#HE BECAME A FAIRY *SWATS

[jangmi-latte]

HE'S LITERALLY EVERYWHERE HELP

[eggroll-sama]

Treasure Me

Elyon x reader. You’re a bartender that works at the Wet Wick and when Elyon meets you he finds himself with feelings he’s not accustomed to. Reader is a hopeless romantic that wants love, while Elyon doesn’t believe in it till he becomes a victim of it. SFW, written in Elyon’s perspective.

Taking inspiration from a fanfic called Kintsugi by Leanderfields. Check them out!!

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You were dozing off between the state of sleep and wake in bed. Your back to Elyon, who spooned you tightly with his hands splayed wide on your lower abdomen.

What a splendid creature you were to Elyon, a beaut with extraordinary courage and heart. To think you were just around the block of his store, working at a shabby bar frequently occupied by the Bloodhounds.

It was ironic to Elyon that he, who only viewed sex as a commodity and fleeting pleasures, found love with one that viewed it as so intimate and precious, that which he found ridiculous at first, till proven otherwise when he fell madly in love with you.

At first, Elyon felt you were delusional believing in true love. For an owner of the most successful brothel in Hightown, true love was simply for the fairy tale books. And then you came along, with your unabashedly genuine heart, your disinterest for the materials and luxury’s thrown at you, for what you seek was beauty within another, and reciprocation of your love. What a mess you made out of him, destroying everything that he prized himself and the world for. Power, money, status. But you didn’t want any of that. And if you were gifted it, you would accept it with indifference, glassy-eyed, or deny it, for it was of no use to you.

Your existence previously invisible was noticed, and you became a nuisance to him. Catching you at a cafe nose deep in an old romance novel, cover frayed and pages yellowing, yet eyes sparkling with joy and wonder at the words painting pictures he couldn’t imagine. Seeing you talk to your friends from across the street, smile splitting your face and cheeks flushed from laughter, and how he wished you looked at him that way one day, to bask in the soft glowing aura of your presence. From the window of the Wet Wick, he can see you working, drying glasses with a towel. It became routine for him to catch a glimpse of you every morning before work. Only one day, you were talking to the green-eyed mage, shamelessly flirting with you with a knowing smile then proceeding to caress your cheek, causing you to blush and in reaction swatting your towel at his arms playfully. Watching this through the window, Elyon’s heart stirred, swiftly leaving the scene so he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself. In his office, he replayed the scene inside his head while his hand occupied a glass of wine, wondering your relations with the mage and trying to ignore his heart rapidly beating inside his chest, hoping what he assumed wasn’t true and that you weren’t in fact already someone else’s. And if you were, he just had to steal you from them, for he could treat you much better, lavish you with love and attention, and make you the happiest.

To want another person to be happy. It was a foreign feeling, but it came so easily to him when it was you. He was a selfish man, for that he knew all too well. He wasn’t exactly known for his generosity amongst the nobles. Yet he found himself thinking of you when you weren’t there, mind often wondering of ways to lavish you with gifts— this perfume would be to their liking, this book they’d adore, this necklace bejeweled with diamonds would look exquisite around their neck— and make you happy. In the middle of the night, you would plague his mind, and his hands would reach for your presence next to him, but only met with frigid sheets. Is this what it feels like to be in love? It was torture, tumultuous to his heart and ego that was so used to buying everything he wanted. But your heart wasn’t something he could buy. And nothing that he previously thought all he needed to gain one’s love, you cared for. What you cared for was so foreign in his life, he wasn’t adept at providing. Many a nobles he’s courted, slept with, voicing empty words of love and worship and that he would return with equal lack of passion. But you were a commoner that didn’t know of those courting formalities, and you had a keen intuitiveness that allowed you to see through others. Both of which was troublesome. Not only that, he didn’t win your favor. Quite the opposite. When Elyon had first met you, you voiced disdain for his lack of character in owning a business that you claimed sold bodies for a fake sense of comfort and acceptance. So he had to change tactics.

Little small steps was what he took to unwind you, to build his credibility, destroy the image you have of him as a heartless man, and though he’d admit that was an accurate observation, when it came to you, his heart overflowed with admiration, worship, and love, and that he wished you could see. And when his endeavors was able to chip your walls and he saw a flicker of a smile on your lips, he was over the moon. It was a slow process, but with a good progression, till you finally accepted his heart and bared yours to him.

Underneath the thin blue covers, Elyon drunk in your warmth next to him. He took your face gently and pressed a kiss to your lips, admiring how soft it was between his own. His thumb rubbed your waist affectionately. You groaned lightly underneath him, mumbling incoherent words cutely. The moon shone bright outside of the windowsill, and your face illuminated like an Angel sent from heaven. He admired you up close. He could smell your shampoo with a touch of citrus honey. He kissed your lips again, this time you were fast asleep. He gently caressing your soft cheek with his thumb as if you were a porcelain doll. So close, he could hear the lull thudding of your heart against his bare skin, the best sound to put him to sleep.

Your heart was the most precious thing he could possess. Others could take his innumerable expensive trinkets and jewels, clothing, furnitures, his entire fortune for all he cared. But you were the one thing he’d allow nobody else to take from him.

You were his one and true treasure.

[racheyace]

Enemy Territory

A Merman/Fairy Romance - oneshot

Finley is a freshly recruited scout Fairy and prays for his days of flying round in circles to bring him something more exciting to report back with. Careful what you wish for Fin.

This story contains some swearing, some ogling at giant mermen and some angst. Enjoy! Approx 3000 words

Only one hour into my shift and I already wished for my day to be over, I’d been offered the job only a week ago and had been so proud that I was even considered to be a scout and now I longed for an occupation that was more exciting. My patience has always been very low, and I had figured scouts saw more action, than anyone else in the village, which I why I applied in the first place.

What I hadn’t accounted for was hours of flying back and forth with nothing to do. It wasn’t often that a human or any other creature breached our borders, and the glamour kept them away anyway, I sat on a low hanging branch and wondered why we even needed scouts anyway if we were so thoroughly protected that nothing could even get close to us. And then I heard it.

“Fuck!”

The voice was distant and had come from an easterly direction, outside our borders and towards the beach that skirted nearby. It wasn’t a place that was protected with magic and so it wasn’t often that fairies ventured toward the beach, we had a freshwater stream that ran through our village and that seemed to be enough for any Fae who craved the water.

However, the stream wasn’t enough for me, I had become pretty familiar with the beach lately, having nothing else to do and broadening my scouting circles wider in hopes of catching something exciting. We had all been told stories of Sirens and Merfolk and to steer clear of the ocean for that reason, but something about the salty air and a sunset on the horizon kept pulling me back.

With caution, my wings buzzed to life as I carefully flew in the direction of the beach, perhaps it was a human, perhaps it was a siren, whoever it was had piqued my curiosity and I had to know what their issue was.

As I flew closer, the trees became more spares and I found a safe branch, high out of reach and with a good vantage point of the shore. There I saw the most interesting thing I had probably ever seen.

There on the sand was a merman, his dark skin glistening with salt water, his dirty blonde hair was so knotted and so long it just about reached his tailbone. And his tail, immense as it was, flicked in agitation spreading the blood further through his aqua scales.

He growled in agitation, trying in vain to grip the fishhook that had lodged itself into the back of his tail, high enough that he wouldn’t be able to turn his tail to reach it and at an angle that his fingers simply couldn’t reach. Now I could very well sit and watch this creature struggle and I would laugh, but he would then also bleed out, and though the Fae and Merfolk were sworn enemies, I had no intention of watching someone die.

Sighing to myself I had to make a decision, it had been well over a century since the Fae of our village had even interacted with one of the merfolk, I never paid much attention in our history lessons, I don’t even know what the war was about. Surely generations later, this Merman would have no reason to see me as a threat, I would make it clear that I simply want to help. Yep, that’s what I’ll do.

“Hey seaweed brain, you need some help!?”

His aqua gaze instantly landed on me, his scowl deepened but I approached anyway, sort of like a beached whale, I knew he wouldn’t be able to move quickly on land. I stayed out of arms reach regardless, circling him slowly.

“Not from the likes of you, Pest.” He spat; he raised a hand to swat at me as if that would get the hint across. Unperturbed though I was, I approached closer, this time hovering around the fishhook, another place I knew for a fact he couldn’t reach.

“I could just, you know-“ I placed a hand on the hook and he hissed in pain, writhing violently I quickly zipped further away again. His piercing gaze met mine for a second time, the vibrant blue of his eyes mimicking the colour of his scales and I shivered.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He roared and I raised my eyebrows at him.

A sat myself down on a rock jutting out of the sand, elbows on my knees as though waiting for him to figure it out himself then.

“Fine, I’ll just sit back and watch you bleed out then, can’t have any humans finding your body later so I guess I’ll have to bury you myself.” I sighed as though not looking forward to the future job at hand.

“You could just fuck off.”

“And have your discovery put my village in jeopardy!? Nope, it’s my job to ensure the safety of my fellow Fae, so I guess your stuck with me for a little while aye?”

He rolled his eyes before deciding to ignore me completely, he continued to struggle in vain to reach the fishhook. I must admit he was getting quite creative, twisting, and stretching his chiseled body this way and that, he even had the clever idea of trying to use a stick to reach, alas this only pushed on the hook causing him to hiss in pain again.

After probably an hour of failed attempts, he was starting to give up, his skin had grown paler, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep going much longer. With a powerful fury he slammed his fists into the sand.

“Neptune’s Ass!” He swore before slamming his body onto his side and breathing heavily, his back turned to me.

“I guess Merfolk really do swear like sailors.” I muttered.

“Piss off, midget.” His muttered response came.

I flew closer again, this time circling round to his face and resting my feet in the sand a good arm’s length away before offering my assistance again.

“Actually, midgets are human and quite a bit taller than the average Fae.” I said arms crossed over my chest. “You ready to accept some help yet? You’ve got maybe thirty more minutes before you bleed out completely.”

His eyes flicked toward the sand that was rapidly being soaked through with his blood before resting on mine again, he contemplated for a while before closing his eyes and muttering. “Fine.”

I smiled triumphantly and flew toward the wound site; I stood in the sand right before the fishhook and took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the scales before me. Each one twinkled brightly in the sun with subtle movements, each scale larger than my hand and I had to stop myself and hold back a boyish giggle as I realized I was staring at a Merman’s ass.

“Hurry up already!” The immense man growled from above, I rolled my eyes this time, wasn’t in such a hurry an hour ago I thought dryly.

I took a deep breath and grasped the arrowhead of the fishhook with both hands, pulling it out from this side would mean the serrated nooks on the hook wouldn’t pull chunks of flesh away with it. I planted my feet in the sand and pulled, the man overhead roared so loudly it continued ringing in my ears, but I guess I couldn’t blame him, this had to be painful.

“Al-most-THERE!” With one final tug I managed to pull the hook right through which sent me sprawling backwards into the sand and then my whole world shook. The Merman was moving, he swiveled his body around, arms falling and sinking into the sand on either side of me. My eyes bugged as his face hung low over me, I felt like I was going to shit my pants. This bastard was trying to intimidate me after I just saved his fucking life, is he serious!

“Don’t eat me!” I shrieked, my voice becoming embarrassingly high pitched as I clung to the fishhook, embracing it like it would save me.

“Gross.” His face scrunched up as though he didn’t see me as a delicious thing to be devoured, I was mildly offended, I would be a delicious snack! Shut up Finley!

“You Fae have healing magic don’t you, heal me.” He demanded, his eyes fierce and commanding.

I pushed the hook off of my chest and quirked an eyebrow at him, I couldn’t believe this man right now!

“I was going to do that anyway asshole, what would be the point of taking out the hook just to let you die anyway?”

His face softened then, and he muttered a half hearted ‘Oh’ before backing up a bit.

“Now turn around and give me your ass again.” I said standing and dusting off my hands when I looked up at him, his eyebrows were sky high holding an incredulous look.

“Ah, not like that fish-brain, just...turn around.”

He complied without another word, swiveling so that the wound site was once again before me, still oozing out blood. Healing was not my forte and it would likely leave a scar, but he would live.

I placed my hands on the wound eliciting a wince from the Merman, but I kept going, I recited the words I had been taught as a child, scarred into my brain like most essential spells had been at a young age. If I had practiced more, I’d be better at it, but this would have to do, my hands developed a soft green glow and seeped into the wound, slowly stitching the flesh and scales back together.

“Why are you helping me?” His voice was void of all aggression and malice that it had held throughout our entire interaction, replaced instead with a genuine curiosity, why would I care about the likes of him?

“Because your injured.” I said wondering why that hadn’t been obvious. “I guess I would hope that if you ever found a Fairy in trouble, maybe you would help.”

“Hmmm.” Was all he said in response, I finished up the healing spell and took my hands off of his tail, wiping the blood from his wound on my pants.

“Besides, I meant it when I said I’d have to hide your body if you died.” I continued, smiling at my handiwork and then wondering what I should do now. A part of me wanted to zip off back into the forest, this creature was my enemy and was very capable of killing me in an instant now that I’d healed him. And yet, another part of me wanted to stay, something about this man increasingly intrigued me and it wasn’t just his shimmery ass.

He let out a short laugh before swiveling back around slowly this time to face me, sitting comfortably in the sand, he eyed my handiwork briefly before speaking.

“You’re nothing like I thought a fairy would be.” He said simply, colour had come back to his skin giving him an ethereal glow as he blocked out the sun above from me, essentially casting me in his shadow, but I didn’t mind it at all.

A blush filled my cheeks as he continued to stare down at me and I shook my head with a laugh, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah? Well, you weren’t exactly like the fairytales either.”

The corners of his lips curved into a small smile, he then lowered himself down into the sand, laying on his stomach with his arms crossed in front of me, lowering himself to my level instead of looming over me.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Finley.” I said simply, unsure of what exactly was happening, he’d seemed so menacing before and now, he was almost coming off as friendly.

“I’m Kairos, it’s been interesting to meet you Finley.”

He held out a finger in front of me, a handshake, was I forming an alliance with Merfolk? Was this the start of a new era? Calm down Fin, you’re not that important.

We stood there awkwardly for what felt like forever, his eyes were large and curious as he seemed to drink in all five inches of me over and over, like a Faeling cooing over a ladybug.

“So, uh- I guess I’ll see you around.” I said shoving my hands into my pockets and flicking my wings ready to fly.

“You don’t have to go.” He said.

