his body’s wavering, he couldn’t tear his eyes off Y/n. Not even when he heard a low whistle of appreciation behind him. His brain had gone into shock, only able to form one single thought at a time. 

So gorgeous.

The prettiest angel for me. 

I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening?

I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying?

I can’t believe she’s marrying me. 

I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived.

The words, though swirling within his mind, failed to reflect the intensity of his emotions. The love he felt wasn't just confined to his heart; it permeated every fibre of his being, almost as if it were ingrained in his very essence. It lay dormant, awaiting the moment when he would finally encounter her, at which point it would awaken and alter the course of his life forever.

This affection transcended mere sentiment; it was a powerful force, an undeniable truth coursing through his veins with each heartbeat. He sensed it in the tightening of his chest upon her entry, almost so much that he felt like his chest was going to explode. This was the moment that he swore he would treasure it for this lifetime. Hell, he will even have it imprinted in his mind for the next life, even. 

And just like that, she suddenly stood in front of him, glowing and happy, looking so radiant, it was almost like staring directly into the sun – if that were a pleasant activity. Toto blinked, against his will, and once again noticed the moisture that escaped his eyes. He wiped at his face absent-mindedly, causing a chuckle to bubble up from Y/n’s chest, shaking her body with laughter as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

„Hey“, he whispered hoarsely, reaching out for her.

„Hi“, she whispered back, placing her warm hand in his. 

Finally.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter nine

summary: you catch up with an old friend and luca makes you dinner.

warnings: fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (songs mentioned in chapter are in this playlist!)

a/n: i've always pictured mathilde & jesper as the chalamet siblings AND astrid is in fact played by rina sawayama i don't make the rules (i do). thank you for all comments, reblogs, and screaming at me because we are all obsessed. seriously, it's an honor and i'm just so excited that you all are just as excited as me. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

You spend your first Sunday afternoon without Luca, for the first time in a few weeks, deep cleaning your home. Between your new relationship and your work at the restaurant, you’d found yourself falling behind on chores. But he’d worked the late shift last night, filling in for a cook who called out, which is how you’d ended up with a night and morning of divine alone time. 

With your headphones on, it’s easy to multitask, simultaneously folding clothes while you catch up with your friend, formerly-sister-in-law, over the phone. 

“Anyways, work’s kept me so damn busy that I’ve barely had a moment in my own home but… we are all doing quite alright over here,” she explains, after detailing her travels all across Europe. 

Being a buyer for Nordstrom UK keeps her on the road, or rather, in the sky, at a frequent rate. 

“Well I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear from you. And It’s really good to catch up, Astrid,” you say, smiling to yourself as you finish folding a pile of t-shirts. 

“Well, just because you and Joe didn’t work out doesn’t change anything. You’re still my sister,” she replies, with a small laugh. “We’re family, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t keep a good thing around.”

“Astrid! You know it wasn’t like that,” you protest, though you know it’s all in jest.

“I know,” she sighs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes from all the way to England. “Selfishly, I’m just feeling a bit contrary about it, is all. But enough about me. How are you? How’s everything at the restaurant?”

“It’s been great. I… can’t believe that I have a restaurant,” you answer as you shake your head in disbelief.

“God, I’ve gotta get out there soon. I haven’t stopped thinking about that lumache from my last visit – what was it – last November? Yeah, it’s been too long,” Astrid recalls lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, it really has. Just let me know. You know I’m always up for hosting you,” you agree, hopeful that she’ll come visit soon. 

“Besides work, what else’s new? And don’t tell me you’re still just burying yourself in the restaurant because I don’t want to hear it,” she asks, a curious tone in her voice as she segways from work to 

“Well um…” you trail off, treading lightly over the delicate subject. 

The thing you want to tell her about is Luca, because he is what’s new in your life. His presence in your life is evident – it’s in the pair of sweatpants he tossed in with your laundry that you’re folding now, the spare toothbrush you ‘lent’ him that sits right next to yours, and the way that thinking of him makes your heart race. 

You don’t want to lie to her… but you’re also not sure what the etiquette is either. 

It’s not like this is included in the divorcee handbook you never got in the first place. 

“I’m… sort of seeing someone,” you admit, hesitantly. 

“What?!” she gasps, instantly giddy with excitement. “Yeah, we uh…” you hesitate, testing the waters since she seems excited about it. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, maybe.”

“Shut up! That’s mega! How’d you meet? Tell me everything,” she gushes. 

“Well, he actually came into the restaurant. Kind of became a regular and uh…” you explain, and she can hear the smile in your voice as you do. “He’s great. You’ll love this story, actually. He’s also a chef – a pastry chef. One night after coming in, he left a box of croissants for my staff and a handwritten note inviting me to come to the restaurant he works at. It was very….”

“Romantic. Wow…” Astrid adds, too excited for you as she listens. “And a bold move. Knows what he wants. I like him already.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s really incredible. I swear. He has the patience of a saint, especially as I’ve uh… you know, I’ve been trying to figure this whole… dating after you end your marriage kinda thing,” you continue, chuckling in response to the awkwardness of it all. 

“We were friends actually, for a while. Just friends, which, I know you’ll yell at me about when you see what he looks like. But I think it was good for us, for me, really – to be friends first.”

“Well, now you have to send me a picture,” she requests, even more intrigued as you fiddle with your phone, pulling up a photo you took of Luca the other day. 

You wait a beat. Then another, seeing that the photo has been delivered as Astrid shrieks in your ear. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, mate?!” she practically screams. 

“I know,” you squeal. 

“You are absolutely unbelievable,” she shakes her head, staring at the gorgeous blonde on her screen. “How did you not jump right into bed?!”

“Trust me,” you reply, the room suddenly feeling 5 degrees hotter. “After we agreed to start seeing each other, we didn’t wait very long.”

”Sounds like you have a boyfriend,” Astrid comments smugly, as she waits for your reaction. You have expect yourself to panic, but you don’t as you the words tumble out of your mouth. 

“I… it does sound that way, doesn’t it?” you ask her, your voice soft as you reply. 

“Absolutely, my darling,” Astrid replies, before changing the subject. “Okay, so how’s the sex?!”

“Astrid!” you protest with a laugh. “Do you really want to-?”

“Of fucking bloody course I do! Now spill!” she demands. 

You pause, grinning as your cheeks blush. 

“It’s fucking incredible,” you admit, eliciting a giggle from your friend. 

“Shit, babe,” she sighs, contently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say back, because you’re pretty damn happy too. “Astrid, will you keep this between us? It’s just that it’s all still so new and….” 

You pause. 

“I just don’t want Joe to hear it from anyone but me.” 

“Of course,” she replies, compassionately, in deep understanding.

“What else are sisters for?”

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

You showed up to Luca’s flat uncertain of what to expect, but then he’d pulled you into his home and kissed you like you’d been on his mind all day – and in his defense, you really had. 

“Why don’t you come over Sunday night, then? Let me cook you dinner for a change,” he had suggested as you were figuring out your schedules for the week. 

“You sure you’ll be up for that after working overtime this week?” you’d asked in response. 

“I’ll be alright, love,” he’d answered, like he had unlimited energy when it came to you. 

And even though you’d asked him if you should bring dessert – only to be met with a cheeky comment about you being dessert – you showed up anyway with a matcha basque cheesecake in hand and a deli container filled with a yuzu scented whipped cream to top it with. 

So this is how you find yourself perched on top of Luca’s kitchen island countertop, after having watched his exceptional knife skills for the last thirty. You spend your evening snacking on sliced sourdough bread you’re not sure how he had the time to make, and sip on your glass of red wine while watching him prepare a coq au vin. You swear you’ve got hearts in your eyes when you look at him, watching his muscular, inked forearms flex with how he grips his chef’s knife. As music plays softly in the background, a playlist you can only imagine is the entirety of Luca’s music library put on shuffle, you busy yourself, refilling your wine glass for your second glass of the night. 

“Want another, babe?” you ask him, noticing that he’s on his way to empty as well. 

“Sure. Thank you, my love,” he replies, scooping a handful of chopped carrots up from his cutting board with a bench scraper, depositing them into a small bowl. You watch as Luca picks up his glass of wine and makes his way over to you. 

He hands you the glass, then places a gentle kiss against your lips, a smile spreading across his lips. Luca takes a few steps away so that you can fill his glass again, making a few swift movements to turn the heat down on the gas burner. 

“How was your day?” he asks, while still moving around his kitchen. 

You fill him in on your productive day of chores and catching up with an old friend while Luca listens, busy with removing the pieces of chicken out from the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. By the time Luca’s added hot oil to the pot, followed by the chopped carrots and peeled, halved cipollini onions, you’ve caught him up on the long version of Jesper’s latest love-life updates, since he and Claudio have now decided to make it official. 

“So you used to make this with your mom?” you ask curiously, changing the subject as you watch Luca scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pot. 

He nods in response, stealing a glance your way, his lips turned up into a half smile. 

“Yeah. Most coq au vins can take up to three to four hours, but my mum didn’t have the time,” Luca explains, as you watch him remove the pieces of chicken from out of the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. “But it was important for her… to cook for me… to share that ritual with me when she could.” 

The sound of the wine and cognac mixture hitting the hot pan sizzles throughout Luca’s home, your nose filling with the smell of deglazed caramelized bits. 

“And I spent a lot of time as a kid watching the cooking channel, so while we didn’t exactly spend all Sunday cooking a classic French coq au vin, Jamie Oliver’s did the job quite well,” Luca recalls, sharing a piece of his relationship with food with you. 

