#and i know this will sound terrible but you know how rhodes’ been all over the news bc of the terrible fires?

[eosphorusss]

everything reminds me of him and the worst thing is i don’t even want to be with him or even near him… i just miss this feeling of love and hopefulness. i’ve pretty much lost all hope for love at this point and i kinda wish i was still living a lie. but i know (hope) it will get better.

[randyortonofficial]

title: we’re not built for relationships (just each other) (click here to be taken to the ao3 version) pairing: randy orton/cody rhodes word count: 8368 description: It's been two years since Cody left WWE, and coincidentally, two years since he saw Randy Orton. When Randy suddenly calls Cody one day asking to catch up over dinner, the both of them have to address all the unfinished business they left behind.

There were a lot of nerves announcing All In.

It’s the first wrestling event outside of WWE to be held in such a high regard but Cody is ambitious and he’s been working nonstop at all of this ever since he left WWE a couple years ago. Every day, he thinks about how he can increase the stock of his name and every day, he wonders how he can improve, how he can better himself not just professionally, but in his personal life as well.

Even then, however, the All In event is his baby. This is the chance to show everyone what wrestling is truly capable of and showcase those stars that don’t want to relinquish themselves to the bland, uninspiring world of sports entertainment that is World Wrestling Entertainment, at least in Cody’s words. This is a big fucking deal for everyone, but especially Cody.

One phone call from Randy Orton, however, makes all those nerves he had about All In seem very insignificant.

“What’s up, Codeman?”

Cody sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know I hate that name,” he murmurs.

“All the more reason to call you it.”

Cody and Randy have been best friends for a long time. Even if they haven’t met up in person since Cody’s left WWE, the both of them have just been busy, Cody moreso, and that’s okay. Life happens, and Cody doesn’t get in his feelings about it, not anymore. He’s older now, smarter now, and more in control himself. They’ve still tweeted at each other and texted and what not, and it’s always fine when they do.

“You never call people. What’s wrong? Your back finally gave out to the billions of RKO’s you gave?”

“Not yet,” Randy tells him. “Hopefully never.”

“So what’s going on?”

“I’m in town. We should catch up.”

Though there is a reason why they haven’t met up in person since Cody’s left WWE.

Cody bites at his lip and looks over to Brandi on the couch. With a deep breath, he begins to walk away from the kitchen and out into their backyard, big and beautiful under a beautiful, sunny day to really top it off. “What uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just get dinner? Talk? It’s been like, what, two years?” Randy chuckles. “C’mon, I wanna see you.”

“Random question and totally unrelated,” Cody says, “but how are you and Kim?”

“She’s good. Taking care of me since I injured my shoulder, but I wanted to give her a break so I decided to come to Florida-”

“By yourself?”

“Hotel room and all.”

The adrenaline in Cody’s soul lights up all over to send flares of heat throughout, because Randy is in Cody’s state alone and he’s in a hotel room-

“Just um.” Cody swallows and shoves a hand into the pocket of his sweats to dig his nails into his thigh. “Just the two of us at dinner?”

“We’ll go to a nice steakhouse. Remember when we went to Stonewood-”

“Grill and Tavern,” Cody finishes quickly. “Yeah, was uh, that the plan?”

“You in? You all in, I should say.”

Cody’s mind is telling him no.

He absolutely should not go out to see Randy under any circumstances. He should stay here at home with his beautiful girlfriend and their adorable dogs, far far away from any temptation that Randy is very good at instilling with one look from those steel blue eyes. There’s a reason why he hasn’t been alone with Randy since he left WWE, and following that, why he left WWE.

It would be a terrible idea to see him alone at a restaurant and talk.

Randy doesn’t just want to talk. He’s Randy fucking Orton, he hates talking.

Cody knows all of this logically. He knows this is the smart choice to make.

So he’s incredibly upset with himself when he says, “sure. See you at like, 7?”

“Sounds good. See you in a few hours.”

After saying their goodbyes, Cody shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweats before plopping himself down into the nearby chair and running his hands down his face. His hands clasp together right in front of his nose and mouth and his fingers tap against each other as he stares out into the backyard he and Brandi have helped cultivate together. He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes.

He needs to calm that adrenaline coursing through him. It’s just dinner, and he can control himself. He’s moved on, and Randy has married Kim since then. They’re like, super totally official now so maybe it really is just best friends catching up.

This is what Cody tells himself, but deep down in the part of his mind he’s tried so hard to shut out, he knows their business is unfinished.

Cody can’t keep lying to himself when he sees Randy walking towards their table, in black pants and a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a rare, genuine smile spread across his lips.