“Why do you want me to stay? You’re healed, wouldn’t you prefer to be in the ocean?” I gestured toward the large expanse of sea before us, the sun was almost at it’s peak, my shift would be over soon.

I wonder if this is something I need to report?

“I kinda wanna see what you’ll do next.” He stated as though I were some kind of side show attraction. “And besides I can stay out of the water for hours, I don’t come on land often, so I’m making the most of it.”

“What do you want me to do, juggle?”

“Go on then.” He flourished his hand inviting me to take to the stage.

“Piss off.” I laughed. “Besides I can’t really juggle…” I added as an afterthought. “I can do this though…”

With a whispered incantation, I brought two brilliant flames to life, one in each hand. They flew from my hands and collided together in the air, creating a large fire ball that then danced around his head and in front of his eyes which were wide in amazement. 

He reached out a finger as though to pop it like a balloon, before I could revert the spell, his finger touched the fiery ball and his hand jerked back as he hissed.

“It’s fire dumbass, it’s hot.” I said flatly, extinguishing the flame.

“That was fire?” He asked, clearly, he’d never been on land long enough to witness fire, well perhaps not close enough to know that it was hot.

“I guess you’d never see fire, living underwater.” I shrugged and then asked. “Do merfolk have magic?” It was a question that had been burning, I knew they were technically magical beings, but did that mean they could wield magic as the Fae could?

With that he planted his hands in the sand abruptly and pushed himself up to a sit, causing me to crane my neck back to keep on looking at his face, not that I minded a face full of his chest.

He flourished his hands at the ocean, and I was going to ask if he was, okay? I didn’t have to wonder long because after a few quick flicks of his fingers there was a bubble of water.

It floated on the surface of the ocean before Kairos beckoned it closer and it gingerly flew toward us before hovering above me. Within the watery sphere there were patterns forming as the water within it swirled in constant movement, it was mesmerizing, and then it popped.

“Bastard!” I swore as I was unceremoniously drenched with water from wing to feet, I gave my wings a flick, but they were heavy with water, great, looks like I’ll be walking home.

Above me the Merman was positively cackling with laughter, his shoulders shaking and his eyes sparkling with joy, right, so this was payback.

“Hardy Ha, very funny, you’ve soaked my wings through though idiot, now I’m stuck here.”

I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth, I’d just admitted to a known enemy of the Fae that they had made me vulnerable, as well as revealing a vital weakness of our kind.

“Is that so?” His eyes turned dark like they had the first time his eyes had landed on me, with no warning whatsoever, the giant jerk had his hand wrapped around my waist, fortunately my hands remained free, and I readily started thumping on his knuckles.

My hands lit with flames, and I was about to show him a real show when he turned me around to face away from him and a warm breeze blew my hair forward.

I froze, flames dying on my fingers, and I fought to stop the involuntary shiver that ran through me as he blew another breeze over my wings. I twisted my head around trying to catch his face, but my eyes only zeroed in on his large lips pressed together as they blew another gust over me.

“W-what are you doing?” I barely mustered the words to speak at all, I was in some form of shock, fear, and confusion as to what the hell he was doing to me.

“I’m drying your wings, what does it look like?” His breath was so close to me that his words vibrated through me, and I couldn’t fight the shiver this time.

I managed a weak ‘Oh’ before another warm breeze rocked me, my body began to relax, my eyes closed and I sank into the oddly blissful feeling that came from each of his immense and gentle warm breaths against my body.

The feeling came to an end too soon however because he then began to lower me back to the ground, releasing me onto my jelly legs that very nearly gave way under me as I turned to face him once more.

“Well, it’s been fun shorty, but I should get going.”

I nodded my head like a guppy before shaking the stupor off of my face and actually responding.

“Yeah uh, me too actually, my shifts almost over so-“

“Thanks for saving my life.” He cut me off. “Will you be back to the beach again? Or have I scared you away for life now?”

“Ha, you my friend, are not scary, and yeah I visit occasionally, might see you here, maybe under better circumstances next time yeah?”

He laughed softly and gave me a small nod.

“See you next time Finley.”

With that he edged himself closer to the water and before I knew it, he was gone, quick as a flash and only a playful flap of his aqua fin to show that whatever had just happened had actually happened.

Smiling ruefully to myself I took to the sky and headed back towards home, perhaps being a scout wasn’t so bad and besides I was healing a relationship between Fae and Merfolk, what’s the worst that could happen?

[kerizaret]

I swear I had a dream where mafuyu, mizuki, minori, tsukasa and (fes) rin suddenly became part of,,,, a fairytale? Some story? or smth? It was kiiiind of like sleeping beauty at first (mfy being sleeping besuty) but it changed later anyway and ik everyone was trying to get them to a happy ending

I actually don't remember much anymore, ik mizuki and minori were often on the lookout for mfy's parents bc they didn't trust them, but there was once some talk about mfy's dad seemingly being good snd trying to help her. I remember rin was mafuyu's good fairy but at some point she started kind of like,, losing her powers? Also tsukasa started becoming invisible and disappearing whenever anyone from the story (so mfy&her fsmily) (for some reason rin didnt count) stood close to him. Just straight up gone in a second and popped back when they were away

There was a scene where mfy was talking with her dad and he was good snd trying to protect her from some curse or smth and giving her good advice, then he left for a moment, and then came back and he was suddenly being very pushy and manipulative?? Trying to corner her in some tower and make her do smth (I think it was to touch that sharp thing that made sleeping beauty fall asleep bc of the curse) but mfy instead kept backing away to the balcony. I know rin tried to stop him but he easily swatted her away bc of her lost powers and said that she had no impact on them anymore bc she stopped being part of the story because "there's already someone who's her successsor"? As in another person became the fairy in the story so rin lost her powers? And that someone was apparently tsks? Who wasn't here bc he got invisible-d again???

Anyway mizuki and minori were chatting somewhere under the tower in the garden and heard the noises and when they looked up they saw that the one talking to mafuyu was kind of, switching between two appearances and it was actually (fes) len using some kind of an illusion to look like mfydad and "advance the story"?? Anyway they panicked bc mafuyu was already on the balcony and while backing away from len she had no more space left, so she just LEANED OUT AND FELL DOWN FROM THE BALCONY. Idk how but mizuki and minori MIRACULOUSLY managed to run up and catch her 😭😭😭 also tsukasa then popped to existence again on the balcony and I'm p sure he slapped len and broke the illusion but then I woke up so ifk what else happened

[judeandcardan]

"You wanted to kiss me,” she breathed, looking down at his lips. Cardan’s eyes widened but he didn’t dare to move, waiting for Jude to finish her sentence. “And I told you that you were drunk.”

“Well, I’m not drunk anymore.” He found himself whispering before he could stop himself.

Read it on ao3

(Thank/blame @golden-notebook-thinking for this)

The High King of Elfhame woke up with a pounding head, his thoughts scattered. He blinked blearily, looking up at the ceiling of his chambers which was tastefully adorned with gold patterns. Across his stomach lay a petite fairie with hair as white as snow with her mouth flaked in gold. Cardan watched as she took deep breaths, obviously very much asleep. He looked around his chambers and sure enough there were three more sleeping fair folk draped across his room in various state of undress.

He gingerly got up, swatting the white-headed fairy’s arm until she blinked up in alarm at him. “Get off me,” He snarled in disgust. The fairie quickly scurried away from him. Perhaps, he should have been nicer, he mused but as he watched her cower, he felt the familiar thrill of having power so wicked and cruel over someone that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He got up from his bed and walked towards the door, careful to avoid the bodies of other fairies currently lying on his bedroom floor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he silently closed the door behind him. It wasn’t dawn yet, so all the other residents of the palace were fast asleep. The silence hung heavily around him, suffocating him. He hated being alone. He strode towards the garden just outside the palace longing for some fresh air.

It was strange how his steps seemed to be eerily silent even in the quiet. Jude’s steps would not have been this silent, this ghostly. The thought came unbidden to him startling him as he opened the grand doors leading to the garden. He shook his head, disgusted by himself for thinking of his seneschal for such a trivial matter.

The warm humid air hit his cool skin immediately as he stepped outside. The breeze blowing his raven curls that were a mess from yesterday’s party and what followed after that. He moved towards the riverbank overlooking the river flowing gaily and hastily in a blur of blue.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her. Jude. She was sitting at the edge of the river, leaning on her arms, her feet dipped in the cold water. It was reckless behavior, being so close to those treacherous waves, but Jude had always been foolishly reckless.

Her hair hung loose around her, a rarity, as her hair was always in one or another tight knot or braid. Her head was thrown back, exposing the long pale column of her neck. Her pink lips parted. Her eyes shut. She wore a loose flimsy white dress that reached till her knees but due to her sitting with one of her knees bent, it hiked up, showing the skin of her thigh. Cardan gulped, looking away but then almost immediately, as if under a spell he looked back at her. She was looking straight at him.

“Seneschal,” He said loftily, trying to mask his embarrassment at being caught staring.

“My King,” Jude replied with a slight snarl of her lip, getting up from her position.

“Oh, no need for that.” Cardan said quickly, too quickly. “Keep sitting. I shall join you. After all, you wouldn’t dare to refuse your High King, would you, Jude?” His tone took a threatening tilt at the end, daring her to refuse. Anger flared across her face, but she simply shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it.” She said lowly, in a controlled voice. Cardan smirked and sat down beside her.

“You know, you shouldn’t do that,” He said, pointing towards her feet with one longer finger adorned with glittering rings.

“What?” She asked half-heartedly, her eyes closed.

“Dip your feet in water,” He clarified, “there are many a killer beneath these waves.”

She cracked an eye open, narrowing her eyes at him. “They are probably sleeping, right now.” But Cardan didn’t miss it as Jude became more alert, her eyes open, her back straighter.

“Hmm,” Cardan said turning away from Jude, “it’s just that I would like it if my Seneschal was alive.”

Jude scowled, begrudgingly retracting her feet from the water. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” He said with a small smile. Jude rolled her eyes at him and that made him smile even more.

After a pause Jude said softly, “You look like a mess.” Cardan blinked slowly, looking down at himself. He truly was a mess. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned and tousled, stained with amber wine. He was wearing no boots. His breeches were scattered with gold powder. He was sure his hair looked quite wild too.

“I do.” He said, nodding his head slowly, looking up at her.

Jude snorted, “Of course, you do.” She opened her mouth then paused as if debating internally whether to speak what was on her mind or not. The sight unnerved Cardan. Jude wasn't like this.

“Go ahead, speak what’s on your mind.”

Jude hesitated then said, “I was just going to say…of course you look like a mess, you were so drunk and stupid last night. Wild. Brazen. Reckless. Careless. A High King shouldn’t behave like that, Cardan.”

Cardan ignored the latter half of what Jude said and instead asked, “Jude, what did I do?”

Jude jumped a little at her spot, not quite meeting his eyes. “Cardan—”

He cut her off. “Jude. What. Did. I. Do?” He asked, emphasizing on every word. Jude laughed nervously, the sound all high and wrong. This wasn’t how Jude laughed, he knew that for sure by the other two times he made her laugh before.

“Well, you did a lot of things. You got drunk. You inhaled all sorts of powder. You bedded a fairie—or for what I know many fairies. Then you—”

“Jude,” He said, stopping her ramblings, “that all is usual.” Jude remained silent.

“Now tell me,” he said, lifting her chin up with one of his slender fingers. Jude gulped. “What did I do?”

“You wanted to kiss me,” she breathed, looking down at his lips. Cardan’s eyes widened but he didn’t dare to move, waiting for Jude to finish her sentence. “And I told you that you were drunk.”

Cardan blinked in alarm and embarrassment. He couldn’t have—could he? Surely, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to want to kiss Jude, again? Despite her betrayal? Despite her mortality? Despite her controlling his every move?

“Well, I’m not drunk anymore.” He found himself whispering before he could stop himself.

Jude looked up in alarm, frozen. Then, hesitantly, leaned closer to him. Cardan inhaled sharply, not quite believing what was happening.

"Cardan, kiss me...please." She said looking up at him, her eyes hooded and clouded with lust and longing. He was sure he looked the same.

"I—"

"Kiss me." And he did. He pressed his mouth firmly against hers. Sliding his lips over hers as she did the same. He gripped her by the head bringing her closer but it wasn't enough. Never enough.

"Jude," he breathed his voice coarse, "straddle me."

Jude complied, her eyes dark with want. Cardan whimpered as she settled herself over his lap.

“My dear Seneschal,” he breathed, leaning closer to her once again, “you don't know how long I’ve longed for this.” He said bringing his mouth to hers once again.  

[luimagines]

*walks on in shockingly calmly for once, hands you a mug of hot chocolate and a basket of cookies without elaborating* Just passing by to say hello, I wish you a good day and thank you for all your work in the fandom, happy late two years! Plus dropping some stuff about thief reader, as well as Cattle Raider Reader with Twilight that won't leave me alone in between writing for the Fairy Tale au and trying to swat an Assassin Reader with Warriors away from this ask, life's been difficult and I've recently became a dog parent for the second time and me and my older dog can definitely sympathize with Time and Twilight as a result, the pup has as much energy as Wild on caffeine and energy potions.

Thief Reader's first reaction to Warriors is definitely "Aww Captain! I thought we had something special!" While still shamelessly running a check on Time to make sure they didn't hurt him too bad during the initial scuffle, ruffle Wind's hair because while they missed their second partner in crime but have no idea wether he'd be receptive to hugs, then promptly introduce themselves as "The one person who couldn't compete against Link's one true love."

Time, baffled and who low-key had a crush on their older self and their current self before they were separated during the War of Ages: "I'm sorry?"

Thief Reader, fondly rolling their eyes and whipping out a mask that looks suspiciously like a golden wolf with red eyes and placing it over Time's face, and probably giving Twilight a heart attack in the process: "Yourself, obviously. I knew I couldn't compete with the legend and your desire to help people, if Malon and her highness couldn't talk you down from it then what chance did I, a lowly thief have? I'm selfish, I couldn't keep you from doing what you loved if I tried, but I couldn't see you get hurt either." *Shrugs, looking away* "... Besides, I did basically force myself into your journey, I helped, but I also burdened my first friend, between you and me that day on the portal, of course I'd chose you to survive and go back home in a heartbeat. It's the least I could do for you." *In a heartbeat, moves on while winking towards the Chain* "Well! That's enough of that, so they're all yours in a sense, mhm? Thank goodness none of you got his unfortunate nose." *Starts passing around all of the stolen items back, pauses at Twilight with a hum, head tilted as they put his neckacle back over his neck and hands Wild his Slate* "Oh, aren't you lot just precious, can I keep them Link?"