“Well, it smells incredible,” you say, as he approaches you once more, this time with a full glass of wine in your hands, ready for him. 

As Luca leans in again, the way he kisses you is much more languid, slow, like time is limitless. You breathe him in, completely enamored with the man that’s kissing you, and before anything too wild can happen, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more. Luca smirks, and you swear he knows the effect he has on you. He presses a quick peck to your lips this time, before taking the glass of wine from your hands and heading back to his post in front of the stovetop. 

“This all goes back in,” he continues, using tongs to add the chicken and pancetta bits back into the simmering pot. “Then we braise it in the oven for about… thirty, forty minutes maybe.” 

You raise your glass of wine to your lips, taking a quick sip of the beaujolais you’re using both for the coq au vin and to unwind, listening as the song changes in the background, instantly recognizing the drum pattern. The corners of your lips turn up into a smile as you close your eyes, enjoying the familiarity of the song as you say:

“God, I love this song.”

Luca smiles, “It’s a classic. Great song.” 

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream, she said

The one that makes me laugh, she said

Threw her arms around my neck

“You know, I saw them when I was in my early 20s. It was just me and a bunch of somebody’s dads,” you grin, in reference to The Cure. 

Luca chuckles at your comment, before asking, “Did you really?” 

“Yes. And when they came out on stage, smoke machine and all, I wept because it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream – to see them. I… was a bit of an angsty teen,” you answer, raising your wine glass to your lips once more. 

“Think we all had an angsty phase, more or less. Mine was less pining to The Cure and more stirrin’ up trouble,” Luca admits, lightheartedly. 

“Again, and I’m holding you to it. You promised me pictures,” you remind him with aplomb. 

“I did, yeah,” he chuckles, shyly, with a sigh of resignation. 

You focus on enjoying one of your favorite songs and sipping on your glass of wine, as you watch Luca put the enameled cast-iron plot, full of the ready-to-braise coq au vin, into the oven. 

Comfortable silences between you and Luca have become more frequent. There are days that all you want to do is stay up till the early hours of the morning talking and kissing and fucking, and there are others that you love leaning into the quiet intimacy that seems to be developing between you. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten what this feels like – the excitement of something new where you’re learning so much about each other and everything feels like the first time. 

It’s thrilling and it’s also safe. 

Luca makes you feel safe, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else but him. 

For a first time relationship, post-divorce, you really hit the jackpot, you think to yourself. 

Luca continues moving around the kitchen, drinking his wine in between clean up tasks, as if he’s at work, hell bent on keeping his station clean. He’s much better than you are at that, you observe, as he does a few dishes that he’s used up, instead of leaving them in the sink for tomorrow. 

As he dries his hands on a dish towel, the song changes, and the opening notes of Beyonce’s Love On Top begin playing. You smile as you hear the undeniable: 

Bring the beat in!

“Alright, mate. Hear me out,” Luca proposes, spinning around with excitement. “And I don’t say this lightly. But this. This is one of the greatest songs of all time.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggle as you watch Luca dance to the song in his kitchen with a smoothness that’s somehow simultaneously a little silly. 

“What? You don’t agree?” he asks, shooting you a look as he ball changes towards you, earning another laugh from you. 

“No, I do. I love this song,” you grin from ear to ear. “I’m just so tickled by the fact that you love this song.”

“It’s Beyonce,” he defends, in his best ‘well-duh’ kind of tone, gesturing wildly. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“Wh-,” you begin to say, before Luca’s practically pulling you off of the counter to join him. “Luca!!”

But he’s not having any of your protests as he wraps his arms around you. You hang onto him, holding him close as he leads you in a silly uptempo kind of dance, spinning and turning you with him in a way that has you in a fit of giggles. The two of you stumble from his kitchen into the living space area as you move together, embracing how goofy and ridiculous you both feel. 

Luca sings along softly, something you get a better listen to as soon as he’s pulling you close to him. 

“What the fuck!” you practically shriek, your jaw practically on the floor. 

“Hmm?” he hums in response, unphased by your outburst. 

“You’re unfuckingreal,” you balk, as you listen to him hum along to the Beyonce song. “I mean. You-, like, you look like this, you’re great in bed, and you have a nice singing voice? How-, how’s a girl ever supposed to stand a chance?” 

He chuckles, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, sending chills down your spine as he coos, teasingly, “I’m great in the sack, hmm?” 

Your heart skips a beat as you pull back, just enough to look into the eyes of your lover as you say, “Oh fuck off.”

He laughs again, this time, leaving a soft kiss against your ear, hugging you closer to him as you slow your dance down as the song begins to end. There’s a pause between this and the next song, providing the perfect opportunity for Luca to answer your earlier question. 

“You weren’t,” Luca replies, his voice quiet but sure. Supposed to stand a chance, he means. “I think we were supposed to meet. Supposed to be here.”

Supposed to fall in love. 

He leans down to kiss you as the next song begins, transitioning into a much bluesier sound. The crooning sounds of Etta James blast from Luca’s living room speakers, as you smile into the kiss. You groan, your heart aching in the best way as kiss him to:

I want a Sunday kind of love

A love to last past Saturday night

And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight

And I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, yeah

“My God. I think tonight’s shuffle is proof that you may just have the most versatile taste in music history,” you mumble, pulling away for a moment from the kiss. 

As you open your eyes, Luca’s just admiring you, an awestruck look on his face that steals your breath. No longer able to deflect with humor or anything else really, you lay your head on his chest, settling into the soft swaying motion of the dance that you and Luca have fallen into. Your arms go around his neck once more as Luca holds you close to him, making a mental note to remember this forever. 

“How did you know?” you ask Luca, softly. 

“What’s that, love?” he asks back. 

“You said that you thought we might be good at this. At… at an ‘us.’ When we talked about starting to see each other,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, underscored by the violins of the song. 

Luca takes a deep breath admitting that, “I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him, your eyes full of adoration for the man that’s captured your heart.

“Babe, I-,” he starts, letting out a small laugh. “I knew we got on well. And that I liked you. And I thought… if we got on this well as friends and you felt the same, that we could give it a go. See what happens.” He takes a beat, choosing his words, before continuing with: 

“But, my love, I can’t predict the future. It could work out in the long run, it could not. But I wanted-, I want to see how far we can take it.”

You take a deep breath, because this conversation is deep-breath worthy.��

Notorious for wanting to read the last page of a book first, you know he’s right, that you can’t predict the future, and you, now just as much as he does, would like to see how far this could go. 

“Yeah it-, that makes complete sense,” you stammer, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. You rest your head against his chest again, settling back into your slow sway to the beat. 

Like clockwork, the song ends, something a little more upbeat trickling in through the speakers. You and Luca remain in each others’ arms, content to stay here forever. You’re amazed at his confidence, at his fearlessness to take a chance on love, and you think to yourself, he might be teaching you some of that too. 

“Let’s take a trip together,” Luca suggests, the low resonance of his voice cutting through the quiet. “Maybe end of the month or something. An end of summer trip.” He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your hair as you enjoy the way his voice vibrates in his chest. 

“Fuck it. I could care less if we make it in time for the end of summer. Let’s just get out of the city together.” 

“That sounds spectacular,” you answer. 

And it’s there, in Luca’s arms after a dance party for two, that you think to yourself, you couldn’t be happier.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.  

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.  

 “Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[arcane-vagabond]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Ten

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, Language, Talk of mating rituals, Talk of potentially life threatening situations, Smut (oral, f receiving), Dirty talk, Confrontations. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The rain was more of a mist in the following days, setting the mood that had fallen over the rest of the town. Seagulls cried off in the distance and the waves crashed almost dully against the drab beaches of North Island. It was like the life had been sucked out of the little town in a matter of seconds.

Had anyone liked Mandy? Not particularly, but the idea of someone you’ve known your entire life meeting such a violent and unexpected end was sure to make people feel some type of way. Maybe not overwhelming sadness, but perhaps a mixture of shock and fear. That could have been anyone after all.

You watched waves crash into the shore from your perch on some of the rocks outside the Floyd home. They had departed earlier that morning, dressed in all black and looking worn.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Susan asked you, her eyes rimmed red from the tears she had been shedding nonstop over the past couple of days. You had given her a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m sure, Susan,” you murmured, nodding slightly. “It wouldn’t make sense for me to go, anyway.”

There was no love lost between you and Mandy. In truth, she despised you, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t feel something similar towards her.

Still, the thought of her lifeless body laying there on the beach had tears springing to your eyes.

You had sobbed into Bob’s chest, shoulders shaking and fingers becoming stiff from clutching him so hard. It wasn’t until a pair of gentle hands rested on your arms that you opened your eyes, revealing concerned, familiar green staring back at you. You flung yourself into Jake’s arms, your tears and sobs starting anew as he held you tightly, stroking a hand over your hair as he murmured assurances into your ear.

You felt ridiculous for it, really. You hadn’t even known Mandy all that well, and there you had been, in hysterics as if you had while everyone else stayed strong for you. So, no. It didn’t feel right to attend her funeral, so you stayed behind, allowing those who knew her the chance to mourn her properly.

The mist clung to you, seeping down into your bones until a chill settled over you and you could no longer keep the shaking at bay. You trudged up the wooden stairs to the back of the house, the grey light casting a gloomy glow throughout the different rooms as you made your way up the stairs to change.

You had promised Nat that you would swing by Mrs. Cambroni’s shop to pick up the masks for the Moonlight Masquerade that weekend.