“Suits really are all you wear now, huh?” Randy laughs and spreads out his arms. “C’mon, it’s been awhile.”

He forces a chuckle as he stands up from the booth to let Randy pull him in with those big, strong arms. Despite himself, Cody is easily relaxing into him, eyes falling shut and his hold on Randy tightening. The scent of Randy’s cologne, a Saint Laurent cologne Cody had bought him a few years ago, stabs Cody right in the heart but Randy soothes it when he murmurs into his ear, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Cody breathes. “I missed you too.”

Randy gives Cody a squeeze before he pulls away for them to look into each other’s eyes, though their hands stay on each other’s shoulders. The smile is no longer on his face, but he’s rather contemplative as he looks Cody over in his outfit; blue suit vest and pants, a white button up, and a yellow tie. It gives Cody time to do an appraisal of his own but he come to the conclusion that he always does, which is that Randy is fucking sexy in absolutely anything and it was stupid to pretend otherwise.

“You look good.” Randy nods and lets go of Cody to shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I like that uh, you wear suits all the time now,” he chuckles.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Cody awkwardly clasps his hands in front. “Black’s always been your color and don’t say it’s because your soul is black-”

“Damn, you really do know me, huh?”

“That doesn’t change just because we haven’t seen each other in a few years.”

“Just surprised. Haven’t found someone that’s known me like you.” Randy bites at his lip and looks up at Cody with wide eyes. “Besides Kim-”

“Goes without saying.” Cody nods politely. “Yeah. um… should we sit?”

“That’s a good idea.”

They both slide into the booth on opposite sides to begin looking through their menus. Cody had their drinks ordered before Randy arrived, so they sip them as they read through the options, though Cody already knows what he wants. He’s just afraid to look up to Randy’s eyes staring back at him and see something in them that’ll just lead further into that pesky temptation Randy is so good at instilling.

While Randy hasn’t let being in a relationship stop him, Cody being in his own relationship does.

“So just dinner, right?” Cody asks. “Just don’t think our respective significant others want us out so late,” he forces a chuckle. “Congrats on tying the knot with Kim, by the way. Don’t think I ever gave my kudos.”

“Thanks, man,” Randy chuckles as he leans back into the booth with those big arms crossed over his chest. “She’s a lucky woman, and I’m a lucky man. Um,” he clears his throat, “But how’s life been with you? What are you up to these days?”

Cody knows Randy knows, but he also knows Randy is just trying to make polite conversation and it’s better that then talk about anything deeper. However, he would have thought Randy would want to go on and on about his wife.

But Randy is just like that sometimes.

“Yeah, uh, life’s been good.” Cody nods and moves his eyes to the other page, though he’s not paying any real attention. “I’ve been making a pretty good name for myself on the indies, and attaching myself to the Bullet Club definitely helps,” he chuckles. “That really raised my stock, and, you know, now I’m running my own show with them and-”

“Just like your dad.” Randy smiles. “He’d be really proud of you.”

Cody swallows. He bites at his lip before setting down the menu and clasping his hands on top the table. “Thank you,” he says just above a whisper.

“Like, you really have come so far. I was pretty upset when you left WWE but to see you thrive and like, do your own thing and make a name for yourself, like you said, it’s great to see you succeeding.”

“Yeah.” Cody nods. “And uh, I was born to be like, a WWE guy, so it’s cool to get away from it and set myself apart. Really develop my skills better.”

“You’re really living up to your potential. You think you might like, come back to WWE at all later down the line? Some guys do that, get better in the indies and then come back to WWE and it’s like, Vince and everyone has so much more respect-”

“I’m good with where I am right now.” Cody quirks a grin and looks up to Randy, though his eyes take a quick detour to those big, tattooed arms that he can still vividly remember being wrapped around him, or beside him, or holding him down, and that’s when Cody takes a long, long sip of his water because he really needs to quell that thirst.

Randy does too.

“Um.” Cody licks his lips. “I mean, I guess you can never say never though? I dunno, but the Bullet Club is treating me right and I think we have a lot to offer. Also, like, my girlfriend - Brandi? You remember Brandi, right?”

“Ring announcer?”

“Yeah. She wants to make a name for herself too and I wanna help her with that. More than anything though, I wanna see All In to the end,” he chuckles before sighing and running his hands down his face. “God, that’s been all I think about. I want it to go well so fucking bad and I’m fucking relieved we sold out all our tickets-”

“Half an hour, right?” Randy smirks. “Fucking impressive.”

“Was not expecting it.” Cody shakes his head. “But that means expectations are high and we both know that wrestling fans can be so fickle over the weirdest shit.”

“Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

“Are you seriously quoting Dr. Seuss?”

“It was good advice. I’m not questioning where good advice comes from.”

“What’s the saying? Consider the source?”

“A children’s book author? Yeah, I’d say I trust the source.”

“Is that something you do a lot? Read children’s books?”

“I am a dad…” Randy smirks then and tilts his head to look Cody over again. “And if you can believe it, others consider me a daddy.”

For a few seconds, his heart is pounding. His breath is caught in his chest, and all he can think about is how easy it would be to fall back into their old habits and to just kiss him like they never ever stopped. That name brings Cody all the way back to the start, to the night where their friendship changed forever, to which it would then progress every day until they’d lay in each other’s arms and talk about their hopes, their fears, and their deepest desires despite their relationships with other people.

Every day spent thinking about each other, every night spent with their names falling from the other’s lips, and every second taking risks and letting their hearts take over while their heads play catch up.

Cody swallows heavily and sets his hands to his sides. He digs his fingers into his thighs and clenches his jaw before giving Randy his attention again. “You know what happens when we meet up,” he says quietly. “Did you really wanna catch up, or is there something more to this?”

That confident facade of Randy’s falls completely as they lock eyes for what feels like an eternity. Though the world is busy around them, they might as well be the only two people in this restaurant. Cody can only see Randy, smell Randy, and hear him, and the rest is a blur he can’t even comprehend.

Randy takes in a deep breath before breathing out, “I missed you.” He rolls his lips back between his teeth and after letting go, he says, in a slightly wavering voice, “I just - I needed to see you.”

It's both everything and nothing Cody ever wanted to hear. He knows how badly he desires Randy, but he also knows that desire is an all consuming fire that wrecks everything in their path. What they have is so intensely passionate that nothing else compares, but he's-

"I miss you too," he breathes out in admission. "But you're married," Cody reminds him quietly. "And I'm..." He takes in a shuddering breath. "I'm dating Brandi. Randy, we - we were hooking up behind Kim’s back before you married her," he chuckles humorlessly and bites at his lip before looking down to the table. "I just - Randy, what we were doing - what we had, that’s…” He shakes his head, and after a few moments, he looks back to Randy. “That’s not something we can do forever, it’s - it’s not feasible-”

“Cody, I want you to be happy,” Randy tells him, low and quiet. “I really do. You deserve the best, and you deserve it all, I want you to have everything, but… Cody, man, I can’t help it.” He shakes his head and bites his lip. “I still want you, and I want this, we’re - it’s a compulsion, we’re like magnets-”

“So why did you get married then?” Cody asks. “Why did you marry Kim if you still want me?”

“She was easy?” Randy huffs out a breath and runs his hands down his face. “It was - it was the easiest option, it was the safest choice-”

"The easiest option," Cody repeats in a humorless chuckle, and he has to shake his head to himself at the sheer audacity of Randy saying that to him. “You don’t even love her?”

“I do, I just don’t think I love her enough.”

He's always known Randy has had rocky times with his love life. Hell, this is his second marriage after his divorce in 2013, and that divorce was what led to him and Cody hooking up in the first place, so yeah, Cody is well aware of his tumultuous love life and how much Randy likes easy and safe. Cody just took solace in the fact that he never had to experience the tumultuous nature of it, not until he did.

"So, um, why wasn't I easy?" Cody looks back to him. "Or safe, like you always used to say? Or when uh, you've told me before that I know you better than anyone else? What about us, Randy, isn't easy or safe?" He almost spits the words out.

Randy’s eyes canvas all of Cody’s face and he clenches his jaw seeing the betrayal that’s etched all over. His tongue pokes around the inside of his cheek as he hangs his head, now unable to meet Cody’s gaze as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Cody,” he says quietly. “I don’t - I don’t…” Randy bites hard at his lip now before closing his eyes. “Look, do we have to do this here? Can’t we talk privately?”

“So we can do it all over again?” Cody’s grin is bitter. “You uh, take me back and you fuck me into the bed, y-you tell me all the sweetest things in the world, a-about how you wanna be with me, and take care of me, that nobody can ever feel the way I do and that I’m special and one of a kind,” he wipes at his wet eyes, “before taking me into your arms and holding me close, and telling me that, th-that you want to do this forever just to stay with her?” his voice cracks as he gasps out, his grin having fallen completely. “And then we go back to being friends, l-like you didn’t just pour out your heart to me the night before?”