Time, taking the mask off with an unimpressed look on his face: "I can't believe you actually kept it, and no. They're not pups, Reader."

Thief Reader, crossing their arms: "I know and you know that's not what I meant! Learn how to share, besides they're much more well behaved than that nasty shadow I swindled recently."

Thief Reader had a tendency to steal a lot of items from Mask and vice versa since he learned how to be light footed from them, Thief's Reader's absolute favorites were his cap, earring and the masks, they wouldn't touch most transformation masks because some lines you just don't cross, they only steal the FD mask out of them in order to keep a young Mask from overusing the transformation with Wind's and Warrior's help once they explained what was up with it, and they repeat that behavior now with the Chain, as a result they know the Fierce Deity well because even if they wouldn't use the mask they probably kept it close enough to their face to talk to him into protecting and keeping an eye on Link in case they couldn't. They don't care he's a deity they can and Will throw it into the ocean if they don't care of him. Their favorite being a golden wolf mask they got from appeasing a Wolfos, they couldn't give it back to Mask before they were separated, but they kept it well maintained all these years to give it back to Time with the excuse of 'It suits him better than it ever did them' as they used it as a replacement to cover their face once they got older. They used a scarf to cover their face during their tenure as a thief when young and Mask ended up with it, so he gives it back now that he can finally return it (though they still sometimes end up swapping them back and forth on accident still, force of habit), also Thief Reader is the only one who can listen to him when he gets sneaky and is the only person in the Chain who doesn't jump, just makes sure to spook him back or they get together to covertly mess with the youngsters (Warriors is onto them but HATES that he can't gather proof, it's the War of Ages all over again).

As for Cattle Raider Reader aka the cousin of the Wild West inspired rivalry enemies to lovers au that I'm still not elaborating on, in medieval times there was this whole thing where different tribes or villages raided each other's cattle, either as war practice or as genuine stealing when times were rough, the idea here is that Reader is from a neighboring village from Ordon that engaged in the practice in a competive way and since Twilight was one of the best with a horse around, logically they clashed a lot to match Reader (Reader being the leader of the offensive village with Twilight trying to get Ordon's cattle back or defending it), as a result they had a very fierce rivalry/enemies thing going on before the twilight came. Reader came around to scout things out in Ordon for the next raid only to find out Twilight, the village children and Ilia are missing due to monsters, decide that something having happened to their rival was absolutely unnaceptable and set out to look for him, incidentally they run into an injured Wolfie at the beginning of the game (since ya know, Rusl actually burns Twi if you're not careful) and while at first they consider walking away because it's a wolf, the eyes reminded them of Twi and so they cave and help fix him up enough to go back to the quest and Midna before heading out, leading Twi to go "... Huh. Maybe they aren't that awful after all." And after a couple more accidental run ins during Twi's adventure and a more or less proper reunion in Castle Town after Lanayru, where they connect the dots that "Oh wait a second this wolf doesn't only have Link's eyes it IS Link" after seeing him try to sneak into the castle again with Midna, they help him out on the condition that they aid him in this questing business because like heck they're having their rival not come back home by being reckless and Hyrule is their home too, they're gonna help defend it. Things just spiral from there.

Their first introduction to the Chain is probably when the Chain is overwhelmed in Twilight's Hyrule, Twi recognizes he's near Reader's village and also realizes he didn't tell them where they went and while they're probably undoubtedly mad at him that it's technically the best shot for them all to make it in one piece. So he leads them there and Reader, who had spotted the battle in the distance and recognize Twi's horse, saddles up, grabs a sword or an axe, throws it onto the head of the nearest Lizalfo near Twi with unnerving accuracy, then turns to Twilight with the "You BETTER have a good explanation for this or else you're next" glare, Twi, who is too used to this at this point is just "Missed you too Reader.", While the Chain is just confused in the back on how Twi knows this person and why he's so chill even when they look like they would skin him as Wolfie to make a fur coat if not for the situation at hand (meanwhile other Chain members are probably having an epiphany of where Wild gets his fighting style from, because Cattle Raider Reader is ruthless, a menace and will grab anything on the battle field to throw at the enemies if their weapons aren't nearby).

Or something, I don't know I kind of have a headache so it's probably not flowing clearly, really need to write this all out in full one day...

Anyway, that's that for now! Once again thank you for all your work in the fandom, I'll definitely be coming on by to gush more about your writing omce I can so uh, fair warning, I can get rambly XD.

Hope you're having a nice day!

-Just an Anon on A Stroll/WintertimeStoryteller 🐚

Ok first of all- I have so much to unpack here XD

Thief Reader is giving me some heavy vibes of a fic I read once but with the roles reversed. I don't remember the name of the fic. To Steal a Thief's Heart? (doubt it.) But in that fic Link was the thief and rogue and it was awesome. If you're interested I can track it down and send a link. :D

I love that Reader shows up on the scene and is instantly back to their shenanigans all over again. Time doesn't even seem all that phased for the most part- maybe them shoving the mask onto his face was a blessing in disguise. He could hide his shock and gaping mouth, lol.

Time crushing on them twice was cute though. Love that. <3

TELL ME ABOUT THE WILD WEST STORY!!!!! WINTERTIME!!!!!!!!!!

This is insane!!!! Don't dangle that in front of me DX

The torture. Not fair.

BUT FOR THE ENENMIES TO LOVERS

Y e s. H E L L O. I'm listening. Intently. Gib. Gib more plz.

My god, I could see that reunion in my head so clearly. The axe nearly taking Twi's head off, him ducking without a second thought. The charging rage of Reader where they retrieve their axe and point it at Twi. And he's got a stupid (if sheepish) smile on his face.

Also it's ok. I love your rambles. Literally feel free to come by any day <3

[kanisema-blog]

My reflection mocked me in the dusty mirror lining my locker. Bloodshot eyes and tear stains traced a map of the emotional earthquake that had just rocked my world. I'd confessed my feelings for Liam, the boy with a smile that could melt glaciers and eyes that held galaxies. And his response? "Amelia, you're amazing. But… I think of you more like a friend."

"Magic mirror," I whispered, my voice choked with a sob, "Why did I even confess? Now I'm just another +1 to his list of friends."

The bell pierced the silence, shattering my fragile hope. I shuffled through the rest of the day, a ghost haunting the halls I once knew. Every stolen glance, every shared joke, felt tainted by his rejection. Was I always just "one of the guys" to him?

Weeks turned into months, each interaction with Liam a fresh stab to my pride. He remained kind, even oblivious to my inner turmoil. We hung out with the same group, shared inside jokes, and laughed together. But the laughter felt hollow, the jokes laced with unspoken heartache.

One day, as we sprawled on his living room floor, lost in a heated debate about a movie, a silence fell. Liam, looking oddly hesitant, cleared his throat.

"Amelia," he began, "I need to tell you something."

I braced myself, expecting another round of "friend-zoning." Instead, he said, "I know things have been awkward since you… well, you know."

My cheeks burned. "Yeah," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Thing is," he continued, his voice low and serious, "seeing you so sad… it made me realize something important."

He paused, and I dared to look at him. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, held a newfound depth.

"I realized that I…" he stammered, taking a deep breath, "I think I'm falling for you, Amelia."

My jaw dropped. Was he serious? Did the universe just hiccup and rewrite reality?

"But," he added quickly, "you don't have to feel the same way. I understand if–"

He was cut short by my laughter, a burst of genuine, joyous sound. "Oh, Liam," I said, tears welling up again, this time with relief. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words."

And that's how our love story, once a broken fairy tale, was rewritten. The boy who saw me as a friend finally realized the depth of his own feelings, and the girl who thought she was forever stuck in the friend zone found love blooming in the most unexpected place.

Years later, on a familiar park bench under the shade of a giant oak tree, Liam held my hand, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

"Remember when you called me a magic mirror gone wrong?" he chuckled.

I swatted his arm playfully. "Yeah, well, you weren't very magical at the time."

He squeezed my hand gently. "But sometimes, magic takes a little time to materialize, doesn't it?"

He was right. Our love story wasn't a whirlwind romance or a love at first sight cliché. It was a journey of friendship, heartbreak, and finally, the realization that sometimes, the greatest love stories bloom in the fertile ground of shared experiences, laughter, and a shared desire for connection. The "friend zone" became a stepping stone, a foundation on which we built a love story that defied definition, a love story that whispered its magic in the quiet moments, in the space between friendship and forever.pen_sparktunesharemore_vert

[byrdieprose]

A Fairy Tale

Once, not too long ago, in a land closer than you’d believe, there stood a village at the outskirts of a vast, sprawling forest. 

In the near centre of the forest, built into a tree stump the size of a dining table, was a shrine made of gold. It glimmered in the daylight and shone in the rain. It never rusted or melted or even got dirty - for in that shrine lived a powerful, benevolent fairy.

One day, a girl made her way to the centre of the forest. She trudged through brambles and blackberries, scratching her legs. She passed under sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her hair. She jumped through puddles and pits, staining her clothes.

When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a small dish of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, tempted, approached the girl and her dish. When it picked up the dish, the girl spoke.

“I heard you can grant wishes?” She asked.

The fairy nodded slowly, tilting its head as though to listen better.

“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be strong. So that I may help my mother and father in the fields. It is their wish, so it will be mine.”

The fairy, satisfied with the demand, rubbed its hands together, closed its eyes, and clicked its heels three times. The girl felt invigorated, like she could wrestle tigers and move mountains. She curtesied and thanked the fairy; it nodded a thanks and retreated back to the shrine.

The girl went home. Her parents were disappointed at her tattered clothes and cuts and bruises, but loved that she could knead bread, milk cows, churn butter, clean and cook and butcher animals without tire. She would work day and night, only stopping to eat and sleep. And because they were happy, she was happy.

———

Years passed, and once again the girl made her way into the centre of the forest. She trampled through brambles and blackberries, scratching her calves. She smacked away sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her hands. She jumped over puddles and pits, staining the hem of her dress. 

When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a bowl of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, recognising the girl, came and sat down with her and the bowl, taking messy, excited handfuls of butter and eating them. Then the girl spoke.

“Can you grant me another wish?” She asked.

The fairy paused, cleaned its hands, and prepared to listen.

“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be beautiful. So that I may find a suitor, and relieve my family of the burden of caring for me. It is their wish, so it will be mine.”

The fairy, in a near rush, stood and stretched out its arms, turned down its head, and clicked its heels two times. The girl felt light, and watched in a nearby pool as her face grew thinner and softer, her hair grew longer and shinier, and her limbs and hands became more slender. She bowed and thanked the fairy; it waved a thanks and retreated quickly back to the shrine.

The girl went home. Her family was once again disappointed by the cuts and scrapes she had endured, but now found her charming and sweet. She was married within the week, to a man with a large fortune, who proclaimed his love with a shiny gold ring. He loved her not just for her looks, but for her diligent housekeeping and field-tending. And because he was happy, she was happy.

———

Years passed, and once again the girl made her way into the centre of the forest. She traipsed through brambles and blackberries, scratching her ankles. She swatted away sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her fingers. She jumped across puddles and pits, staining her stockings.

When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a barrel of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, relieved to see an old friend, placed itself on top of the barrel, crossing its legs. Then the girl spoke.

“You know I’m here for another wish…” She said.

The fairy nodded, took her hand, and listened.

“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be wise. So that I may understand what is causing my husband such distress. It is his wish, so it will be mine.”

The fairy, solemnly, beckoned the girl closer to the barrel, kissed her forehead, and clicked its heels once. The girl felt a warmth blaze through her mind, and she felt she could empathise, calculate, and analyse with more efficiency than ever before. She hugged the fairy in thanks; It hugged her even tighter, and took the barrel back into the shrine.

The girl went home. Her husband was displeased at her tattered skin and clothes, but he found himself impressed by his wife’s newfound ability to keep up with his conversation and demands; her desire to please him, and the ability to predict what he wanted when he wanted it. And he was happy…

…But the girl was no longer happy. Her new intelligence had shown her what deep, unattainable demands she was completing, without a care. Her body was never tired, and her figure was never tarnished, and there was no problem she couldn’t solve - but inside, she was exhausted, and ruined, and stupid.

———

In the coming weeks, she tried to talk to her husband about her encounters with the fairy, in the hope that maybe they could work towards an equal partnership, so they could both be happy. But he wouldn't hear it - from the mere mention of the fairy, his face grew stark-cold. He turned on her, growing larger and angrier, forcing hand and knee and tooth onto her in rage. And so, fast as she could, she grabbed a thimble of butter and made her way into the centre of the woods. She ran, ran over the brambles and blackberries. She ran, ran under the sticks and spiderwebs. She ran, ran across the puddles and pits. 

She collapsed at the foot of the shrine, crying out to the fairy, thimble of butter held in her fingertips. She could hear her husband closing in, stomping loud footsteps, screaming like the braying of a boar. The fairy, sweetly, pulled her up to meet her at the doorway of the shrine.

For a time, no words were spoken. There was just the patience of the fairy, the silent tears of the girl, and the carnage of the husband, shouting and slashing his way closer. Then, shakily, the girl spoke.

“Please!” She begged, “Give me a pair of wings, so that I may fly to distant shores, away from the work, away from the dissatisfaction, away from the pain! It is my wish and my wish alone, but it is one I wish with all my heart and soul!”

The fairy, understanding, lovingly, kindly, embraced the girl, grabbing her shoulder blades, holding her close, and kissed her long and tight, as though they were lovers. There was a white hot light, and a beautiful warmth, as a pair of golden dove wings sprouted from the girls shoulders, right where the fairy had placed its hands. They continued to grow, larger and larger, stronger and stronger, until they were large and strong enough to carry horses into the air.

The fairy, sadly, finally, let go of the girl. And she took off, high into the sky, far above the forest.

The beast that the girl had once called her husband had reached the foot of the tree stump that carried the shrine. In his rage, he did not look up; he only saw straight ahead. He saw that a cruel, mischevious, malicious fairy had turned his wife against his better judgement and authority. He saw the gaudy, repugnant, golden shrine, meant to mock him own fortune. He saw the thimble of butter - the butter he had bought the cows for, so his wife could churn it, so that he could sell it. All around him, he saw traitors.

With all his strength, and all his fury, he struck his knife through the tree stump, cutting through the wood like cheese. As though by magic, a large crack appeared in the foundation of the shrine. He kept carving, one long, thick slice bisecting the stump, and the crack on the shrine continued to creep up from the foundation, slithering up and around, branching all across the structure.