“I would go,” she had murmured, her face drawn and a distant look in her eyes as she spoke, “but I have to be there.”

“I understand, Nat,” you had assured her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.”

So now you found yourself walking down the nearly empty streets toward the boardwalk. Most people were tucked away in their houses or in the various businesses that didn’t require one to be outside in the rain, and in some ways, you envied them.

You had expected this summer to be uneventful at best, spending time with Bob and his childhood friends while swimming and winning prizes on the boardwalk. It was supposed to be a fun, but overall underwhelming time spent with new and old friends before you went on to continue your studies with Bob.

Instead, you found yourself in the middle of a nightmarish fairytale filled with mermaids and murder. It chilled you to think of how many times you had been dragged beneath the waves and the one time you had. But, you wondered if all would be well now, as horrible as it seemed. After all, it was Mandy that had tried to kill you that morning by luring you into the water. Would it really be that big of a stretch to assume that she was behind the other murders as well? You supposed not, considering that seemed to be the line of thinking everyone had adopted. They tried to steer clear of that conversation for the most part, but you had overheard Nat and Bradley talking in hushed tones the day before about delayed claiming. They had stopped when you walked into the room, and before you could question them further, they had directed you out the door with the promise of ice cream.

They should have known by now that you wouldn’t drop it.

The bell above the door chimed to signal your entrance, and you shuddered as a wave of air-conditioned air washed over your still damp form. Why you thought changing would help, you weren’t sure, but it never failed to hope. The static laced pop song from the radio that sat on the counter filtered throughout the shop, feeling almost suffocatingly normal to you now.

You immediately headed for the display table near the front. An array of masks sparkled in the fluorescent lighting of the shop, and one in particular stood out to you. It was an off-white fabric that was embroidered with baby blue and pink flowers, different colored pearls embellishing the fabric. It amazed you how perfectly it matched the dress Nat had picked out for you, as if someone had known you’d need it.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by.”

You whirled around to meet the green eyes of Cole. He smiled as you placed a hand over your heart, willing the muscle to calm down.

“You startled me,” you groused half-heartedly, offering him a smile. He peered around, frowning when he saw you were all alone.

“You by yourself today?” He asked, brows pinching in concern. You shrugged, turning back to the mask and picking it up from the table.

“Everyone else is at the funeral.”

“Right,” he murmured, walking over to stand by you. “My aunt went to pay her respects.”

“You didn’t want to?” You questioned, earning a sigh from the older man.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” he hesitated, “but it wasn’t like Mandy was well liked, was she? I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” you replied, voice almost a whisper as the gruesome scene that plagued your thoughts once again flashed in your mind’s eye.

“The dead aren’t here to listen,” he snorted, shoving his hands in his pocket. Your eyes flickered over to him before turning your attention back to the mask in your hand. The two of you stood in silence for a brief moment as you ran your fingers over the mask.

“Has anyone told you yet why we throw on the Moonlight Masquerade every year?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Isn’t it just another excuse for everyone to get dressed up and wasted?” You countered with a snort. Cole grinned, plucking the mask from your hands.

“We celebrate it,” he began, hovering the mask over his face, “to remind us that the sea people walk amongst us undetected. That they could be anyone, and we would never know unless they revealed themselves to us.”

“I suppose it’s great for the local businesses to make some money too,” you chuckled. Cole smirked, handing the mask back to you before turning and heading towards an accessory display a few shelves over.

“You know,” he drawled, casually running his fingers over the different necklaces before grabbing one off the line, “it would be a shame if your look was marred by that mark on your neck. Why don’t you wear this too?”

“The mark?” You balked, your hand flying up to reflexively touch the mark in question. It tingled underneath your fingers, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran up your spine.

“Yeah,” he smirked, walking back towards you. “It actually reminds me of the claiming marks in the legends.”

“Does it?” You hummed. “You know, I’ve been hearing a lot about it, but no one has told me anything about it.”

The two of you stood in silence once again as Cole studied you, his face neutral and not giving anything away.

“What is it you want to know?”

“How does it work?” You asked, feeling excitement coil in your belly at the prospect of finally having your questions answered.

“Well,” Cole drawled, “let me see. You’ve heard the stories about the intention bites?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he continued with a nod, “well, the claiming bite is the next stage, the permanent stage. The sea people don’t give it without being completely sure about who they’re giving it to. People don’t accept it without being completely sure it’s what they want.”

“And why is that?” You breathed, leaning in closer, practically vibrating with anticipation. Cole smirked at you.

“Because it could kill you.”

You jerked back, eyes wide. “What?”

“The process can kill you,” Cole said as if he were talking about the weather.

“How?” You frowned, clutching the mask in your hand a little tighter.

“Well, it’s the whole process of it all, really,” he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. “In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death. Then, they breathe life back into them, bringing their partner to the surface where the bond is sealed with a physical act followed by the claiming bite.”

You stood in shocked silence, processing what he was telling you. How had the others not told you any of this? Were they just going to let you walk into this blind?

“Are you okay, Skipper?” Cole asked, concern laced in his features as he watched you. You took a shaky breath before offering him a small smile.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, Cole. Thank you. I should get going though. I promised Nat that I’d meet her later.”

“Don’t forget your masks,” he smiled, gesturing towards the table. You let out a laugh that was much too high pitched, wincing internally at how freaked out you sounded.

“Right,” you sighed, picking out a mask that you thought would match Nat’s dress, quickly scurrying after Cole towards the counter.

“I’ll see you around then, Skipper,” he smirked, handing you the paper bag once you had finished paying. You gave him a small wave before turning and all but fleeing the store, the bell chiming ominously after you.

Cole’s words lingered in your mind as you walked along the boardwalk with Jake a few days later, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you tucked yourself into his side. The sun hovered below the horizon, casting the last little bit of light onto the beach before the darkness of night took hold.

“Are you cold?” Jake asked, leaning down so that his breath brushed against the shell of your ear. A small shiver ran up your spine at the sensation, and you pressed yourself a little closer to him with a shake of your head.

“No,” you hummed, a content smile on your face as the two of you continued to walk. “‘m perfect, actually.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, green eyes sparkling as the two of you neared his home. “You are.”

You let out a rather unladylike snort as you trotted up the stairs and onto his porch. Jake grinned at you, trapping you between himself and the porch railing as he leaned in, arching an eyebrow at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you giggled. “You’re just really fucking corny, sometimes.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open in fake outrage, sending you into a round of giggles as he pressed into you further, his knee slotting in between your thighs as he did so. Your giggles cut off into a small gasp, eyes growing wide as he leaned in close enough that his nose brushed yours.

“You think I’m corny?” He challenged, a devilish smirk finding its way onto his lips. You let out a shaky breath, unable to tear your eyes away from his as you nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied, cursing yourself for losing composure so quickly. You shifted, unwittingly brushing your clothed core against his thigh and letting out a moan at the pressure against your clit.

The change in Jake was instantaneous. His green eyes began to glow as he let out a low growl, hands gripping your hips slightly harder as he deliberately rolled them back down onto him. You cried out, hands flying to find purchase in his shirt.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, the smirk once again finding a home on his face. “You like when I rub you right there?”

“Jake,” you whispered, eyes hooded with lust as you attempted to move against him. He tsked at you, holding you firmly in place as he gave you an admonishing look.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, leaning in to hover his lips above yours, his breath washing over you in hot waves as you let out a needy whine. “Good girls don’t take without asking.”

His lips pressed against yours then, slightly chapped but firm against your own. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, and you immediately granted him entrance, groaning as his tongue licked into you, stroking against your own. After a moment, Jake pulled back, nipping at your bottom lip before looking at you expectantly. It took you a moment before you realized what it was that he wanted.

You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours for a moment before leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from his lips, down to his jaw, and down the length of his neck.

“Please, Jake,” you whimpered. “Please make me feel good.”

“I don’t know,” he hummed, teasingly. “It doesn’t sound like you really want it.”

You let out a frustrated grunt as you once again attempted to roll your hips down against him, only to have him stop you. You nipped at the base of his neck, soothing over the bite with your tongue. Jake stiffened against you, and before you could ask what was wrong, his hands slid to grasp the underside of your thighs, hauling you up and through the screen door, lips moving eagerly against yours as he did so.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you let out a gasp as you felt his length press against your thigh. Jake made a beeline for the stairs, and looking back later, you were impressed with how easily he managed to get the two of you up the stairs without incident. Jake maneuvered the two of you into the room you had slept in just two weeks before, and you realized in that moment that it was his room.

Jake sat you on the bed, pulling away with short pants of breath as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I promised I’d take it slow,” he murmured, gaze searching yours, letting you make the next move. You reached for him, pulling him towards you by his shirt.

“I don’t care,” you said firmly, shaking your head as you pulled back to look at him once more. “I don’t care. Need you.”

Jake’s lips connected with yours once more as he laid you down on the sheets, running a hand up your side and underneath your shirt to lay just below your breast. His lips left yours, mimicking your actions from earlier and trailing his lips down from your jaw to your neck where his mark lay. He ran his tongue gently over the mark, earning a keening cry from you as you arched into him.

Jake quickly pulled your shirt up above your head and making quick work of your braw before latching on to your right nipple. His other hand came up to tweak the other, sending rivers of pleasure straight to your core as you writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Jake!” You cried out as he scraped his teeth over the pebbled nub before switching his attention to the other. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers curling in the soft, blond strands as his hand moved down to unbutton your shorts, helping you slide them down your legs and onto the floor.