In a quick moment, the stump was cut clean in two; the fairy ducked back into the shrine; and the building collapsed.

Satisfied with the pile of rubble that stood before him, the husband called for the girl. But she would not answer. He searched for her, far and wide through the clearing. But he could not find her. He shouted, and chided, and demanded that she follow him home. But she did not. In the following days, the village searched for her, all across the forest, even into the surrounding towns, all the way down to the shoreline. But she never appeared.

———

Years passed, as they do. The husband, the family, and the whole village mourned the girl, then forgot about her. In her place, stood a piece of advice - one whispered by old women to those in hardship.

If you wander into the forest, past the brambles and blackberries, past the sticks and spiderwebs, past the puddles and pits, you may find a cottage in a small clearing. Living in that cottage is a woman, who spends her days tending to her cows, as well as a sapling with a gold ring around its trunk, and a saucer of butter by its roots. The woman who lives there is stronger than an ox, more beautiful than a sunrise, and wiser than a poem, but most importantly she is kind, and sweet, and will love you for your authenticity.

And the golden feathers she drops might grant you a wish of your own.

[highdramas]

steady now | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, mention of death? sort of? mention of the blip mostly, some angst, references to sexxxx babie

word count: 4.3k wowie

summary: bucky is not the only one with amends to make.

note: here’s another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like! i’m extremely proud of this part so i really hope that you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <3

enjoy! <3

there was once a time where you loved california.

there was once a time where you had a boyfriend with an easy smile and charming demeanor and a family in ventura. his name was felix, and you always told people that he could make anyone fall in love with him with nothing but that stupid smile of him-- of course, you never said how that upset you. you never said how it hurt when the waitress looked at him with dazzling eyes and how he seemed to relish in the attention.

you never voiced how he seemed to eventually bore of the attention that you gave him. you never voiced the way that you wished he would look at you with those dazzling eyes and give you that breezy laughter and that look that said i have you in the palm of my hand.

he did. he didn’t need to give you that look to know that.

sometimes, you wonder if he felt any sort of relief after the blip. you wonder if when you dusted right before him, if he felt like he won in some sick way. of course, you know that he would never admit that. he would never make that known to anyone. maybe even himself. but subconsciously… you wonder if you were simply an accessory that was worn out of convenience, and if your fading from reality was the biggest convenience at all.

it’s sick. you know it’s sick, and likely not true. but still. you wonder.

when you returned, the first thing that you did when you got your hands on a cell phone was call him. you called him and you cried and you said that you were okay, you were here. you asked him what the hell happened. you asked him if it had really been five years.

you heard a voice in the background. it was feminine, light, airy. the voice of a fairy. you’ll never forget hearing that voice. you learned later that she was his fiance.

you’ll never forget the sort of heartbreak that you felt. it was visceral. the knowing-- the knowing that it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything that you did. it was merely the absence of you. you still wonder how long he mourned. you wonder how long it took. you saw him only a handful of times after you returned. he had cried, and you had stared, unsure what to say.

how do you apologize for fading from existence?

that was the first time you saw him. the second was worse.

the second, you were angry. you were angry and you lashed out. what was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into an explosion of tears and fury, the words this isn’t fair and what was i supposed to do? wait for you? and so desperately you had wanted to say yes. you wanted to say that you wished he had held out hope, that he stayed up and dreamt of you and that he was devoted.

it was a selfish thought. he had told you politely to not contact him again.

you had learned that he had moved back to ventura with his fairy girlfriend from some casual facebook stalking. they bought a house on the coast. they’re planning a wedding.. she is beautiful, and you noticed something from the pictures you see of them together right away. he looks at her not like he was charming her, but like she was charming him.

that’s what made you realize he was never yours to begin with.

now, you’re in california again. now, bucky sits beside you and he drives and you control the music. now, he looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky and propped up the moon. and you look at him the same way.

bucky has amends to make, but so do you.

when he reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, you smile. you place your hand over his and you squeeze. you’d insisted that you two rent a convertible, and though he rolled his eyes, he obliged. you drive down the pch and it is april and the sun is warm and inviting but not abrasive. he wears sunglasses and he doesn’t wear the gloves. he wears a short sleeved shirt.

it’s enough to make you smile and lay your hand back against the seat and make you think: everything happened just the way it should.

bucky is here to extend his amends to the chaplin family. well… really, he’s here to set them up with the CIA. they’ve been hydra sympathizers for years.

you, on the other hand, are here to extend amends of your own.

bucky knows. bucky knows and he watched you recall the story with tears blurring your vision. you would hiccup and say, “i’m sorry. i’m not sad over him, not anymore. i’m just sad that i could be forgotten so easily.”

he had held your face in his hands and he swiped at your tears and he said, “you’re impossible to forget.”

at first, when you brought up coming with him, he had been hesitant. his endeavors with the amends and with sam, he tends to like keeping separate. you get it. you know he doesn’t want to put you anywhere near the danger that he encounters, even if that maddens you. but then, your face fell and you held out the wedding invitation that had arrived in your mailbox. “i want to go.”

bucky takes it and he studies it and he clenches his jaw. he looks at you through his lashes. “i’m going with you.”

now, the wedding is in three days. you wonder if he was surprise when you sent in your rsvp marked yes. you were surprised that he invited you at all.

once, you remember him saying to you, “sometimes, you have to extend olive branches. you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

this is your olive branch.

bucky squeezes your thigh and his thumb makes small circles and it instills a calm in you that you haven’t felt since you stepped foot on the plane. he glances over at you. “we don’t have to go.” this isn’t the first time that he’s said this. “we can stay in our hotel all week. i’m sure we can find something to do.”

your jaw drops and you look over at him and he has that smug look on his face. it’s been nice, watching him slip into ease with you. “you are such a pig.”

“i’m just saying, we have options.”

you laugh and you swat his hand away. he grins and he places it on the head rest, his fingers idly playing with a few strands of your hair that blow in the wind as he drives. you pull up to the hotel and you check in and bucky carries all of your bags, which you try to object, but he simply does not care. you fall back onto the mattress and he follows suit and he presses his lips to yours, presses them to your pulse point, your jaw. he whispers against your skin that you are beautiful. he whispers against your skin that you’re an angel.

angel. he always calls you that.

hours pass and you spend most of them beneath bucky, breathless. eventually it is the middle of the night and you have done nothing but fuck and you’ll be the first one to admit that they were hours well spent. he’s propped up on an elbow and he looks down at you, dewy and heavy lidded. “why’d you want to come out here? to the wedding?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that’s what you want to talk about right now?”

he blushes, moves to hide his face, but you beam and you place your hand on the side of his face. you push yourself up and sit criss cross, holding the sheet to your body, facing him. he follows suit.

the two of you do this back home. whether you’re sitting on the living room floor or in bed. it’s easier to talk in the dark, bucky once said. you’d never forgotten. so, this became a sort of unspoken ritual. you would sit with your knees brushing and you would talk and you would laugh and you never wanted this to change.

“i guess i don’t know why i wanted to come.” you reach for his hand and he offers it to you. you run your fingers along the golden grooves, and you swear that you see the hairs on his opposite arm begin to stand up. “i didn’t want to be seen as the bitter ex. i hate-- i hate being perceived. you know? like, i can’t control how anyone views me. i can’t control them thinking i’m crazy or irrational. but… they don’t know anything at all.” bucky’s eyes never leave you. “i wanted to come because i feel like i’m ready to face it. the truth of it. i don’t feel fearful of it all. i used to feel so… gross. gross about how i reacted and how i felt. i felt so selfish. but now…” you can’t help but smile a little bit and you touch the place on his chest where his heart lies in his ribcage. “i’m glad for it. all of it. it’s stupid, but… it brought me here.” you lean your palm into his chest just slightly more. he covers your hand with his and he pulls you in, your hand splayed out on him.

bucky is softening before you. so often you are the one who offers an ear and a comforting touch, but he is happy to repay the favor whenever you need it. “you’re too strong all the time.” his words are definitive, with no room for arguing. “you were hurting. you’re allowed to hurt. you didn’t have a choice in missing out on five years while the world went on without you.”

of course, you know he’s right, but it just feels good to hear it. it feels good to hear it from him. “and he was an asshole.” bucky’s jaw sets. “he had five years to mourn you and your relationship. he barely gave you a month. what sort of guy does that? to a girl he loved?” he shakes his head, as if shaking the thought from his person. “if that were me, i would’ve…”

you watch as he trails off. he looks down and away. you gently take his face and move it up, getting him to look at you again. he gives you this smile that is equal parts sorrow and loving, and you wish you could take away all his pain. “i’d mourn you for life. and i… if i got the chance to have you again? i’d--”

“bucky.” you cut him off smoothly and you shake your head. “that won’t happen.”

he smiles. “i know.” he pushes your hair back and his hand rests on the back of your neck. “i just can’t imagine someone having you and not--” he shakes his head. “he’s a fool.”

gently, your hands lay on his knees and you lean forward. “you asked why i wanted to come,” you whisper, your lips nearly touching his. “i wanted to come because i want to thank him.” you press your lips against his, and his hand goes to splay on your back, pulling you in nearer and nearer. “he recommended the apartment building.”

bucky grins and you connect in every possible place. you roll between the sheets once more and eventually, sleep overtakes you.

the days leading up to the wedding pass by in a relative blur. bucky goes to make his amends and though you offer to come, he shakes his head. “i’ll be quick,” is his promise, and he keeps good on it. he’s gone barely two hours.

you spend time on the beach and sight seeing. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen bucky this… relaxed. yes, he’s always slightly more alert than your average citizen, but you will never fault him for that. you go and get ice cream and you sit on a little bench and bucky stares at you. “what?” you asked and you raise your brows. “something on my face?”

“actually, yes.” he reaches out and swipes your bottom lip, coming back with some strawberry ice cream on his thumb. he pops it into his mouth and it makes your heart plummet to your stomach. “yum.”

you all but drag him back to your hotel.

finally, it is the day of the wedding.

bucky has been ready for hours. he likes unbearably handsome-- you’d gone with him to a shop in new york and had helped him pick out some new slacks and a nice fitting shirt. he had chuckled at the way that the pants hit his ankles and said, “it’s definitely not the forties anymore.”

you had picked out a sage green silk dress, and you smooth it out in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you looked at yourself. bucky approaches you from behind and you’re so stuck in your own head that you hardly notice him until his hands are on you. they go to your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into tense muscles with his thumbs. “you look beautiful, doll.” he leans forward and he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, which makes you smile, because it’s so him. “i wanna kiss you but i don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

“like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“i’m a gentleman.”

a smirk works its way onto your face and some of the nervous, fluttering monarchs in your stomach have begun to dissipate. you turn and he gently holds your face, examining it. he opens his mouth to say something, laughs, and closes it. “i don’t even know how…” he clears his throat. you swear that tears prick at his eyes. “i don’t even know how to say how much… how perfect you are. i’ll never be able to say it properly.”

everything about james buchanan barnes makes you melt, and this is no different. you sigh and you lean your body against his, and he holds you ever close. “thank you for coming with me,” you whisper into the skin of his neck. “i needed you here.”

he holds the back of your head carefully. “i’d follow you anywhere, doll.” he pulls back and his hand holds your face, and the vibranium is like a kiss to your cheek. “may i kiss you?”

your lips part and you nod-- and he takes his time kissing you. he kisses you long and tender, making sure that you feel everything. sometimes you think that this is easier than talking for him-- this is the way that he can show you how perfect he finds you. it’s better than any words he could string together.

the ride to the venue is somewhat of a blur. bucky doesn’t take his hand off of you-- it’s constantly holding yours. from the car to the walk inside to taking your seats-- you can feel the eyes that are glued to you, but you can feel bucky’s hand in yours more. you can hear the muffled whispers of gossiping friends and family, but you hear bucky’s murmured complaints louder, and they make you laugh.

felix is at the altar already. he’s talking with a groomsman and he laughs at something and you smile a bit. he looks happy, you think. bucky’s arm is slung across the back of your chair and his fingers trail up and down your shoulder, his eyes fixed on you.

you turn to look at him, too. you lay your hand on his knee and your smile says your thanks over and over and over again. bucky’s eyes flick to the altar, and he sees that you’ve finally been noticed. felix may be looking at you, but you will never know. you are looking at bucky.

the ceremony is pretty. bucky’s bored, you think-- that thought is enough to make you chuckle. felix’s fairy girlfriend is exactly what you gathered from the pictures-- she is energetic and kind, she is sweet and beautiful. the more you think, the more you watch the way that felix looks at her, the lighter you feel.

a part of you had feared that you would never get over him. that you would never get over the what if. possibilities tended to haunt you, but now, being here… you had known for a long time that not only had you gotten over him, you had found something so much better than what you had. but it’s the thought that thrums through you that you were not expecting.

you can see this for yourself. one day. bucky at an altar in a suit, you in white.

you smile to yourself in your seat. bucky looks over at you. you look over at him, just for a moment. your heart feels full.

felix begins his vows. “carly,” he begins and he clears his throat. you can tell that he’s already getting emotional. “never did i once expect to find you. never did i expect to find someone who fit with me so… completely.” you watch as his hands shake as he holds the piece of paper. “but i did. and i’m so lucky it was you.”

his vows go on, and they are beautiful. through it all, you can sense bucky beside you, entirely attentive to you.

the reception is on the beach. the sun is setting, and it is stunning. the food is good and every gives speeches and toasts and you’ve been placed at a table with some friends that both you and felix had known. of course, when shit hit the fan with you and felix, you hadn’t exactly kept in touch, but they’re kind nevertheless. some recognize bucky, and the questions they ask make you cringe. “so… winter soldier,” one of them, kya, begins. “you actually did all of that bad shit?”

it takes everything in you not to lunge across the table. bucky’s hand finds your leg underneath the table, already knowing what you’d like to do. you open your mouth to interject, but bucky cuts you off. “hydra did.” he gives a clipped smile. it leaves no room for discussion.

they ask about the avengers and about thanos, and all of it makes you roll your eyes. they talk to bucky as if he’s a toy rather than a human being. as everyone is mingling, you see the couple beginning to approach your table. everyone cheers and scoops them up into hugs. it makes a part of you sad. not because of him, but because it’s another reminder of how life went on without you.

you and bucky stand and approach them. you can almost feel bucky’s hesitation as he sizes up felix. the protectiveness in his stance makes your heart swell. carly smiles at you, but you can tell that there’s a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “hi!” she says and she looks between you and bucky. “we were both so happy when we got your rsvp. a little surprised, but…”

your eyebrow raises and you look at them. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you place your hand on bucky’s arm. “felix, carly, this is my boyfriend, james. james, felix and carly.”

he shakes their hands and you note the way their eyes flick to the metal one on the other side. bucky and carly begin to make awkward small talk, and you look at felix. he looks at you. there’s something knowing in the stare. “want to take a walk?” he asks, nodding towards the beach.

you nod. felix turns to carly and you turn to bucky, who has a slightly concerned look written on his face. “it’ll be fine.” you lean in and you kiss him, wanting to take any insecurity from him. “play nice, but not too nice. if they say anything stupid, call them on it.”

bucky smirks. “you got it, doll.” he looks to felix and nods to him, and there’s something in bucky’s eyes that must scare him, because you swear felix pales slightly. and then you and felix set off.

for the first part of your walk, both of you are quiet. it’s as if both of you knew that this was inevitable, and now you’re just trying to figure out where to start. both of you begin to talk at the same time, and it causes awkward chuckles to fill the air between you. you stop by a log and you sit, staring out at the ocean. you cross your legs and you look over at him to find his gaze still on the ocean. finally, it moves to you. “i’m sorry.” you both say it at the same time.

a sad smile settles onto your face and you look away. “you first,” he says.”

“i’m sorry.” you look at him again. “i’m not sorry for the way that i felt. i’m not sorry for hurting. but i am sorry that i lashed out. i was… angry.” you suck in a breath. “people who stayed… they’ll always carry the grief and the trauma of those five years. but the people who came back? we came back to a world that had moved on. i can’t… i can’t explain to you how hard that was. it wasn’t just you. i lost everything.” you shake your head. “i took it all out on you. all that hurt. and i’m sorry for that.”

felix nods his head. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t more understanding of what you were going through. that i just… cut you off.” he swallows. “i had five years to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming back. even when you were back, it almost felt… fake. like i was looking at a ghost.” he swallows. “but i missed you. i want you to know that i missed you, and i thought about you.”

a small smile works onto your face. “thanks.” you look towards the crowd, where people are laughing and dancing. “she seems great.”

felix looks over his shoulder. “she is. she keeps me… in check. i can be kind of an asshole. i don’t know how either of you dealt with me.” this makes you laugh and roll your eyes. “you and bucky barnes, huh?”

“i have you to thank for that.” he looks at you in confusion. “the building you recommended me? we were neighbors.” you smile, thinking back on the memory of bucky barnes at your door, asking if you needed help building your cat tower. “he is the best thing that has happened to me,” you say it with no hint of hesitation.

felix smiles. “he looks like he’s crazy about you. he barely looks anywhere else.”

you bite down on your lip. “yeah, i’ve heard that before.” the wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you look at felix and he looks at you. “i’ve spent a lot of time being angry at you. i don’t want to be angry anymore.”

he shakes his head. “i don’t want to either.” he pauses. “maybe… maybe, one day, the four of us could… you know, get dinner or something.”

“yeah,” you nod your head. “one day.” you stand, and he follows suit, and you look up at him. “thank you. for inviting me.”

“thank you for coming.”

there’s a level of awkwardness that rests between you, and you think that perhaps it’s inevitable. but also, you can’t help the sense of relief.

part of you thinks that he’s itching to hug you, and you may be extending some forgiveness tonight, but you’re certainly not there yet. you begin to walk towards the party. “c’mon. you need to go to your bride.”

when you return, you think bucky might be ready to drive his steak knife through his eye. you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bending so that your face is beside his. “miss me?”

he snorts. “you have no idea, doll.”

you watch as felix makes his way to carly, and you meet his eye. he gives you a slight nod and a knowing smile, and you return it.

there’s a weight that’s lifted off of your chest.

“c’mon,” you say to bucky, tugging him up. “we’re going to dance.”

he groans and you laugh, pulling him by the hands to the dance floor. just as you are, you make me feel so young begins to play around you. as you step onto the dance floor, you begin singing the words quietly to him. your dancing slows to a light sway, and in your ear, bucky begins murmuring the words to you.

your eyes flutter shut and a sweeping calm comes over you. “you know… i never thought i would get married. did you?”

bucky’s hands have a firm place on your waist. “i grew up in the forties. of course i thought i was going to get married,” you two spin slightly. “but, after everything… i didn’t think that was ever going to be in the cards for me.”

your breath catches. “and now?”

“now?” bucky asks into your ear. “i can only dream i get lucky enough to have you as my bride.”

your cheeks grow warm. “mrs. barnes…” you lean back to look at him. “has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

the look on bucky’s face, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen that look before. “yes.” his voice is so firm it nearly brings you to your knees. “yes, it does.”

you two slow to a halt and bucky tilts your chin up. “guess i have some work to do,” his lips ghost over yours. “mrs. barnes.”

the world around you stops, and in that moment, it is only you and bucky. it is you and bucky at your ex’s wedding, and there is nowhere else you would want to be.

you’re beginning to understand why bucky likes making amends.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ]  Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here. 

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

 Can we talk for a sec?

 He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you. 

 “Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

 Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?” 

 Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

 You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

 “Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

 The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

 It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

 “Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been. 

 Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

 Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

 “I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do. 

 “It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

 “No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

 Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

 “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

 Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you. 

 “I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble. 

 “You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

 You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken. 

 “Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

 “Good.”

 You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

 “Thanks.”

 “See you in a few days.”

 “Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

 You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress. 

 He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

 So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

 Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. 

 Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable. 

 *

 Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them. 

 Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

 What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

 Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former. 

 Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

 The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

 Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

 Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

 He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

 “You’re bothering me.”

 “Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away. 

 It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

 “Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

 Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

 “Shut. The fuck up.”

 The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

 “We’ll see.”

 This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

 Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

 So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere. 

 Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong. 

 But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship. 

 Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t. 

 *

 Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

 It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

 “I missed you, Zacharias.”

 He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

 He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it. 

 “How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

 “They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew. 

 “Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

 “Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

 “No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

 “There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

 “Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke  that you’re still anxious around him?

 The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

 “Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

 Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

 “Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

 He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike. 

 His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight. 

 The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch. 

 When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice. 

 Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?” 

 Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

 “Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

 The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

 Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground. 

 But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would  be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

 *

 The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there. 

 He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.” 

 He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

 It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone. 

 The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

 And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

 Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture. 

 He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

 Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

 Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors. 

 It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

 Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

 He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides. 

 “Hey, stranger," you greet.

 Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

 “So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around. 

 You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

 Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

 “Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

 He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding. 

 “One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

 You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away. 

 “Rude,” you utter.

 He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

 “You know I’m smart.”

 Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

 He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't. 

 "I still don't get it."

 So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his. 

 "Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page. 

 Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen. 

 "Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head. 

 You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not. 

 But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles. 

 It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. 

 "God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us." 

 You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt. 

 He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin. 

 Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to. 

 “You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit. 

 You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours. 

 Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

 "Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers. 

 He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

 After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on. 

 *

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?" 

 You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question. 

 "Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

 Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured. 

 If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.  

 "Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?" 

 You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

 "Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you. 

 It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else. 

 You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him. 

 It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more. 

 You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc. 

 Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked. 

 You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?" 

 He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders. 

 The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

 When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see. 

 It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you. 

 Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him. 

 You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off. 

 You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest. 

 Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be. 

 You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

 Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip. 

 "Zeke," you breathe, body trembling. 

 "What is it, baby?" He coos. 

 "I—"

 He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand. 

 Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

 You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there. 

 Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good. 

 You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

 "Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time. 

 "It's getting late."

 Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration. 

 But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

 The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though. 

 Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them. 

 Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place. 

 After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car. 

 “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

 “Okay, yeah.” 

 He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

 Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car. 

 Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year. 

 The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort. 

 The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds. 

 You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much. 

 You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him. 

 It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend. 

 Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way. 

 He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you. 

 You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did. 

 "Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear. 

 He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear." 

 "Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say." 

 You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights. 

 It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups. 

 "Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no. 

 The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

 "'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine. 

 You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with. 

 "You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

 "I promise I'll behave."

 That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged. 

 So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea. 

 "Miche," you protest, drawing his name out. 

 "Just think about it."

 He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party. 

 As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen. 

 Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes. 

 "Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

 You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

 "We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

 "And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

 Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is. 

 There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before. 

 "Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward. 

 You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean it's weird and dramat—"

 "No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

 You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up. 

 "We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

 "Are you serious?" 

 You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm. 

 "As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life." 

 You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have. 

 He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on. 

 "His loss."

 "Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

 Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

 "Shut up."

 "I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

 "Excuse the fuck outta me?" 

 "In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

 This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it. 

 "We should change the subject."

 Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be. 

 "Why? Gettin' all worked up."

 "You are literally the worst."

 You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

 "Uh huh."

 He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him. 

 You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend. 

 Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else. 

 Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it. 

 It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong. 

 Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny. 

 "Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff. 

 "Why not?" 

 "'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

 He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

 "Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

 "I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

 Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

 "I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

 "So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

 You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now. 

 You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?" 

 Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

 "It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

 "Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

 "Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything." 

 He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

 But, he would never. 

 You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

 Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

 "I haven't seen your new apartment yet." 

 You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through? 

 "You sure?" He questions. 

 "Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

 "Are you sure?" 

 He must feel terrible. You can relate.

 "If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort. 

 "No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

 "Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

 You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help. 

 "Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

[asset35-maya]

Nice Things

Inspired by this spectacular drawing of long-haired Nines by @marndraws

Gavin Reed never had nice things.

Every day was a fight for survival. He studied hard, worked hard and did everything he could to come out on top… but he never had nice things. If he did, they wouldn’t last.

Then the most beautiful creature to walk the planet entered his life.

A sheer scientific miracle. A combined feat of engineering and art. The most advanced android ever built… and the kindest soul the mean city of Detroit had ever seen.

Nines.

Gavin had no idea how to interact with the RK900 in the beginning. If it were any other new partner he’d have been his usual abrasive self, but there was something about the android that left him dumbstruck. No insults came to mind, so Gavin stuck to silent cooperation (and obedience, actually).

The RK900 model was designed to be aesthetically pleasing. There was no doubt about that, but it was how the android carried himself that took things to another level entirely. Poise, elegance and flair touched everything that he said and did.

It extended to the way he transformed his appearance after deviancy. Nines shed his Cyberlife uniform with the harsh turtleneck and stiff jacket in favour of softer, more delicate garments. He still stuck to dark colours, but his clothes were all loose and flowing. He dressed more like an interior decorator than a homicide detective (and it honestly served him well).

Gavin often had to tear his gaze away from the refined fabrics and unconventional styles that Nines wore. Gavin never had nice things… but he certainly had an eye for them.

And then there was Nines’ hair…

When Gavin had first seen the change from the default appearance settings, he had to leave the station, find a quiet alley and focus on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Nines… for some unknown, wild, spectacular, unprecedented, utterly amazing reason… had decided to lengthen his hair and let it hang loose around his shoulders.

The dark tresses were as expressive as the android himself. They danced when he laughed. They whipped the air when he animatedly told a story with his steel blue eyes flashing. They shone in every damn light.

Gavin couldn’t help but stare. He never had nice things… but he was drawn to them.

Not a day went by that he didn’t want to reach out and tuck the fine strands behind Nines’ ear, but he held back from giving in to such insanity.

Nines didn’t hold himself back though.

For all the times Gavin had been looking, so had he. He made his move in the middle of a very boozy Christmas party at the DPD. It didn’t take much of an effort. They left the party together on the flimsy pretext of Nines showing Gavin his Christmas lights at home… and promptly fell into bed together.

Gavin had never had nice things… but he knew exactly what he wanted, and when they were presented to him on a silver platter, he knew how to take them.

Nines’ hair was as soft as he imagined and even silkier than he dreamed. He couldn’t stop running his fingers through the lifelike synthetic fibres and Nines couldn’t seem to get enough of his touch either.

Bliss.

On the third anniversary of the Christmas party, the pair found themselves in very much the same position, only that they didn’t actually make it to the mindless office event this time. The day started and ended in bed.

Fairy lights glittered and tastefully-chosen tinsel framed the snow-laden windows of their loft apartment. The large Christmas tree emanated a warm glow that reached even the bedroom where they lay tangled in the sheets.

Nines was draped over Gavin’s chest, his fingers skimming idly across the warm skin.

“Sweetheart…”

“Nines.”

Gavin’s wary tone of voice made the android laugh. A velvet sound that the human would follow to the ends of the earth.

“What’s the thing you love most about me?”

Gavin exhaled loudly, hugging Nines closer.

“Baby, you know I ain’t good at words and shit.”

“I’m not asking you to write me a poem. Just tell me what you love most about me.”

He sighed and stared at the ceiling.

“Is this a test?”

“I don’t have to test you. I know everything there is to know about you. I can read you like a book even with my analysis software turned off.”

“Uh huh. Then why the inquisition?”

“Because validation is nice.”

Gavin snorted and carded his fingers though Nines’ gorgeous hair.

“Guess I can start by applauding your honesty.”

Nines hummed, rubbing slow circles into Gavin’s pec with his thumb. A few minutes went by and Gavin began to drift off to sleep.

“So what’s more attractive to you? My personality or my looks?”

Gavin’s eyes snapped open in alarm.

“What the ph-”

“There’s no right or wrong answer. Just tell me.”

Nines propped himself up on his elbows and peered into Gavin’s face. It was truly a magnificent sight. Two piercing blue eyes… plush lips curling into a smirk… a cyan LED… and a perfectly arched eyebrow. A pale, angular face… framed by sweeping curtains of dark, glossy hair.

Gavin gulped.

“I can’t choose. You’re the total package.”

“Cop out.”

“Pfffft. You tell me then. What do you like better? My mug or my sharp wit? Hah. Betcha can’t answer that for all the complex calculations your supercomputer brain can do.”

Nines tossed his hair over his shoulder and elevated himself further, pressing his forearms onto Gavin. His fixation with the human’s muscular chest was no secret.

“I can.”

“Huh.”

“You hardly said anything when we first met so I had nothing to go off for your personality-”

“Maybe I was mysterious and aloof and ya just couldn’t resist.”

“No, I actually thought you were kind of slow. All your medals and service awards didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Wowww.”

“So it had to be your body. Why else would anyone keep you around?”

“Is that why you stuck around too?”

“Maybe.”

“You little-”

Gavin reversed their positions on the bed, flipping Nines onto his back and curling huge biceps around his lithe body. Nines tipped his head back to allow Gavin to drag his teeth across his throat and latch onto his collarbone. Some moments passed like that until Nines regained control by hooking a leg over the human’s waist to slow him down.