He peeled himself away from your breasts, trailing his tongue down the expanse of your stomach as he settled in between your thighs, eyes trained on your clothed core where you could feel the wet spot on your panties. Feeling heat pool in your cheeks at his hungry gaze, you attempted to close your legs, but Jake caught each knee in one hand, prying them back apart and leveling you with a glare.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled, leaning forward to run his nose along your covered slit, inhaling deeply. He let out a strangled groan as you let out another gasp at the action, chest heaving with anticipation. His nose pressed into you, nudging your clit and sending you arching into his touch. You were sure it hurt with how tightly your fingers held onto his hair, but Jake was too lost in the bliss of you, mouthing at your center and reaching a hand down to push your panties to the side.

“This all for me?” He asked huskily, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. You swallowed thickly, only able to manage a nod. You let out a yelp as Jake frowned, turning towards your right thigh and biting down just hard enough to leave an imprint.

“I asked you a question, sweet girl,” he warned, soothing over the bite with his tongue as he gave you another glare from the corner of his eye.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, it’s all for you.”

“I made you this wet, huh? Did I make my pretty girl feel good?” He prompted, peeling your panties down your legs.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, arching into him, desperate for some type of relief, but Jake was firm, holding you down as he toyed with you.

He hummed, darting his tongue out to give an experimental lick at your dripping slit. You let out a strangled cry, pressing your face into the sheets as he repeated the action.

Jake let out a low growl as he dove in, tongue fucking you as his nose repeatedly bumped against your clit, his strong hands keeping you open and on display for him. Your breaths came out in pinched cries as he drove you closer to your high, the coil inside your belly pulling tight. You nearly sobbed as he added a finger, plunging it into your depths, seeking out that spot inside of you.

“So tight,” he whispered, almost reverently as he focused his attention on your clit, adding a second finger and hooking them until you let out a wail. You felt him smirk against you, and if he wasn’t making you see stars, you’d have smacked.

“Did I find that sweet spot, pretty girl?” He chuckled, honing in on that spongy spot deep inside of you. Your release was quickly approaching, and your hips rocked up to meet his thrusts your hands moving to find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

Jake let out a low groan as your walls fluttered around his fingers, the sting of your fingernails driving him mad as he chased your release almost more eagerly than you did.

“Need you to come for me, angel,” he murmured, sucking your clit back between his lips and adding a third finger. The stretch of his fingers had you keening, and he sped his thrusts up. “Look so pretty like this, all strung out for me. Can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock, this pretty little pussy milking me dry. I’m never going to get enough of you, I swear it. I’m gonna keep you nice and full, and you’ll feel me for days. Now come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my fingers.”

And with a brush of his teeth against your clit, you were sent careening over the edge with a high-pitched cry, your eyes scrunching closed as the coil in your belly finally snapped. Jake lapped up your release eagerly, tongue licking up everything you had to offer. You trembled in his grip, thighs shaking from excursion and aftershocks as the blond licked you clean. You let out a shaking breath as he pulled his fingers from you, licking your juices off with a hum.

“So sweet,” he murmured, eyeing you up and down with a small smirk. You fought to catch your breath, reaching out clumsily for him. He leaned into your touch, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, lust-filled kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning at the flavor and reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grip his length. Jake let out a moan before pulling back abruptly, pupils blown as he looked at you.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and you frowned up at him.

“What?”

“No, I-” he paused. “I don’t want our first time to be like this. I want to do it right.”

You watched him for a moment, your mind still reeling from the orgasm he had just pulled from you. Slowly, you nodded, pulling him down into another kiss, your fingers lacing through his hair to massage his scalp.

“Okay,” you nodded against his lips.

Jake smiled down at you, repositioning the two of you so that your heads were up by the headboard, facing each other as he traced his fingers absentmindedly over your skin. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other's presence. You allowed your mind to wander, and it inevitably drifted to what Cole had told you the other day.

“It could kill you.”

“Jake?” You whispered, peering up at him from where you were nuzzled into his neck. He hummed, one eye slinking open to look at you.

“Is it true that the mating bite could kill me?” You asked, and Jake’s eyes shot open. He sat straight up, leaving you scrambling to follow.

“Where did you hear that?” He demanded, brow furrowed as he watched you wearily. You frowned up at him, your own brow pinching together as you regarded him.

“So, it’s true,” you muttered. Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s true that the mating bite comes with its risks,” he conceded, chewing on his bottom lip. You waited patiently for him to continue, curling your knees up to your chest as you watched him. “It’s rare for it to kill someone though.”

“But it does happen?” You prodded, lips pursed. Jake glanced at you before looking down at his lap.

“Very, very rarely,” he admitted. “The process becomes more dangerous the longer someone goes without taking a mate.”

“Like you?”

Jake looked at you fully, a look of hurt mixed with desperation painted on his pretty features. He reached for you, and you allowed him to cup your face in his hands, his thumb running gently over the apple of your cheek.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” he murmured, eyes pleading as they darted over your face. “Don’t for a second believe that I wouldn’t kill for you, Skipper. You are everything to me.”

You studied him silently, eyes tracing over the hard lines of him. Jake had never given you a reason to not trust him. Quite the opposite, in fact. The desperation in his voice had a part of you regretting even bringing up the topic in the first place. You smiled up at him softly, running your fingers over his jawline, his day old stubble rubbing against the pads. You leaned up to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughing lightly as he tried to chase your lips with his.

“I trust you,” you whispered.

A/N: Friendly reminder that I am in the process of redoing my tag lists. If you have not signed up for the new one, please do so by clicking the link at the top of the post! Please be sure to have your age/age range and blog filled out or I will not tag you and more than likely block you. As always, please comment and reblog to show your support! Updates are also posted on my AO3 account under arcane_vagabond. If you enjoy my work, consider leaving me a tip!

[delicatebarness]

good graces: a cry baby story | chapter three

Summary: An anonymous tip is called into the station, after two years will the case finally be solved?

Warning: Violence. Missing Persons. Affairs and Infidelity. Intense Emotional Distress. Interrogation and Suspicion. Potential for Harm.

Word Count: 1221

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: Ooo, our first chapter without Steve. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Cry Baby: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @eaterof-concrete | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

Steve’s words echoed in your head the next day. You were unable to shake the encounter from your mind. Hills eyes held questions as she took in your shaken appearance. 

“Rough night?” she asked, concern etched into her features and laced in her tone. 

You nodded. “Just more motivation to bring them down,” you replied, your resolve hardening. The memory of your confrontation with Steve played, fueling your determination.

Handing you a file, Hill nodded. “I’ve got something that might help. An anonymous tip came in this morning. Someone wants to meet you at a diner tonight.” 

Taking the file, you flipped through the statement. The details were sparse but intriguing. “Specifics?” 

Hill pointed out the address and time in the statement. “It’s a small place on the outskirts. They sounded nervous, so I’m coming with you.” 

You appreciated the backup. “Good idea,” you shot Hill a small smile. “We can’t take any chances.” Having Hill by your side provided a sense of security as the seriousness of your situation called for extra caution. 

As the day wore on, the anticipation grew. You planned your approach meticulously, considering every possible outcome and rereading the added report to the mountain of information on the Avenger.

~

By the time night fell, the tension was palpable as you and Hill drove to the diner. The small, unassuming place stood out in the desolate outskirts of the city. The neon sign flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. 

Inside, you felt the eyes of a few patrons on you as you entered. In a corner booth, your contact was already there, her envious demeanor contrasting against the causal setting. Her eyes darted around nervously as you approached. You and Hill slid into the booth across from her.

“Thank you for meeting us,” you said, trying to put her at ease. Offering her a reassuring smile, though your own nerves were on edge. 

“This needs to be quick,” she said, her voice trembling. “He has people everywhere.” 

“We’ll protect you,” Hill promised. “Just tell us what you know.” 

Taking a deep breath, her eyes filled with fear and determination. “My husband went missing about two years ago, and I believe they had something to do with it.” Another glance around the diner, her paranoia evident. 

Hill leaned in, her expression serious. “Who do you mean by ‘they’?” 

“The Avengers,” she whispered, glancing around the surroundings as if expecting one of them to appear. “John… he somehow got involved with them. I found out he was having an affair.” 

Exchanging a puzzled look with Hill, you questioned your contact. “An affair?” 

“Yes,” she continued, her voice shaking. “With the Rogers’ girl. I found out after he went midding. But, I don’t believe it was just an affair; it was something more. And, I think it got him killed.”

“What makes you think that?” Hill asked, urgency laced in her tone. 

“For about a week before he disappeared, John would come home with his face black and blue. He’d make up excuses, for example, falling down the stairs at work,” she pauses, a soft, bitter chuckle escaping her lips. “You know, for someone who was keeping up with a secret affair, he’d learn to lie better.” 

“How did you find out?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

She sighed deeply, her hands trembling as she spoke. “I went to their bar, hoping to find answers… demanding answers. At first, they brushed me off, declaring they knew nothing, but…” 

You and Hill leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. The story enveloped you as you listened intently, and you gave her your full attention.

“I could see in her eyes, it was almost as if she was about to cry,” her voice cracked with emotion as she continued.

“Who? The Rogers’ girl?” you asked.

She nodded. “I could sense that she knew more, so I waited until I knew she was there without them. Only she wasn’t alone; she had the one everyone refers to as the gang's guard dog or something?” 

“James ‘Bucky’ Barnes,” Hill confirmed, adding more clarity to the wife's story. “That’s not surprising, they have been publicly dating for about a year now.” 