“Fine. I confess. It was the leather jacket.”

“Seriously?”

Nines dug his heel into Gavin’s coccyx.

“It was everything about your appearance that you had control over… or weren’t born with at least. For instance, your face is conventionally attractive, but it’s all the lines and scars and little things that made me wonder what kind of a life you’d lived… what you might have gone through... how you came out stronger. And yes, your body is a temple, but it’s the work you put into it that I admire. You know how to take care of yourself and that’s…”

“Hot?”

“Hot.”

Nines accepted a rather sloppy kiss with grace. He rubbed his hands up and down his partner’s back.

“So. Tell me. What was it for you? What is it for you?”

Gavin’s right hand subconsciously found its way into Nines’ long hair and caressed his scalp. He sighed into the crook of Nines’ neck and took in the familiar scent that was neither entirely human nor entirely artificial. Everyone expected androids to smell like a new car but the fact was that each of them had their own unique smell. It was impossible to describe in words, but it was one of the many many things Gavin loved about Nines.

“Babe, I think you’re asking a shit ton of questions, but none of them are what you actually wanna ask.”

“Say more.”

“Gavin, do you love me because I look like a Greek god or is it because I’m smart as phck? Gavin, what did you notice first about my sexy android ass? Does the same thing get you off today, or is it something else?

I think… there’s something you already know… or something you think you know… and you’re just trying to get me to say it and dig myself into a giant hole.”

Nines didn’t respond but his LED did. Gavin chuckled and pressed his lips to the spinning yellow light.

“Called it.”

Nines rolled his eyes.

“It’s my hair, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Admit it, you’re obsessed with my hair.”

“And you’re obsessed with my tits. We take turns objectifying each other. First sign of a healthy relationship.”

The android’s sharp nose scrunched up at a particular word and Gavin closed his eyes in resignation. Despite his best efforts he’d walked right into the trap.

“Dammit, babe, I didn’t mean it like that. I would never ever see you as an object-”

“My, my… we’re lying here two years to the day we became…”

“A thing.”

“Yes. And here I am reminiscing about what made you even look at me in the first place… and it turns out the credit goes more to Cyberlife than it does to me.”

Gavin groaned while his lover’s tinkling laughter rang out. He had to think fast if he had to turn the tables.

“So I’m that slow?”

Nines looked back at him, confused.

“You just dragged MY instincts. Like I’m dumb enough to fall for a program written by some geeky little code nerd. Like it was all totally predetermined and I didn’t see you tease and flirt and practically fall over yourself trying to get my attention for months. Huh?”

Gavin tightened his grip and gave his partner an affirmative shake.

“All those outfits and nail colours and pointy shoes and sparkly, shiny things. You saw me looking and you just kept stepping it up.”

He grasped Nines’ jaw and kissed him firmly.

“And your hair, baby… yeah, some genius worked on the tech at some point… but they didn’t tell you how to wear it. They didn’t tell you about the length or cut or angle. They didn’t tell you to walk around looking like a phcking prince. They didn’t tell you to roll the car windows down on the highway so your hair could fly in my face and drive me phcking crazy…”

Gavin thrust his fingers into the dark locks and pulled the android back in for a series of open-mouthed kisses and tantalising swipes of his tongue. Nines started to reciprocate physically, but Gavin swatted his hands away, not wanting to let things go further without making it clear who had gained the upper hand in their ridiculous game. He broke away panting.

“I love you. Don’t ask me why because there isn't one single reason. And I phcking love your hair. Not just ’cause it’s pretty but ’cause you’re the only motherphcker in that precinct who’d show up to the gristliest of crime scenes looking like a runway model.”

They stared at each other. Nines’ LED flickered.

“I… wow, sweetheart… okayyy… I… love you too.”

A moment of silence passed and Gavin rounded things off with his classic double wink.

“You’re welcome.”

Nines smiled, accepting defeat. He reached up and carefully rearranged his hair, letting it fan out on the pillow. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Gavin dipped his head down and returned his lips to Nines’, kissing him under the covers until his LED spun bright blue.

Gavin Reed never had nice things… until he learnt how to take good care of them.

//

Part 2: Red Dress

[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

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

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

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

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

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

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

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

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

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

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[its-snicket-here]

Is it okay if I have a short imagine of wynly elf!milf and Tuare? ( And Sebas ) like mum just wanted to have some normal girls tea party in her personal garden, nothing but netural yet semai pletonic vibe here

( I kinda imagine the the mum have her mini area full of different plant life like a very massive green house )

Yes, of course!

Indeed she does have a mini garden that she grows all by herself that none of the Floor Guardians have access to unless have permission. Tis a shame that certain parts of the garden... has some... liking for flesh when unfed for a few months when coming in uninvited... :)

[Location] Gardens by the Bay, 18 Marina Gardens Drive, Singapore 018953

[Source] https://thevintagetable.com.au/vintage-high-tea-china-cutlery-hire-perth/

---------

Dressed in your less extravagant clothing and more like a commoner, you held your hair in a tight bun as you watched the water flow by. Your tail brushed against the grass lazily, as your horns were garbed with vines flowers with your butlers' help. Dimitri stood besides you, still in his knightly attire. Though he merely became a statue after he noticed that he'll be not be in use for now. Though there are many flowers and plants, the floral aroma wasn't too intoxicating that could kill the sense of smell. The seat in font of you still stood empty.

The table was simply covered with a white cloth, elegantly decorated with fine china and two 3-tiered platters filled to the brim with sandwiches and sweets. Hearing wind chimes echoing through the garden. Seems like your guest has arrived. Snapping your fingers, the flowers on your horns glowed softly, releasing tiny fairies out in the air.

[Summoned Pixie Fairies - Helpers: Activated]

They all danced in vibrant colors, flying around the plants to give them a much more lively look. Though they dare not to change the garden as much. They kept the garden ancient, knowing that it's how you liked it. Though the garden isn't grand nor tidy, you enjoy seeing the garden give in a more natural and ancient outlook to it.

"Guests."

"Guests!"

"We see guests!"

"We see mistress' guests!"

"Hurry!"

"Hurry!"

"Seal the dangerous plants!"

"Make mistress happy!"

The Pixies' chattered through the winds. Though they only chimed and jingled, but when listened closely you could hear what exactly what they're saying. Slinking into the chair even more, you still silently awaited for your guests to arrive.

-----------

Everywhere she goes, Tuare is amazed and awed. When she first received a letter from the supposed Lady (Y/N), Lord Ainz's mother, she was shocked. The Lady (Y/N) wants to have a tea party with mere mortal like her?

Many flowers and trees of all kind, what she knows and don't, awed her. Tuare heard through the words of the other maids about the rumored "The Queen's Glade," and the wonders inside. But nobody had the permission to go inside, as it was Lady (Y/N)'s personal quarters. So it was hard to deduce if it was grand as what the maids say, but everyone knows it will be grand. Why wouldn't the garden be grand? That would be an insult to the all powerful, wonderful, merciful, kind Lady (Y/N)! Everyone would be honestly envious if somebody else here were invited to visit the Queen's Glade by Lady (Y/N) herself.

And of course, when Tuare is around, there is a certain butler tagging along behind. Though Sebas never visited the rumored Queen's glade, he was slightly proud that he was the first person to witness the Queen's personal garden with Tuare. Before the 41 supreme leaders had abandoned them, he had once overheard Lord Ainz and Lady (Y/N) discussing about the glade. He was put back on how ancient it actually looks, as he expected it would be neat and tidy - but he doesn't mind. It was rather soothing to see that is much more ancient and natural to the look.

The deeper the two went, the more ancient and glamorous the garden went. Flowers that were big as Tuare opened up, filling the atmosphere with more sweet smelling aromas.

"W-wow... I suppose this is what the rumored 'Queen's Glade' would look, Sebas." Tuare spun around, still in her disbelief that she'll be the first to be personally be invited by Lady (Y/N) here.

"It would be so, Tuare." Sebas agreed, "Though, we should be hurrying. We shouldn't keep Lady-"

"Guests!"

"Guests!"

"Come!"

"Come!"

"Follow!"

"Follow!"

Chanted the pixies. Many flew by and swirled around Tuare, slightly going forward in the midst of their flight. They continued to lead Tuare towards their mistress, while a bunch of other pixies dragged Sebas along. A funny sight to behold. An old butler being clinged onto a bunch of tiny pixies like magnets. You chuckled softly, amused seeing Sebas' situation on handling your rather pushy pixies summon.

Pulling up a seat for Tuare, your tail gently swatted away the pixies that continued to circle around. The pixies that clinged on Sebas soon dispersed like confetti, following their brothers and sisters to care the garden. Though they also kept a watchful eye on your quests, ready to throw them out if they displeased you in any way possible.

"Come. Take a seat, Tuare." Pulling the seat out even more, you guided her to sit down across of yours. Tuare stared at you in amazement, in disbelief that she'll be seeing the Queen in her grand form - even if she was dress in commoner's clothing. Though, not wanting to disappoint you, she obeyed. Seeing Sebas making for a reach to pour out some tea, you snapped your tail on Sebas' hand. Giving him a simple head shake, you frowned.

"Let me handle this Sebas. You can take a seat with Miss Tuare."

"Lady (Y/N), please let me handle this. You only invited-"

"Sebas, are you questioning my ability to act like a hospitable host?"

"No, Lady (Y/N)."

"Then take a seat and let me be host I am." Sebas only stood behind Tuare, seeming to refuse to sit down to join in with the tea party. You huffed, giving you a slight reminder that Sebas is slightly stubborn with the idea of sitting down along side with the Supreme Leader(s) in whatever shape or form. Even if he was given permission to, he still refused the offer.

"L-lady (Y/N)-"

"Please, Tuare. Call me (Y/N)-"

"But, my lady! It'll be simply an insult towards you!" Tuare interjected. She slightly stood up from her seat, slamming her hands on the table. Sebas slightly moved, but stopped when you raised your hand. Telling Sebas to stand his ground. "Thanks to you creating Lord Ainz, I have been given mercy to live for another day! I'm simply a mortal compared-" Tuare froze in mid sentence, as she already saw a mere fraction of your power coming in action. In an instant, you were already right besides her, gently putting her back in sitting position. You gave her a small closed eye smile, tilting your head slightly to the right. You placed a hand her shoulder, giving her some comfort.

"Please, Tuare. I insist. Call me (Y/N)..."

[lemontwst]

nessun dorma | 00

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:  〝 He laughed.   My darling,   you will never be unloved by me. You are too well tangled in my soul. 〞

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: harem x m/f!reader - the reader is gender neutral in this prologue. 

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: cyoa + smut

"Are we there yet—?"

You huff, your footsteps obnoxiously heavy as you walk through the grass. Crickets and ladybugs move out of the way, annoyed by your ungraceful waddling. A moth rests on your companion's back and you lazily swat it away.

Mira gives you an exasperated look from over his shoulder, his emerald eyes flickering like there's fire inside them, "It hasn't even been ten steps since the last time you asked." he turns his head away, ignoring you when you stick your tongue out at him.

You can't help being tired after trudging behind him barefoot for what feels like hours with absolutely no indication as to where you're going. Your feet hurt, the damp summer heat of the evening is starting to let up but you're still hot and sweaty and, now that you think about it, maybe a little bit peckish too.

"Mira…" 

He turns his head immediately, worried about how feeble you sound, and regards you with a stare most people would find intimidating.

His eyes are so peculiar. Like green gems that are constantly glowing. His pupils are slitted like a snake's and you've seen them shrink with displeasure and enlarge with curiosity and affection.

… His pupils are always large when he looks at you, even now as he patiently waits for your next complaint.

"I'm tired and my feet are starting to hurt… can't you at least tell me where we're going?"

This makes him stop in his tracks so abruptly you bump against his back.

"Oof—"

Before you can bring your hands up to your tender nose, Mira is cradling your face and tilting it up, clawed hands resting on your skin gently, like you're made of glass.

His face is a dispassionate mask as he checks on you, but you know him well enough to recognize the taut apprehension on his features. His thumb brushes against your cheek and your heart gives a little flutter.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" he sighs, sounding like a parent scolding his reckless child.

He slowly lets go of your face, his fingers lingering for as long as they can like they always do whenever he touches you, as if pulling away is physically painful to him. Then he kneels in front of you like he's about to propose and grabs one of your feet, forcing you to balance on one leg like a flamingo.

He brushes away the green stains of grass from your skin with his thumb, checking for scratches and blisters, looking visibly relieved when he doesn't find any.

"You humans are so fragile."

You scoff at that. Not everyone can be as perfectly impassible as him. Seriously, you've been walking under the sun all evening and Mira still manages to look like he's ready for the royal ball. His raven hair falls perfectly around his boyish features, and his face is the color of marble and completely void of any sign of exhaustion unlike your sweaty, flushed one. 

… Damn his superior fae genes.

"You didn't answer my question! Again!" You pout and grab one of his horns, giving his head a little shake.

Mira chuckles—a low sound in the back of his throat—and swats your hand away, but when he looks up at you, a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue, his eyes widen and he freezes in place, starstruck.

…

"... Don't do that." He slowly stands up, and since he pretty much towers over you, your hand is naturally forced to let go of him. You completely miss the slight shiver that runs through him when your palm brushes hard against the smooth, black bone of his horn.

"What?" You tilt your head and blink as he avoids your eyes. Did you hurt him when you grabbed him? That's new, he usually doesn't mind—

"That face." He mutters, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the underbrush ahead.

…

Oh.

A faint smirk makes your lips quiver, but you swiftly adjust your expression. You cup his face much like he did a few seconds before and force him to look at you, suppressing a laugh at how utterly startled he looks.

"You mean this face?" Your long lashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips curve into a small pout.

Mira blinks once, twice—his features are lax like he's in a daze and that somehow makes him look even more handsome than usual, brow crinkled and lips parted slightly. His slitted pupils trace a slow path from your eyes to your lips. You make a kissy face at him and you think you see him blush, but you can't tell for certain because he hastily pulls your hands off him and turns away.

"You… you're tired, aren't you? I can carry you the rest of the way."

You can't help but chuckle at how awkward he sounds and how stiff his shoulders look, but you decide to have mercy on him and obediently climb onto his back when he leans down to give you easier access. He often carries you like this when you get tired from playing, lifting you like you weigh nothing in a way that makes you swoon. He used to do it princess style, but being carried like that was pretty damn embarrassing so you compromised by going with piggybacks instead.