The wide paused, her eyes welling up with tears. “I pointed at her, demanding answers once again. He got in between us, repeating that they didn’t know anything, but I was desperate.”

“Did she say anything?” Hill asked with an intense expression. 

“She admitted it,” she continued, her voice breaking. “She said John wasn’t honest with me– that they had been dating. She apologized, explaining that she didn’t know until she found out he disappeared that he was married.” 

“But, why do you think the Avengers are involved with his disappearance, just over an affair?” you asked, trying to understand her reasoning.

“John started coming home with bruises suddenly,” she replied, her tone growing more frantic. “And not just once or twice– they constantly got worse. He was hiding something. And then, he vanished. The timing, the bruises, the guilty look on her face– I can’t imagine it being anyone else.” 

“So,” Hill spoke up, looking thoughtful. “You think him getting involved with the little sister of their head, led to his disappearance?” 

“Yes,” the wife said, her voice firm. “I don’t have proof, but my gut tells me they had something to do with it.” 

Exchanging another look with Hill, you both processed the new information. Steve’s voice echoed in your mind, warning you to stay away from his sister; provoking him again this soon could jeopardize the investigation. 

“We need to tread carefully,” you muttered. “Rogers’ has already warned us about questioning his sister. I’m afraid if we push him too hard, it could backfire.” 

Nodding in agreement, Hill gave you a small reassuring smile. “We’ll have to find another way to get information. Maybe there is someone else in their circle who knows something.” 

The wife’s desperation was clear as she looked between you and Hill. “Please, find out what happened to John. I just want to know the truth.” 

“We will,” you promised, your voice steady and firm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes.” 

Stepping out of the diner, the cool, damp night air felt like a welcome relief from the oppressive tension inside. The intermittent flicker of the neon sign seemed to reflect the uncertainty swirling in your mind. Exchanging a final, meaningful look with Hill, you headed to your car. 

“I think we should call it a night,” you said, your voice carried notes of fatigue. “We’ve got a lot to process, and it might be best to get some rest and think it over.” Hill nodded in agreement. 

Each streetlamp cast fleeting glimmers of light across the windshield, punctuating the silence of the drive home. Once at your apartment, you went through your evening routine with a mechanical detachment. Settling into bed, the weight of the wife’s story pressed heavily on your mind. 

You need this time to absorb the details, sort through the implications, and plan your next steps carefully. Your thoughts were a tangled web of suspicion, concern, and the looming challenge of finding out the truth behind John Walker’s disappearance. And, possibly Steve Rogers and the Avengers’ involvement.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[scarlettjemily]

Latch

I have a Jemily playlist on spotify and I shuffle it and write a fic inspired by the song

Song: Latch (acoustic version) - Sam Smith (suggested by @pascaleledumbo)

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Summary: Season 17 Emily and JJ finally getting married. This is their wedding day. This fic is just pure happiness, not a single thing goes wrong. It's just all love.

Word count: 2.2k

Posted on Ao3 as well

Chapter 2

*Not my pictures*

“You’d think with it being my second wedding, I wouldn’t be so nervous,” JJ laughed, smoothing out her dress with her hands. She looked at herself in the mirror, a rush of excitement hitting her.

"Yes, but your first wedding wasn’t with Emily,” Penelope pointed out, handing JJ her bouquet. “You look so beautiful,” she gushed, looking at her best friend. She had to stop herself from crying; she couldn’t believe Emily and JJ were finally getting married after all these years.

“Hey! Don’t you start! I don’t want to ruin my makeup before I get out there.” JJ turned away from Penelope, waving the girl away.

Penelope took the most dramatic deep breath, trying to compose herself, “I think I’m okay; let’s go. We can’t keep Em waiting,” she said, ushering the bride out of the room so they could get to the wedding.

“Nervous?” Tara asked, handing a glass of whiskey to Emily. She sat down on the arm of the couch, watching as Emily took a quick sip of her drink, then placing it down so she could fix the buttons of her suit.

Emily chuckled, her shoulders shrugging. “A little, but I’m more shocked. I never thought we’d be together, let alone get married.” She picked her drink back up and turned to face Tara. “How do I look?” She asked, giving her a spin.

“You’re an absolute smoke show, Emily; you look amazing.” They both laughed and clinked their glasses together, throwing back the rest of their drinks. “Okay, the car is here; we better head off.”

Penelope held JJ’s hand as they walked up to the entrance of the little garden; she could hear soft piano music playing, which was her cue that the ceremony was about to start. She saw Rossi standing at the entrance; he smiled and held his hand out for her.

JJ felt tears well up in her eyes. “Dave, really? Am I not too old to be walked down the aisle?” She joked, trying to stop herself from getting too emotional. She was already feeling overwhelmed, in the best way possible. She just wanted to see her soon-to-be wife.

He grabbed her hand and linked his arm with hers. “Oh hush, I already walked Emily down 5 minutes ago.”

JJ couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Rossi walking the woman down the aisle. Her usual stoic self, probably struggling to compose herself and to hide how much it meant to her. “How’d she seem?” JJ asked, watching as Penelope walked around the bend of the aisle.

“She was happy, Jennifer, so unbelievably happy." Dave looked at JJ with a warm smile. He lifted her chin with his finger so she was looking at him. “Are you ready?” His smile was so comforting for JJ; he really was like a father to her. To them both.

“I’m so ready,” she beamed, walking arm in arm down the aisle. When she walked around the bend, the first thing she saw were all their friends in their seats. Granted, there weren’t a lot of people, but the most important people were there. It made it more special that way.

As soon as JJ’s eyes locked onto Emily, she felt her throat tighten. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on. There was no stopping the tears that dropped from the corner of her eyes. That was her soulmate.

She was dressed in a completely ivory suit that cinched at her waist perfectly. The wide-legged pants covered a pair of pointy white heels. Her silver hair pinned up loosely, stray curls falling around her face perfectly. It took every ounce of control JJ had to not sprint down the aisle and jump on her fiancée.

Emily had to look away for a moment to collect herself; the pure shock of seeing JJ in a wedding dress stole all the air from her lungs. She looked back and let out a quiet laugh when she saw JJ crying. She knew all too well how emotional JJ could be—a change of pace from her usual lack of emotions. Well, lack of expression, Emily felt a lot; all the time, she just compartmentalised better than most.

JJ looked radiant, walking down the aisle in an ivory dress that matched Emily’s suit perfectly. More proof the women were made for each other; they complemented one another without needing to plan a single thing. Emily’s chest felt warm when she looked at JJ; her blonde hair was loosely curled and falling over her tanned shoulders. Emily could swear that JJ’s skin was glowing under the warmth of the sun; she’d never felt more in love with the woman than she did in that moment.

JJ took the last few steps down the aisle; she gave Rossi a kiss on the cheek, whispering her thanks. She handed her bouquet to Penelope before she turned to look at her fiancée. She laughed as she began to cry again. She couldn’t control the emotions that were spilling out of her; every time she looked at Emily, she just felt so overwhelmed with joy; all she could do was laugh and cry.

Emily reached her hand out, taking a hold of JJ's hand, the other resting on her hip. “My love, you look so beautiful,” she whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek. JJ’s hand rested on Emily’s cheek, shaking her head, her eyes taking in her facial features. Something she’d done a million times before "here,” Emily said, pulling a tissue out of her jacket pocket and handing it to JJ. The small crowd of people laughed at the sight, all of them knowing what JJ was like.

“Thank you,” JJ chuckled, using the tissue to dab her cheeks. “I just can’t believe we’re finally here,” she said, still not believing that they were about to get married. Emily agreed, giving JJ’s hand a firm squeeze, not planning to let go anytime soon.

“They will both now read their vows; who would like to go first?”

The two women had a silent conversation with their eyes, deciding that JJ would start. Penelope handed her a piece of paper that had her vows written on it; she unravelled them, her hands shaking slightly. The paper was covered in her neat and precise handwriting—not a single letter out of place. Emily smiled knowingly; her paper was the complete opposite: covered with scribbles, words crossed out. It represented them perfectly.

“Emily, my Emily." JJ started, glancing at her fiancee for a moment before deciding to keep her eyes on her paper; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get through the vows. “I can’t believe I’m standing in front of you right now, at our wedding, about to call you my wife. You started off as my co-worker, then you quickly became a friend. Then all of a sudden you were my boss,” the crowd laughed along with Emily and JJ. “Then you finally became my girlfriend, my fiancee, and now my wife." JJ let out a shaky breath, a small tear rolling down her cheek, but she was able to continue reading through it. “After everything we’ve been through together and separately, I’m so grateful to say that you have been the most consistent thing in my life. No matter what, you were there. Always.” She used her arm to wipe her tears because she refused to let go of Emily’s hand. “You were there for me when I didn’t even know that I needed you, but I think I’ve always needed you, and I’m certain I’ve always loved you. Even if it took me a while to come to terms with it,” a soft chuckle sounded from the crowd. “But now that I’ve got you, I promise you, there’s no way I’ll ever let you go.”

Emily quickly wiped a tear from her eye as JJ finished her vows. She squeezed her hand and gave her a warm smile. “That was beautiful, darling,” she complimented. She pulled her own piece of paper out of her pocket and shook her head. “Not as neat as yours,” she admitted sheepishly. JJ gave Emily an amused look, assuring her it was okay and waiting to hear her vows.