“My hero.” you smile and nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair—you don’t need to see his face to know that he looks pleased.

…

...

“...So where are we going?”

“Deerlet—” Mira groans, still using his affectionate nickname for you even though you're really testing his patience today; you just laugh and kick your legs in response, profoundly amused by his discomfort. The silvery bells of your delighted voice join the varied sounds of the fairy woods; a small woodpecker flees from tree to tree right above you, startled by your giggles and you glance at it with an apologetic smile on your face.

Deerlet—it's what he called you the first time you met him, 'because you looked like a frightened baby deer'.

You believe him, considering how terrified you were after getting lost in this same forest all those years ago. You must have gone pale as a ghost when you saw him come out from behind a tree, dressed in black from head to toe with horns that looked like a demon's. He often forgets to mention that he looked just as surprised as you—you can't imagine he expected to find a human child so deep in the fairy forest.

Unbeknownst to you, in your panicked stumbling you had almost reached the thick wall of thorny vines that separates your village's side of the forest from the Valley of Thorns, somehow ending up on the opposite side of where you had wanted to go. 

You’d completely filled out your miracle bingo card by not only finding another person in the woods, but a fae who knew how to get you back to your village and who offered to help you without asking for anything in return.

There was no particular reason why he helped you, Mira had once told you as you laid on the grass together and looked at the stars—he just found you pitiful and had an inkling you would have pestered and chased him around until he actually agreed to show you the way home. He was right, of course. Scary fae or not, you would have risked being hurt by a weird-looking stranger rather than being left all alone in the woods any day of the week.

And you were glad you met him, as he became your closest confidant and best friend after that day, always waiting for you to join him at the edge of the forest but never coming out of the treeline. He was very adamant about never visiting your village, no matter how much you begged him to come play at your house. It seemed like he didn't particularly care for humans, with you as the only exception. He didn't wish to meet your parents nor your other friends (he actually got visibly upset if you mentioned being friends with people other than him, so you quickly learned not to bring that up).

Even though Mira makes you feel loved and cared for like no one ever did before, he still hides so many things from you—you don't even know his surname, for one. You think he might come from the Valley of Thorns but he never gives you a straight answer when you ask him about it, and sometimes he just… disappears for weeks without telling you, and you never find out where he went.

You've learned to deal with all his oddities over the years, so you didn't question him today when he told you he wanted to give you an early birthday present before dragging you this deep into the woods.

He warned you he wouldn't be able to celebrate your sixteenth birthday with you tomorrow, so you agreed to spend time with him today to make up for it.

Shaking yourself out of some oddly nostalgic thoughts, you nuzzle the top of his head again and sigh, mentally kicking yourself for thinking about his secrets and making yourself sad. You can't help but smile in his hair when his hands grip the back of your thighs a little harder, a gesture most people would consider too intimate to be just friendly, almost as if he sensed your doubts and wanted to push them away.

Despite everything, you still trust Mira with every fiber of your being. That's why the macabre words he speaks next don't bother you as they would had he been anyone else.

"We're going to a place where no one will ever find you…" He trails off, his voice going back to an arrogant monotone. He might act all cool and aloof but you know he's thinking about making you happy when he picks up the pace, his long legs carrying him much faster now that he doesn't have to worry about you keeping up with him.

"... so that I can kill you without anyone knowing."

You don't care enough about your surroundings to notice how the forest goes eerily quiet. Quiet, like a watercolor painting with the colors suddenly fading to grey. The birds stop singing, the woodpecker whose chirps accompanied your banter stops talking, and the cicadas stop crying.

There's just your soft breathing lingering in the air and the light sound of Mira's footsteps against the grass.

"Yeah okay, Tsunotaro," You stifle a yawn, briefly wondering if you'll be able to take a power nap before you get to wherever Mira is taking you, "You could have told me that before we left. I didn't even get the chance to write my will."

Mira chuckles and suddenly the forest is alive again. The gentle summer wind rustles the leaves above you and caresses your face, flycatchers and wood doves sing happy little tunes and fat bumblebees buzz from flower to flower blissfully. Nature is joyous and alive all around you and it makes you even more eager to find out what Mira has in store for you.

—

You arrive at a clearing in the woods just as the twilight starts giving way to the night. The edge of the sky is a brilliant orange that fades to purple and then to blue, a few diamond-like dots already freckling the sky like someone is skillfully placing them with the tip of a brush.

But you've seen this masterpiece of a sky before, it's what's below that makes your jaw drop as Mira slowly comes to a halt.

A bed of black roses stretches as far as your eyes can see, gently swaying in the breeze, petals and leaves twinkling with sparks of fairy dust. The view looks almost unreal, like a picture from a fairytale book and you strain your eyes trying to take it all in. You think you've been to this place with Mira before, but the roses definitely weren't there last time.

"Mira—!" You sound almost scandalized as you climb down his back as fast as your limbs allow you. "Did you—did you plant all of these?!" You take a few steps towards the flowers, the grass satisfyingly wet under your feet, then turn back to face Mira with eyes the size of plates.

…

You think you're seeing things when Mira smiles. It's a goddamn genuine, happy smile. You can count the times you've seen him grin like this on the fingers of one hand. His smiles are usually just… arrogant quirks of the lips, but this? You could stare at his face forever.

"Well, I don't know if you can technically consider it planting if it's done with magic, but yes, I did." 

Magic. Of course, Mira is stupidly good at magic (and pretty much everything else, you hate to admit), but this—you struggle to make a single flower grow, let alone bloom. You can't imagine that this was an easy task for a fairy as young as him.

"How long did this take you…?"

He actually seems to get a bit shy at that.

"... A couple of weeks. I could have done it faster but finding the time to come here was not… easy."

Two weeks. Your heart soars in your chest. He doesn't always have the time to play with you—he confessed to you he rarely has time for himself at all—and yet… and yet he still did all of this for you, on top of coming to see you as often as he could because he knew you were waiting for him. Two weeks. 

"Oh, Mira…" You close the distance between the two of you and throw your arms around his neck, giggling at how quickly he hugs back, lifting you off the ground with his strong arms around your waist.

"Thank you, I love you!" You place a quick kiss on his cheek, not thinking much about what you're saying because you're so excited. It's not like you don't mean it, but you are a naturally affectionate and bright person, and the words ‘I love you’ fall easily out of your mouth when you're talking to your friends and family. They all accept your feelings graciously, except for Mira who always seems to falter whenever you say it to him.

You hear his breath hitch and suddenly his hold on you is so much tighter—so tight it almost hurts, but being in his arms always makes you feel oddly safe, even when he straight up squeezes you.

"I love you too, I want you to be happy for all eternity." He lowers you so your feet touch the ground but keeps you pressed against him, face buried in your neck. 

"That's impossible, silly… but I am always happy when I'm with you." You run your fingers through his hair, then follow the line of a horn with your fingertips, making him shiver against you. 

"...Then it doesn't have to be impossible." Mira raises his head and you stop breathing. The tips of your noses almost touch, his impossibly green eyes burning into yours with so much determination you almost take a step back, overwhelmed by how much emotion he's showing. 

"Uhm...what?—" He's so close. His eyes suddenly dart to your lips and you think your heart might just collapse. But then he sighs, his warm breath hitting your lips, and pulls away, looking behind you at the vast bed of night-colored flowers.

"Nevermind. Let's go watch the stars."

You think you got whiplash by how fast he changed the subject

"Wait, what? You want to lay down on a bed of roses? Mira, those usually have thorns."

Mira ignores you in favor of stepping into the flowers. He picks one up in a fluid motion that makes you jealous at how graceful he always is, then hands it to you. You get closer to inspect the flower, and your eyebrows raise in a surprised arch when you realize the stem is completely smooth apart from a few leaves.

"I grew them without thorns," Mira suddenly glares at the flower like it's slighted him, "I couldn't have you pricking yourself on my gift. I would have to burn this entire meadow to cinders if that happened."

… You barely keep yourself from rolling your eyes. He’s such a mother hen. He probably worries about your safety more than your own mother!

…

But you have to admit it's also a little bit endearing, in a… 'play croquet with a helmet on and pillows tied to your limbs' kind of overprotective way.

"Right, let's hope I don't give myself a papercut with the leaves then."

Mira looks absolutely horrified.

"Mira no—"

—

Stargazing with him is always so relaxing. His voice is smooth and pleasant and you could listen to him talk about the constellations forever, his knowledge of the night sky as extensive as his magical prowess.

When you turn your head and see him lying there on a bed of roses, eyes to the sky as he gives you a long tirade about some promiscuous god turning his lover into a bear, you find him more beautiful than you've ever seen him.

… He's so clearly not human that it makes your chest tighten with longing.

He looks about the same age as you, but while your body has changed and developed these past few years, Mira hasn't changed a smidge since your first meeting. You know he's much older than you… but he’s never told you his exact age, so you've always quietly wondered. 

He turns to you when he notices you're not listening, and when he catches your forlorn expression the words die in his throat.

He stares at you for a long time, then turns his body towards you and lifts himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with blazing emerald eyes as he rests his head on one hand.

He smells like cherries and roses, it's a familiar smell that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy.

"... Can I ask you something?"

Your brow crinkles at that. He's usually too arrogant to ever be afraid to say what he wants to say, but now he looks almost… anxious? Insecure? It's an expression you've never seen on him and you find it hard to describe.

"If you… ceased to be human..." It might be because it's nighttime, but his eyes seem to be glowing like campfires.

"If—hypothetically speaking—you could live for centuries like me… would you..." He pauses, then looks away with a frown. It takes him a few seconds to collect himself, but when he finally speaks again he sounds much softer, almost vulnerable.

"(y/n)..." The way he says your name makes you shiver. You hear it so rarely from his lips since he usually prefers to call you Deerlet that every time he says it you find yourself unable to speak.

He cups your cheek and admires your features, slowly brushing his thumb against your soft skin.

You're so soft compared to him. The emotion in his eyes is something akin to devotion, but more intense.

So beautiful, so fleeting.

"Would you stay with me forever...?" he mutters softly. His bright eyes roam over you, seeming to drink you in, as if to assure himself that you’re actually there with him.

 ...

 You frown at the strange question.

Why does he look so sad…? Did something happen while he was away? Worry pools in your ribcage, your hands compelled to reach out and touch him as if he cast a spell on you.

… But you don't, because he's still waiting for an answer.

 —

❥ Would you choose to live forever if it meant staying with Mira for the rest of your eternity?

⟶ Yes. Of course you would. Mira is the most precious existence in your life. You often fantasize about being young forever with him, to never grow old, to be held gently in his arms until the end of time. Knowing that this will never happen is enough to break your heart in two.

⟶ No. It’s not like you don’t love Mira, but living forever would be too much. How could you stand to watch as everyone you love slowly leaves you behind? How could you survive that kind of cold, lonely life? You can’t depend on just one person alone forever. It’s time to go home now, your parents are waiting for you.

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[belleta]

The Forest - Part One

Consists: Supernatural, SKZ as different SN creatures, adventure, romance, drama, action, ......still trying to figure out all the details....lol XD

"Come on Y/N!", I was racing around the house. Trying to make sure I had everything for this trip. "Omg Y/N, let's GO~!" I swear to the universe she's going to thank me later. " I'm coming child!" I screamed back. Alrighty I just need my retainer. I bounded up the stairs and glided down the hallway with my cotton socks. Bursting into my room, I quickly scanned it for the sparkly emerald case. I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, "Boom!" I ran forward and snatched it off my windowsill. While leaping for my door, I paused and turned back to what I call my sanctuary. Call me paranoid but I'm kinda afraid of camping in the middle of the woods. Ever since I watched "The Blair Witch Project", I've been creeped.

It doesn't help that Jazzy forced us to watch the film, previous to this morning. I was drifting in the fairy floss clouds of my mind when a loud honk poured water on them. I sucked in a breath, blowing raspberries. Padding back over to my bedside, I grabbed my Ice Bear plushie. Giving it a quick squeeze and finally deciding that he's coming with me. Galloping back through the house, I made it out, locked the door and hopped in the back seat like a spring rabbit. "What took you so long?" I gazed up through my fringe at my girl bestie Jazmine. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair, and a mousy nose. Her blue eyes were alike with pebbles under a lake, with cheeks connected by a dash of light freckles. "I swear I just aged waiting for you" and Danny, our guy bestie. I've been best friends with Danny, since 3rd grade. Jazzy moved over during the 5th grade. All three of us have been with each other through thick and thin. Daniel was Hawaiian Japanese descent, had perfect colorful nails and absolutely gorgeous eye makeup. We were all dressed in casual, comfy clothes for the trip. Jazmine, or Jazzy as people call her, as the oldest. She was driving Danny's dad's truck. It was spacious and definitely was fit for the environment. Danny, second eldest was in shotgun and I, being the "baby", was in the back. "I was just making sure I have everything." The two rolled their eyes. Danny looked back at me "Girl, you need to chill. We've got everything and more" the boy stated. "I know, I know.....I'm just paranoid, you know.....being in the woods for a week" I looked down at my feet and played with my fingers to cover my embarressedness. "Awww, is the baby scared", Jazzy giggled, imitating a child. I swatted at her, "Let's just...finally go" I grumbled, reaching inside my bag to pull out my headphones. "Fine" they answered teasingly. While Jazzy was pulling out, I fastened myself and slid my headphones on. Bluetoothing them and unlocking my phone, I scrolled through my YouTube Music playlist finding the one named 'Bell Mix'. After that, I went back to the truffula trees and fairy floss. Just listening to my music and thinking about things. There were a couple times, where I thought I might get sick, but I had remembered my motion sickness bracelets. In your face! It's better to set out a little later, rather than having our vehicle reeking of my insides. 2 or 3 hours went by, or something. I'm not really sure, my brain doesn't really have a sense of time when I'm inside of it. We stopped to use the bathroom, get food and fuel at a gas station, maybe 2 hours away from the forest. "Can I, can I, can I, can I PLEASE?!?" I had been begging Jazzy to let me buy a bag of Haribo for 10 minutes now, and she was starting to break. I'm very persuasive as you find out, and I happen to be a very prominent weakness to many throughout my life. She finally gave in and I bounced away to the candy isle with glee and happily picked out a bag, promising to share. Jazzy just rolled her eyes and paid for our things. We trotted back to the car and continued our journey. It was nearing the end of 2pm when we finally arrived at the edge of the forest. It's lushes were absolutely perfectly splendid. The road continued for a hot minute, until it gave away to dirt and rocks. We didn't want to stray too far from the dirt road, so we slowly kept moving in until I suddenly exclaimed at the sight of a pretty little clearing. It had a few little bushes marking the edges, thick but soft looking grass, and a little dirt patch at one side that should be perfect for a firepit. We pulled over to take a look around, flattening a few bushes in the process. As soon as the truck came to a stop I shoved the door open and sprung down onto the flourishing forest floor. The first thing I did was take a deep breath to soak in the sweet scent of the untouched earth. I reached up, stretching and cracking a few of my bones in the process. Then I raced through the trees and undergrowth, toward the beautiful glade. It felt so nice to get away from civilization, I had always loved

getting away like this. Being able to recharge away from annoying people and sounds, my fears of the night were long forgotten. I was two steps away from the grass when I suddenly tripped over something. Tumbling forward and scratching my cheek. I landed on my face, but on the bright side it was luckily with no rocks around. The dirt however spared me at nothing, crawling into my fresh scrapes, was a sharp and quick stinging as I grabbed my face. "Seriously Y/N, we haven't even completely left the car yet and you've already managed to hurt yourself" Jazzy declared. Danny chimed in, "Did you hurt yourself at all?". Quickly inspecting myself, I responded "Yes, a tiny bit on my cheek, hands and knees", I could hear them muttering to themselves about how reckless I was sometimes. They started toward me and as I waited for them to catch up, I decided to look around and figure out where to put things for these next few days. While ogling the decently wide stretch that was conveniently shielded by a mighty sugar maple. I thought I saw something in the undergrowth a few meters away from me. I grabbed my glasses and narrowed my eyes, but right when I thought I saw whatever it was, two flashes shot in the opposite direction between the ferns and disappeared. They were kinda hidden but I could sorta make out one of the shapes was darker and slightly bigger. The other was a little bit easier but still was difficult, it was kinda brown, or maybe reddish? At that moment I felt two hands on my shoulders, "Let me see", it was Jazzy. She inspected my injury. "It'll be fine, just wash it off", "Okie-Dokie-Artichokie", she laughed and ruffled my hair. I gazed back at where I saw the two shapes but not even the bushes were still moving. "Hey!" I cocked my head back to the voice "Can you help me?" Danny was struggling to unpack from the back. "Sure thing Danny-O" I quickly stood up, maybe a little too quick. My vision went funny and I almost stumbled. "Oh my god Y/N! Be careful!" Jazzy scolded, "My bad!" I was a little all over the place at the moment. Finally we were on this trip! I mean, I waited 6 months for this and it's finally here! I'm not all childish, I'm actually very 4D. I'm just really excited okay? I more carefully walked back to the truck, where Danny was struggling to keep ahold of what appeared to be the tent. Over the course of the next hour and a half we set up everything. Goofing around and laughing. Danny had been pulling too hard on our sleeping bags, to wedge them out of the trunk. And had accidentally fallen onto the slightly wet dirt, causing a very prominent brown streak across his gray sweatpants and sky blue tie dye hoodie. I was currently on my way to find the stream that is supposably close by, with a screenshot of google maps and a compass. Service wasn't exactly a 5 star out here, but I didn't mind too much. I brought a portable WiFi router with me, so if Jason Vorhees just decided to pull one, we could call for help. Every so often I would hang a wooden heart ornament on one of the tree's branches, so if this was the correct way then we would never get lost. Also so that I didn't get lost right now. I had been making these last night, for these exact reasons. I swear only dumb people don't mark their surroundings, this is one of the main reasons why people disappear and are never found or get lost. There are no traces of where they've been, like these fruit loops really-...... After about another 20 meters I started hearing the sounds of water. It became louder and louder really quickly. Is there a waterfall here? I pondered, while quickening my pace with curiosity. 35 seconds later I came across a thinning in the trees and beyond a clear water stream. I finally broke out of the shelter provided from the thick leaves, the sun kissed my skin with it's warm touch. I looked around and sure enough, there was a small waterfall that looked straight out of a fairytale. It had multiple uneven levels, with smoothed boulders everywhere. And to top it all off, it had little water plants scattered around it. Absolutely

beautiful.... I scanned around and spotted a few giant boulders poking into the stream. I carefully picked my way over to them, clutching onto Danny's muddy clothes. Hopping onto the sunlight warmed stones, I positioned myself perfectly so that I could reach the water but wouldn't fall in. I reached into my pocket for my zip lock of natural soap, of course I didn't want to hurt this literally untouched land. I leaned down to dunk the fabric into the stream's crystal-like water and kneaded the brown smudge. It was decently cold, just perfect for a stream. I turned back to the small bag with a green bar wrapped with brown paper and a little herb decoration. I unzipped it and reached for a tiny hand towel I brought with me so that I would have a better grip on the soap, even if I got wet. After dunking the clothes in I took the bar of soap and swiped it all over. I dipped it into the water once to help the bubble come, then I started aggressively rubbing it. Once the outfit was foaming with suds, I slapped it into the brook. Holding onto the sleeve I rub it harshly all over to get the stains out. It was relatively still easy because the events of cause were only moments before. I was starting to disappear into my thoughts, getting deeper and deeper and deeper....... And just then a crash and from the trees, followed by snarls and barks. I was so lost in my thought that this jolted me into the canal. The water suddenly became ice cold, my scream had been washed away. A surge of water filled my lungs from the way my mouth was open to yelp. I could still hear the sounds of fighting every so often, when I would surface. My head was hurting, my skin was stinging and my lungs were screaming. Someone.....please help..... It was hurting so much, I was trying not to panic. So I could find the surface and get back to shore. I would break through it's crisp arctic clutches every so often and would cry out for help but then get cut off by the now frosty darkness. I was giving up to the stream and submitting to the coldness. Letting it swallow me whole. I was numb, I couldn't feel my body being thrown around anymore, Is this how my story ends? No! I don't want to! I still have things to do! I need to graduate, and find my passion! I need to find a man who will love me as much as I do! I need to birth young and care for them! I want to grow old with my partner happily! I can't die yet! I just can't! But it was just so cold. I had stopped moving violently, so I guess I had been poured into a lake or something. I didn't care anymore. My blood felt frozen, I couldn't even bend a finger. That's when I felt a force near me, it parted the waters. Moving me in a different direction with its power. Then not long after I felt something grab hold of me in an awkward way. I was starting to be pulled into another direction, as the water streamed around, parting to let me and whatever that was saving me through. Then I broke through the surface and that was the last thing I felt before slipping into a comfy unconsciousness.

[bonesofapoet]

We Are Unsung Hymns

[jason todd x you]

author’s note: me: im only writing requests this year! also me: what if i explored the more Intense and Darker Themes of being with an anti-hero, especially when they kinda disappear, then show up half dead for the 32nd time? me again: so what im actually saying is due to Recent Events i am once again, projecting onto jason peter todd

p.s. dont judge me for the out of context Shelley quotes + this is a little rusty, i havent written in a hot second. tw blood + injury, alcohol, adult language, loneliness.

word count: 1678 (WOW)

Silence, to you, meant many things.

It was the soft hours of dawn, honey golden light streaming through curtained windows. It was the hush in your soul after a day so divine it felt more like a dream than anything else. Silence was the eye of a hurricane, the calm before the storm.

Sometimes, it was sinister. Silence meant unknown things seeping into hairline cracks left unguarded when things had been going good, going smooth, going so well you forgot life could be anything else, forgot that surprises still existed.

A day of silence had melted seamlessly into two, then drew slowly into four, even five. It had grown harder to keep your mind from straying, to keep yourself focused on the world in front of you and the people beside you. It was easier during the day as most things seemed to be, but, well.

Things were always fine, until they weren’t fine at all.

An arm of the couch, a corner chair. The windowsill cleared of clutter for seamless exits and entries under the cover of night – they all became prime places for dreaming and thinking, for worrying and waiting. For wondering if you were even allowed to be this worried, this affected, because it wasn’t like you and Jason Todd were technically dating, after all.

It was like being suspended in a sort of limbo, a liminal space; floating at a fixed point in space and time where you danced around whatever it was that had grown and blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

Also known as: a purgatory, of sorts.

So you scrolled through old messages, camera rolls, curled up in the windowsill with a blanket and city lights for company, with city life for a soundtrack. This all dispelled the tension, the sporadic bouts of cracked composure; reliving memories that reminded you of his warmth, of his smile, focused on the ones that surrounded you with comfort. He would come home because he always came home, in one way or another – a little rumpled and tired, or a canvas stained with his journey.

You crawled into bed, grazed fingertips feather-light across his pillow, then dreamed.

Of course Jason was fine. Probably.

-

A few days later, you had become familiar with this feeling, you realized. Adjusting, finally, to all of this from the past, the present. This was your life now, and patience was a virtue. Resilience had to become one too.

Life went on.

And then you received a message, phone vibrating while out on an errand. Twilight was fast approaching, and you tried to race against the heavenly hues as they melted into deep peony pink, bled into bruised violet, became that deep navy blue always mistaken for midnight black.

Night was unpredictable, after all, and this one was no different.

{ Tuesday, 5:36 pm. From: Roy Harper

Coming in hot }

“Oh,” you said, startled. Your feet stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, crowded and loud – then suddenly, abrasively silent – but you began to move again, when your mind remembered what, exactly, that phrase meant. “Oh.”

You were home in record time. Everything happened fast, after that.

The first aid kit was in your hands within seconds, contents already finding their way onto a table, hands acted on muscle memory as they pulled a bottle of liquor, half full, from the cabinet as your front door flew open, ricocheted off the wall.

You didn’t even flinch.

“In here!”

Heavy, shuffled footsteps followed your voice. Roy and Kory hauled Jason onto the cleared space, and you didn’t bat an eye at that either.

His gear was off already, the clothes worn underneath already stained deeper, darker, saturated in places. His white streak wasn’t so white anymore, either. The harsh overhead light hid no details, and you wished this sort of scene still made you cringe, still made your breath catch and your brow crease in worry.

No one ever thought about what changed within you, when the life you crafted was suddenly full of superheroes and vigilantes. It’s never just learning how to stitch, how to help clean fancy bulletproof kevlar, or your rugs by extension. No, some changes ran too deep for anyone to see them, except for you, in moments like these.

Jason’s eyelids fluttered open, closed, rinse, repeat. He groaned, swore brutally when you began to clean up his wounds; you had learned a thing or two by this point, and this was nothing you had not handled before. Kory and Roy held him down while you worked, while you stitched and cleaned and bandaged.

Your routine was a well oiled machine. Everything slowed down after that.

“So this is what it takes for you to answer my messages,” you said, voice loud in the fresh silence, tone caught between a soothing murmur and a sardonic dig. “Just get yourself mortally wounded, avoid all that ‘don’t worry, I’m alive,’ small talk.”

Jason swats away his Outlaws, breathed a cuss as he pushed himself unsteadily upright. He tells them to wait in the jet, and they listened only after you shrugged your indifference.

“Mortally wounded. I thought you just saved my life,” he tried to joke, but this time it didn’t quite land. Not with his voice so rough and his blood on your floor.

“Take what you need on your way out,” you offered to his friends (yours too, now, you supposed). A balm in contrast to Jason’s demand.

You shared a look with Roy and Kory before they shut the door behind them.

“Rarely a dull moment.” Jason continued, more to himself than to you. He picked up the bottle of liquor within arms reach. The cap screwed off easy and he took a drink, then another while you hid the bloody dressing in the trash.

You swore you felt every emotion under the sun in the next seconds that passed. You were careful not to overwhelm either of you with any of them.

“Why didn’t you go to the Manor? You know Alfred does a better job than I do.” your fingers grabbed the bottle cap, played with it while your heartbeat rose and rose and rose. Jason probably heard it from across the room.

You knew the answer of course, at least the one he always told you.

He was quiet this time, though. Tired eyes left yours in favor of looking out the window, curtains still wide open to the prying eyes of nightfall. He went over to close them. “You never told me, but you were worried.”

It was a small truth; he had grown to trust you with those.

You wanted to smile, but you pulled a glass down from the cabinet, filled it with water and took it to Jason instead. Tugged the bottle gently out of his hand, replaced it with the glass.

He huffed a laugh, breath hitching when the movement pulled at stitches. Jason shifted his attention back to the city beyond, peeking behind the curtain every so often. His indifference to the last twenty minutes, the last two weeks-

You ventured out, turned the words over in your mind as you spoke them. “I don’t want to ruin your dramatic return.”

“But?”

“Being temporarily ghosted gives a person time to think.”

His lips twisted into a smirk, eyes bright. “Does it?”

“Jay.” you had grown careful with your words, with their delivery, but they always said fortune favored the bold. “I know you’re not my knight in shining armor -”

Jason snorts, took a drink. You were half tempted to push him out the window.

“- and I’m the farthest thing from royalty locked in a tower,” he kept his eyes to the streets, but yours could never leave him again. They didn’t want to, now that he was here in front of you, acting as if he never left. “But it feels . . . it feels like we’re in a fairy tale, sometimes, you know? And then I don’t hear from you for weeks, or you come home with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, and I can’t help but wonder, ‘What the actual hell am I doing?”

Jason looked at you then, expression closing off, bright blues steeled. “What are you doing?”

You don’t know, and you tell him that too.

But you were still here, and you hadn’t told him to leave. He knew that, and you could see him begin to remember, see him begin to let the tension ease up just enough to be casual.

He said nothing before he stole the breath from your lungs, just like he always does.

“’Death and love are yet contending for their prey.’” he quotes, and you allow yourself that small smile then, moving close enough to touch him, for him to touch you.

You wondered how long it would take, for him to start quoting a poet. Little did he know, you spent enough of his time away reading his favorites to feel closer to your anti-hero, and, well. At long last, two could play that game.

“’Though storms may break the primrose on it’s stalk, though frosts may blight the freshness of it’s bloom, yet spring’s awakening breath will woo the earth, to feed with kindliest dews it’s favorite flower, that blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens, lighting the green wood with it’s sunny smile.’”

Jason’s grip on the glass tightened; he had to look away, because – what the fuck.

Shelley always had a way with words, but hearing them spoken in your voice, so raw and practiced with that glint in your eye -

Oh.

The expression he wore now – it was the most real, the most wholeheartedly Jason, you had ever seen. He cleared his throat. “That’s not even the same poem.”

A quiet laugh fell obnoxious and graceless through your lips, and you couldn’t stop it.

“I’ll work on that one next time you leave me.”

Jason Todd pulled you into his arms then, hid his smile in your shoulder as you held him tight, and held him close.