“Jennifer, Jen, JJ, my darling, my love... I can’t keep track of all the names I call you, and I’m sure there will be a million more that I’ll come up with, seeing as you’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives,” she laughed, looking up at JJ. All the people around them seemed to disappear when Emily watched JJ giggle; she stopped for a moment, getting distracted by how beautiful she was. "God, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” she stated, practically dazed.

JJ couldn’t help herself; she planted a kiss on Emily’s cheek. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “Keep going,” she encouraged, giddy about what might be on the paper.

Emily let out a quick breath, concentrating on her paper again. “I truly believe I fell in love with you the first day I met you, but I thought you’d never feel the same way. So I decided that I’d have you in any capacity I could, and that was as my best friend. Now that you’re going to be my wife, I promise to always be your best friend first, to always be by your side, loving you and supporting you and annoying you just as much,” she gave JJ a quick wink before continuing. “I’m so grateful you chose me to be your wife. I wake up next to you every day, and I’m still pinching myself because I can’t believe that I get to call you mine." Emily folded the paper back up and returned it to her pocket. “I promise to love you until the day I die, and then in my next life, I promise to find you and love you again and again and again,” she croaked, her cry getting stuck in her throat.

JJ shook her head, crying at Emily’s words. She grabbed Emily’s face, not caring about the traditions of the wedding, and kissed her deeply. Emily’s hands landed on JJ’s hips as she kissed her back; there was no way she would pull away. She also didn’t care about traditions; her and JJ were by no means a traditional couple.

“Well then, you both may keep kissing the bride!”

The crowd erupted with loud cheers and continuous clapping. Both women laughed into their shared kiss, pulling each other closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“After you, my wife,” Emily held JJ's hand as she stepped into the car; she didn’t let go as she slid in the back seat next to her wife. “Thank you,” she aimed at the driver as he began to drive off.

JJ scooted closer to Emily, wrapping her arms around the woman as best she could. “I love you,” she hummed, smiling contentedly when Emily wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Emily mumbled the sentiment back, placing a series of small kisses on JJ’s forehead. “Did you have a good day?” She asked, pulling back slightly so she could look at her wife’s face.

Emily placed her finger under JJ’s chin, running the pad of her thumb across her bottom lip. “It was better than good, baby; it’s been the best day of my life,” she whispered. Her heart swelled seeing JJ’s face beam; she captured JJ’s lips in a kiss, still holding her chin. “I can’t wait to get you to the hotel,” she mumbled against her lips, clumsily kissing her at the same time.

JJ swore her body shivered at the thought of getting back to their hotel. She gave her wife one last squeeze before pulling away. “We’ve got to stop; otherwise, I won’t be able to control myself in the back of this car,” she stated under her breath, only for Emily to hear.

Emily smirked, holding JJ close to herself, letting her chin rest atop her wife’s head. "Soon, my love, we’ll be there soon,” she reassured, letting her hand rest on JJ's thigh.

JJ squealed when Emily lifted her in her arms in the traditional bridal carry. “Emily! Don’t drop me!” She laughed, holding her tightly around her neck.

Emily stepped through the door of their room and swiftly kicked it shut behind her. “I would never, baby girl; I’ve got you.” She headed down the hall into the room, aiming straight for the bed. She threw JJ onto it, chuckling at JJ’s overly dramatic squeals. Emily kicked her heels off and walked to the edge of the bed, simultaneously unbuttoning her suit jacket.

JJ giggled, hopping up on her knees and crawling over to Emily. “Let me,” she purred, pulling Emily’s jacket down her arms and throwing it to the floor. She frantically kissed her while making quick work of her blouse; she moaned deeply when Emily’s hands made their way into her hair. Pulling it tightly into a makeshift ponytail, “I love you,” she groaned as Emily pulled her hair back, beginning to kiss down JJ's neck.

“I love you too, my darling,” Emily declared against JJ's skin, her hand snaking around her back to unzip her dress. “I can’t believe you’re my wife,” she divulged, watching as JJ's dress pooled around her knees, leaving her in just her underwear. “You’re all mine,” she professed, wrapping her arms around JJ's bare waist.

JJ wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m yours, Emily, forever,” she beamed, both women still basking in the shock that they each finally got to marry their best friend.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man: Prequel

A/N: Sometimes, family is... (checks notes)... being in a band with your brothers? That counts, right? @cassianappreciationweek Listen, I just wanted an excuse to bring back Drummer Cassian! Time to find out how Cassian and Nesta met and how Cassian got that first date 😉 If you've read the first part, there are some fun easter eggs in here like Cassian writing the song and a callback to “I can’t wait for you to be mean to me for the rest of our lives.”

Part One // Read on AO3

“I think the end of the queue is this way.”

“I can’t believe there’s already so many people here.”

Nesta allows herself to be led down the sidewalk by her linked arm with Elain, the middle Archeron following the path carved by Feyre forging ahead. As they walk, Nesta can’t help but eye the crowds around them. Elain is right, there are more people than Nesta expected, almost all of them dressed up in some way. Some have face paint scrawled across their cheeks, some have handmade signs clasped in their hands. And Nesta even spies a trio of girls dressed as cows, some sort of band inside joke that she’s clearly not privy to.

Although, she’s not really privy to anything when it comes to the band.

She still can’t believe she allowed Feyre to talk her into attending this concert in the first place. Sure, she’s always had a deep love of music, ever since she was a little girl. Something about the way a lilting melody can carve and embed itself within her very bones, about the way a harmony can flood and warm her veins, about the way a simple string of notes can somehow sing to her very soul, plucking at strings within her until only peace remains.

But she has no knowledge of what type of music she can expect to hear tonight.

And when the choices are curling up beneath a pile of blankets with a glass of wine and her latest Sellyn Drake novel or standing all night while dealing with screaming girls and songs she doesn’t even know? Well, Feyre and Elain are lucky that Nesta loves them.

“What time do the doors open?” Elain asks, drawing Nesta out of her thoughts.

“They should have already opened,” Feyre explains, trying to peer around the bodies in front of them. “Either way, we don’t have to worry. Our tickets are for one of those fancy boxes.”

“Really?”

“We could get one of those fancy boxes but not a special entrance that doesn’t require standing in line?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Alright, grumpy,” Feyre teases with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sure it’ll move quickly.”

At least, Feyre’s assumption is correct. They continue to shuffle forward and forward until the line of doors is in full view, workers making quick work of checking bags and scanning tickets. Wristbands are secured around all three sisters’ wrists, and then they’re stepping inside the venue. Upbeat music from a playlist blares through the sound system, fans excitedly rushing forward toward the general admission crowd gathering along the floor in front of the stage.

“Come on. I want to get a t-shirt,” Feyre declares, wrapping a hand around each of her sisters’ wrists and dragging them toward the large table to the right.

While she and Elain wait for Feyre to make her purchase, Nesta eyes a pair of girls also waiting to buy merch. One of the girls has a sign, looping red letters declaring, Won’t you be my Van-Daddy? The request has Nesta snorting softly to herself. She still remembers when Lucien Vanserra first hit his growth spurt, when he was all middle school gangly limbs in their kitchen while he and Feyre worked on a school project. And that nerdy boy with unruly red hair is meant to be “daddy?”

“Got it,” Feyre announces, stepping back over to them and holding her shirt up for them to see.

“Isn’t it a bit weird to have a shirt with your childhood friend’s face on it?” Nesta asks, tilting her head as she takes in the design of the front of the shirt.

“More like hilarious,” Feyre argues, folding the shirt and tossing it over her arm. “When we get up to our seats, you have to take a picture of me in it, so I can send it to Lucien.”

They make another pit stop at one of the venue bars, each ordering a drink, and then finally, they make it to their seats. Nesta has to admit, the view is pretty amazing. She steps right up to the low wall meant to act as a railing for their box, peering down at the throngs of bodies excitedly awaiting the start of the show along the floor. Her eyes trail up and to the stage, skating over the setup for the opening act. It’s simple, just a drum set and two microphone stands set in front of it, but despite the good view of the stage, Nesta can’t quite make out the white script on the front of the drums.

“Who’s the opener?” Nesta asks, turning toward where Feyre is posing with her new shirt thrown over her dress while Elain takes her photo.

“Um…” Feyre hums, taking her phone back from Elain and typing away at the screen. “Some band called the Bat Boys.”

Nesta snorts softly. “What a stupid name for a band.”

As though the Mother herself is laughing at Nesta, the lights dim as soon as she’s made the comment, an echo of cheers ringing out all around them. Three men step out and onto the stage, each of them with dark hair and dressed in all black. They take up their spots, the guitarist speaking into the microphone and to the crowd, but Nesta finds her gaze instantly drawn to the drummer.

He’s certainly larger than his bandmates, all wide shoulders and chest. The black tank he’s wearing stretches against his size and his skin, the swell of muscle of his arms and the ink swirling along the golden brown skin on full display, and those very arms and muscles flex with every swing of his arms against the drum kit as he plays the opening song of the band’s set. His hair hangs loose around his face and down to his shoulders, dark curly strands practically swaying along with the beat of the music he’s creating. And even from her vantage point, Nesta can tell he’s got a wide, cocksure smirk plastered across his face, even as he leans forward to sing into his own microphone.

“For a band with a stupid name,” Feyre leans over to shout in Nesta’s ear over the music. “They’re pretty good.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the almost smug tone of her youngest sister, but she can’t quite disagree. She finds herself tapping her foot and nodding along with each song that the Bat Boys play, humming appreciatively when they slow it down to a more stripped back song.

But when the song ends, the drummer jumps to his feet, peeling off his tank and tossing it into the crowd, showing off every hard line of muscle and every line of tattoo ink. A clamor of screams rings out from the crowd in response, making the drummer’s grin widen as he makes a big show of flexing.

“One two three four!” he shouts, banging his drum sticks together and jumping into the next song of their set, another upbeat one.

Nesta shakes her head. “What a fucking show off…”

~ * * * ~

Nesta’s ears are still ringing, an ache pressing against the balls of her feet, as she follows her sisters down the steps and out of the venue. The cool, night air is a welcome reprieve after the heat inside, and Nesta takes a deep breath, allowing it to prickle across the skin of her cheeks. She can still feel the music humming through her veins, still hear the last song the Band of Exiles played winding around her mind, her soul.

“Should we split an Uber?” Nesta turns to ask her sisters.

“Actually, Lucien sent me the bar they’ve gone to for post gig drinks,” Feyre offers with a sly smile. “He said we’re welcome to join.”

“Really?” Elain asks, the clear excitement coloring her tone leaving both sisters blinking in surprise for a moment, but Elain doesn’t say anything more. She merely turns away as though the night will hide the blush flooding her cheeks.

“Then you two go,” Nesta says. “I’d rather just go home.”

“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Feyre pouts, looping her arm through Nesta’s as if that will physically keep her from leaving. “It’s just one drink. It’s not going to kill you.”

Feyre continues to pout at Nesta, making a big show of blinking her eyes as if she’s seven years old again and that look will make Nesta give her an extra cookie for dessert. Still, it has Nesta sighing with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Fine. One drink and then I’m going home.”

“That’s the spirit! And just think of the money you’ll save on an Uber by waiting out these crowds.”

Nesta rolls her eyes again, but it doesn’t deter either of her sisters. Feyre doesn’t even bother dropping Nesta’s arm, using their linked arms to tug Nesta along the sidewalk in what she assumes is the direction of the bar. At least, it’s not a far walk. A small consolation, Nesta supposes.

The bar itself isn’t one that Nesta has ever been to before, but she can admit it’s quite nice. Pendant lights hang above the dark wood of the bartop, painting the whole space in golden light that bounces off the colorful bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. With the moody green wallpaper and the dark tiled floors, it’s as though the space has stepped directly out of an elegant speakeasy.

Unsurprisingly, there’s already a large crowd enjoying the drinks and ambience and their respective Friday nights, but Feyre leads the way up a set of stairs and to what appears to be some sort of private event space. Nesta glances around at the smaller secondary bar along the left side of the wall, the people gathered around it and the various high top tables lining the railing to the right.

“Feyre Archeron.”

Nesta turns just in time to find Lucien Vanserra now standing in front of her sisters. He’s certainly had another growth spurt since Nesta last saw him all those years ago, Lucien now standing a head above them all. He seems to have grown into his red hair too, the strands hanging around his face and framing the high cheekbones and strong jawline of his features.

“Lucien Vanserra.”

Feyre and Lucien continue to stare at one another for a moment, but then, Feyre is letting out an excited squeal, all but leaping into Lucien’s arms. He hugs her back tightly, lifting her off her feet in the process and laughing into the golden brown strands of her hair.

“Did you get shorter?” Lucien asks, setting Feyre back down on her feet.

“Fuck you,” Feyre gasps out on a laugh, punching him in the arm. “It’s not my fault you went and became a giant after going away to fancy private school. You know, I still remember when I had to defend you on the playground as kids.”

Lucien laughs easily, shaking his head. “We remember those days very differently clearly.”

Nesta clears her throat loudly, finally drawing back Feyre’s attention. “Sorry. You remember my two older sisters, Nesta and Elain.”

“Of course, I…” Lucien begins, his voice trailing off when he meets Elain’s brown eyes. “Elain.”

Elain smiles sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I really liked you and your band’s songs.”

“You did?” Lucien asks, his voice practically breathless.

“Especially that one song about losing a love, but still dancing with the ghost of them in the kitchen.”

Lucien’s smile is slow, russet eyes bright and only on Elain. “I wrote that one myself actually.”

“It just really spoke to me,” Elain tells him, stepping forward as though tugged by some invisible golden thread. “Right to my heart.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Please.”

They don’t even say anything else, don’t even bother looking back before Elain and Lucien vanish toward the bar. It takes everything within Nesta not to snort in amusement at the whole thing, at the way they’re both so clearly staring at one another with stars in their eyes. At least, one Archeron is ending their night happy.

“Is she serious?” Feyre asks, affronted. “Lucien is my friend.”

“Can I go home now?” Nesta asks in response instead.

“Only if you’re going home with me.”

The deep timbre prickles along the back of Nesta’s neck, and when she whirls around, she comes face to face with the drummer of the Bat Boys. He has that same cocksure smile that he wore up on stage, and he seemingly found a fresh black shirt to pull on, the fabric clinging just as tightly as the tank did.

Nesta had known he was large when she saw him on stage, but face to face, she realizes she still may have underestimated. This close, she realizes that his eyes are hazel, a burning maze of greens and flickering gold, that there’s a scar through his eyebrow of the right one. This close, she realizes he smells of pine and leather and that sweet scent that twists on the breeze right before it snows.

This close, she realizes he is unfairly attractive, and she just might hate him for it.

“Did you really think that line was going to work?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Can you blame me for trying? A woman as beautiful as you, I had to shoot my shot.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow, settling the drummer with a look cold enough to send any man scampering back to his table. “Compliments will get you nowhere.”

In a surprising twist, rather than cut his losses, the drummer throws his head back and laughs, the sound deep and warm. It seems to come straight from within his chest, seems to curl around Nesta’s limbs. When he meets Nesta’s gaze again, there’s a fire blazing in his eyes, a challenge, and his smirk has morphed into one of pure amusement. The reaction sparks the embers in Nesta’s own chest, but she’s quick to douse them, quick to keep her face perfectly cool and neutral.

“So it’s a no for pickup lines. A no for compliments,” the drummer notes, daring to lean in closer into Nesta’s space until she gets a lungful of pine and a crackling fire. “How about bribery then, sweetheart? Can I buy you a drink? Your choice.”

“And what if I order the most expensive drink I can get? Top shelf.”

The drummer hums as though he’s actually considering it. “Alright. But you have to chat with me until you finish the drink.”

“Deal.”

The drummer holds his hand out expectantly, and Nesta has to blink a few times at just how large his hand is. But she refuses to be fazed. Raising her chin, she slides her hand into his. His calluses slide against her palm, fingers curling around almost her entire hand and threatening to send a shiver skittering up her spine. His touch is surprisingly warm, his entire body and presence seeming to resonate heat.

Before the handshake can last too long, Nesta yanks her hand away again. She turns on her heel and strides toward the bar, heavy footfalls behind her and the gaze burning into her back informing her that the drummer is following. She leans against the dark wood of the bar top, quickly grabbing the bartender’s attention with a simple raise of her hand.

“Can I get a shot of your best, most expensive vodka? On his tab,” Nesta requests, gesturing with her head to where the drummer now leans against the bar beside her.

The drummer laughs again, an easy chuckle. “Now that’s just cheating.”

Nesta turns toward him properly, finally giving in to the smirk she’d been biting back. “Guess you better talk fast.”

“How about we start with names? I’m Cassian, and you are…?”

The bartender returns at that exact moment, setting the small shot glass full of clear liquid down in front of Nesta. She swipes it up and tosses it back. The vodka is smooth, but it still burns on the way down, mixing and coaxing the burn of satisfaction low in her gut. Slamming the now empty shot glass back on the bar top, Nesta spins around toward the door.

“Time’s up. Better luck next time.”

She keeps her chin raised high, keeps that smirk firmly in place. She revels in the prickle across her skin at that gaze she can still feel pinned to her, and if she sways her hips a bit more than she normally would, well, no one but her has to know.

~ * * * ~

When Nesta checks her phone while enjoying her morning coffee, she’s surprised to find a new follower and a new DM request on her Instagram. She clicks on the account and almost rolls her eyes at the hazel eyed, curly haired man smirking back at her in the profile photo. He’s certainly dedicated, she’ll have to give him that. She knows that she should ignore him, maybe even block him, but curiosity has her clicking back over to the DM.

@BatBoyCass Hello, Nes 😏

@LadyNesta Stalking me on Instagram? Really?

Nesta’s surprise only grows when almost instantly the three small dots appear at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Cassian is typing. Was he waiting by his phone for her response? Didn’t he have band practice or something? According to Elain, the tour was moving on to a new city today, much to her younger sister’s apparent disappointment.

@BatBoyCass Actually, your sister gave me your handle. She refused to give me your number and decided this was safer. Quite protective. Rhys was into it But that’s not important. How’s your morning going, Nes?

@LadyNesta It’s Nesta. Not Nes

@BatBoyCass Guess you should’ve stuck around last night. Could have told me that yourself. It’s too late now. Nes 😜

@LadyNesta Is this your next tactic? Bribery didn’t work so now you just plan to annoy me?

@BatBoyCass Actually, my next tactic is this

Nesta frowns down at her phone screen, at the message, but then a moment later, a photo comes through in the chat. It’s a mirror selfie, but Nesta can’t tell where it was taken from the background. Although, it’s hard to focus on anything other than the large body taking up the frame. Cassian is shirtless, black fabric draped over his shoulder presumably the remnants of his shirt.

Nesta can do nothing but stare at the hard cut of his jaw where his head is tilted to look at the phone in his hand. At each swirl and loop of black ink across the golden brown skin of his chest and arms. At every hard line of muscle that makes up his stomach. At the waistband of what looks like gray sweatpants hanging low enough that his v lines are on full display.

The whole sight is enough for Nesta’s mouth to go dry, for heat to creep up her neck and spill across her cheeks. Before she even realizes, her bottom lip has found home between her teeth, eyes tracing over the photo again and again. What would it feel like, getting her hands on that body, feeling each hard line and curve beneath her fingers? What would it feel like to have his hands on her? She still remembers just how large they were compared to her own.

“Fuck,” Nesta whispers to herself, mentally chastising herself and shaking her head of any of those sorts of thoughts. Instead, her fingers tap across the screen of her phone.

@LadyNesta What’s next? A dick pic?

@BatBoyCass That goes against Instagram’s guidelines. You’ll have to give me your actual number for that Or I’d be more than happy to give you a show in person😏

@LadyNesta You’re not even in Velaris anymore

@BatBoyCass Did you look up our tour, Nes? I’m touched 🥹

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, setting her phone face down on the table. She goes back to finishing her coffee, but she barely lasts a minute before she’s swiping her phone back up. She refuses to let him have the last word, refuses to let him continue to believe she would ever look up his tour dates.

@LadyNesta You wish. My sister mentioned it

@BatBoyCass Don’t worry. There’s only a few weeks left of the tour. Then, I’ll be back in Velaris. Maybe we can get dinner then?

@LadyNesta Pass

@BatBoyCass How about another bargain? You have to send me a message every day, just one. Unless my irresistible charm has you wanting to send more 😉 But one message, that’s the deal. Maybe a fun fact about yourself? One every day until I’m back in Velaris. And then if you still don’t want to get dinner with me, then I’ll leave you alone

@LadyNesta Fine. Here’s my first “fun fact” about me. I’m incredibly stubborn and I hate not winning. So hope you’re prepared for the crushing disappointment of rejection

With a satisfied hum, Nesta sets her phone down for good. The man clearly needs to learn how to phrase his bargains better. One message a day. Easy. It will be the easiest thing Nesta has ever done. And in a few weeks time, this stupid drummer with his stupid chiseled body and his stupid easy smile and warm laugh and pretty hazel eyes will be out of her life for good.

But when Nesta finally dares to check her phone later that night, she finds a new message from Cassian waiting for her. He���s shared an Instagram Reel with her, and when Nesta clicks it, Jake Johnson’s voice blares from her speakers, ‘Stop being so mean to me or I swear to God I’m going to fall in love with you,’ and there, in the quiet and dark in her bedroom, where no one else can see her, Nesta laughs.

~ * * * ~

Nesta wakes to another photo in her Instagram DMs, but this time, Cassian is nowhere to be seen in it. Instead, the photo is of a beach. The waves crashing against the sandy shore look almost silver, the silhouettes of birds flying just above. The horizon is a line of purple that gives way to pinks and yellows before fading into the deep blue of night still clinging to the top of the frame.

Sunrise. It’s the beach right before the sun rises, Nesta realizes. She finds herself wondering what he was doing awake so early, almost going so far as to type out that very question and ask before she catches herself. She holds down the backspace, focusing on Cassian’s message below the photo instead.

@BatBoyCass Good morning, Nes! We’re in sunny Adriata today. I bet you’d look gorgeous in a bikini 😍 Definitely wish you were here. I could rub sunscreen on your shoulders. You could rub sunscreen onto mine. Sounds like a dream…

@LadyNesta Sounds more like a nightmare

Nesta continues with the rest of her morning, getting ready and heading to one of her favorite brunch spots in town to meet with Emerie and Gwyn. It isn’t until she’s settled at the table, thanking the waitress who sets down three waters while she waits, that Nesta finally looks at her phone again.

@BatBoyCass Not a fan of the beach, sweetheart?

@LadyNesta Oh, I love the beach, but I much prefer a cold drink and a good book on the beach rather than obnoxious drummers

@BatBoyCass You like to read? What kind of books do you like?

Instinctively, Nesta starts to type out a response, always more than happy to talk about her love of books, about her current read, but then she remembers their bargain. And she’s already shared her ‘fun fact’ about herself for the day, already met her quota, and she still refuses to lose. She quickly deletes the message she had typed out, but Cassian must be watching for her reply, must have seen the three dots to show that she was typing appear and then disappear.

@BatBoyCass That’s alright. We can save that question for tomorrow. I’ve always preferred historical fiction. I actually just finished reading Hatfield 1677 while on tour and really enjoyed it I think if the band didn’t work out, I’d end up a history teacher. I’d be good at being a history teacher. Maybe in another life

@LadyNesta Another life? I didn’t take you as the type of person to believe in that sort of thing.

@BatBoyCass I hope I meet you in every life

“Who has you smiling and blushing at your phone?”

Nesta snaps her head up to find Emerie now standing at their table, her brown eyes alight with amusement and a small smirk tugging up her lips. She scowls fondly at her friend, setting her phone face down on the table and willing the heat prickling her cheeks to dissipate.

“No one.”

~ * * * ~

@LadyNesta Do you ever get nervous up on stage?

Loathe as she is to admit it, over the last couple of weeks, Nesta has come to enjoy her messages with Cassian. There’s something easy about it, about their back and forth. Something about the way her teasing and jabs only leave him laughing, the way he gives back as good as he gets. Something about the way he genuinely cares about what she has to say, about her ‘fun facts.’ Something about how he doesn’t balk when she dares to share a deeper piece of herself.

It’s surprisingly comfortable, as though she’s known Cassian much longer than she actually has. As though she’s known him her whole life, as though her very soul somehow recognizes him. As though there’s music entwining them like golden threads.

@BatBoyCass Actually, I love it. It’s exhilarating being up there. I can feel the music all the way down to my bones. And to hear a crowd sing back a song you wrote? There’s nothing like it

@LadyNesta You write songs?

@BatBoyCass That’s right, Nes. I’m more than just a pretty face 😎 I even started writing a new song just yesterday

@LadyNesta Let me guess. You’re going to play it for me?

@BatBoyCass Not until it’s finished. I still need that last bit of inspiration Hoping to find it tomorrow 👀

@LadyNesta What’s tomorrow?

Nesta stares at the screen of her phone, waiting. She watches the three dots appear and then disappear. They appear and then they disappear again. It has Nesta tilting her head curiously, eyebrows dipping in confusion. She knows that she hasn’t known Cassian particularly long, but this certainly doesn’t seem like him. He’s usually so quick to respond to her messages, so quick to turn on the teasing and the charm without a second thought. What could it mean that he’s typing and retyping his answer? Is he… nervous?

@BatBoyCass Tonight’s the last show of our tour. In Scythia. I’ll be back in Velaris by tomorrow afternoon

Nesta’s heart skips a beat in her chest. This is it, the moment of truth, the end of their bargain. She could tell him that she’s still not interested, and that will be the end of their interactions. She’ll never receive another message from Cassian. She could tell him that his charm and his kind heart and good looks has had no effect on her.

But she’d be lying to him just as much as herself.

Only a few weeks, and already Nesta can’t imagine a day without talking to Cassian. Just the very idea has ice bleeding between her ribs and threatening to crystalize in her chest. She wants to see that fire blaze in his hazel eyes and push back to meet it until he’s smirking in amusement. She wants to hear his crazy stories from tour and his teasing innuendos. She wants him to make her laugh. And if she’s really being honest with herself, she wants to see and feel that body and those hands outside of a mere photo.

@LadyNesta 7pm. Don’t be late

~ * * * ~

The knock on her front door sounds through the apartment just as Nesta is finishing up the last touch ups to her makeup. She glances toward the clock, the red digital numbers declaring the time to be 6:58. Punctual. One last look over herself in the mirror, and Nesta steps out of her bedroom.

When she pulls open the front door, Cassian is standing on the other side. His hair is scraped back away from his face, piled into a bun at the back of his head, and a comfortably worn leather jacket hangs on his frame. His hazel eyes in person spark that same way Nesta remembers, a slow smirk tugging up his lips as he leans casually against the door frame.

“Hello, Nes.” His eyes sweep over her, his jaw slackening. “Mother save me. You look amazing.”

“I thought we already established that compliments will get you nowhere.”

“Can you blame me when you look this beautiful?”

Nesta has to swallow down a blush at his words, at the sincerity burning in his gaze. She rolls her eyes and shoves lightly at Cassian’s chest, enough to get him to move back so she can step out of her apartment.

“Are we going to dinner or not?”

“Of course,” Cassian confirms, holding his hand out until Nesta threads her fingers through his own larger ones. “I got us a reservation at Carmichael’s.”

Nesta’s steps stutter for a moment and she peers up at Cassian in surprise. “Carmichael’s? Don’t you need to make reservations weeks in advance there?”

“Oh, you do. I made the reservation as soon as we agreed on our bargain.”

Nesta comes fully to a stop at that. She blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around this new information, and she can’t help it. She laughs. Cassian’s eyes light up at the sound, the gold flecks within the hazel practically glinting beneath the lights of the hallway. His smirk morphs into a wide, genuine smile, and the sight is enough to leave Nesta feeling breathless.

“Feeling confident, were you?” Nesta teases, trying and failing to fight back her own grin.

“I’m confident about plenty of things, sweetheart,” Cassian tells her, stepping closer into her space. He uses his free hand to twist one of the strands of Nesta’s hair framing her face, the tips of his fingers skimming along her temple.

“Is that so? And what else are you confident about?”

“That I’m going to marry you one day.”

—

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