“I know I fucked up, Cody,” Randy breathes out before opening his eyes. “And I… I’ve spent so much time thinking about that. The last thing I’ve ever wanted was to hurt you-”

“I would’ve gave you everything,” Cody whispers as he shakes his head. “I would’ve done it so quick, Randy-”

“I know, man,” his voice shakes a little as he looks up to Cody, his eyes wet. “Seriously, we can’t talk about this here, all of this, and us, we deserve a place to like, actually talk about this, don’t we?”

Cody swallows and looks off to the side. His hand comes up to stroke down his tie while he thinks on that, because he supposes a conversation with his best friend about the weird thing they had a few years ago is worth a private discussion so they can say how they feel with no watching eyes.

But it also means they’ll be alone, and they know what happens whenever they’re alone together. It’s like Randy said - it’s like a compulsion, like magnets.

Grabbing hard at his tie, Cody clarifies, “you said you had a hotel room?”

“Yeah. I’m here for a few days.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Took an Uber.”

There’s silence for a few moments. Then, with a deep breath and against the voices in his head screaming no, Cody takes out his wallet to drop a bill onto the table and tells him, “we’ll take my car there.”

The ride back was uncomfortably silent with the tension that weighed heavily in the air, but thankfully, the hotel is close by. The hotel room itself is as big as a small one bedroom apartment. The main area is large with a huge flat screen TV, there’s a wet bar by the spacious kitchen, and Cody can see into the private bedroom with the large king bed.

Hopefully, it’ll end up there-

Cody immediately slams his eyes shut and scrunches his face before running his hands back through his hair. “Do you have anything to drink-”

“Something sweet? Maybe with strawberries?”

He can’t help the fond breath through his nose at the mention of his favorite drink choice. “Preferably,” he mumbles. “Think I’m gonna need a lot of alcohol for this conversation.”

“Probably a good idea,” Randy sighs as he goes over to begin pouring their drinks. “Where do you wanna sit? The couch? My bed? My lap?”

Cody opens his eyes to glare over at Randy. “How do you have the audacity to make jokes after what we said at the restaurant?”

“I was just trying to-”

“Lighten the mood to take away from the years of pain you’ve given me? We’re long past that point now. There’re no amount of jokes or special entendres you can make to distract from that, y-you led me on for years, Randy, you led me on behind Kim’s back-”

“I’m in love with you.”

“- and you made me think that what we were doing was going to go somewhere and…” Cody stops then as Randy hands him his drink and furrows his eyebrows, eyes wandering all over the floor before he glares up at Randy again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Randy glares back at him. “I just fucking told you I’m in love with you-”

“You can’t just drop that information, Randy!” Cody’s voice raises. “You can’t casually tell me in the middle of me telling you how you hurt me that… that you’re…” He closes his mouth and swallows before looking the other way and shaking his head. “You can’t do that,” he whispers. “You can’t fucking do that.”

It’s completely unfair. It’s too late. It cuts off his train of thought and forces him to focus on the fact that, apparently, Randy is in love with him and takes him away completely from the very real and harsh reality that Randy had led him on for so long, did all of this wonderful, amazing stuff with him just to go back home to someone else’s arms.

What’s the point then, of doing all that stuff with him, if it doesn’t lead them to each other at the end of the day?

Randy sighs and looks down to the floor. He places his hands on his hips, fingers tapping against them before he begins to turn to head into the bedroom. “Cody, I’m - I’m not the best at this-”

“What, fucking communicating like a normal person?” Cody says before taking a long sip of his drink and he follows Randy into the room. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“I… yeah, you know what, that’s exactly it.” He sips his drink before setting it on the nightstand and runs his hands down his face. “And I’m sorry, Cody. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am, okay? Look, ever since you left WWE, I had a lot of time to think about shit, about the past and the future and everything in between, and when you’re alone with yourself and your thoughts, you like - I figured it out, my feelings for you.”

“Great.” Cody nods. “You’re two years too late, but I am so glad you figured it out after leading me on-”

“I wasn’t trying!” Randy’s voice raises as he steps closer. “Cody, I swear I wasn’t - I’m sorry if that’s how it felt. Okay? If it felt like I was leading you on for it to go nowhere. But you, Cody - and us - it was…” He bites at his lip and looks up to the ceiling. “Fuck.” He shakes his head. “It was too good to be true sometimes,” he quietly admits. “Everything we had, it - it was great, it…” He breathes out a chuckle. “Fuck, it was perfect, but that’s just it, it was perfect, and - honestly, again, it was too good to be true a-and I didn’t think I deserved that.” He looks back down to Cody then and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t think I deserved you, Cody and… I-I know I hurt you. I hurt you a lot, and I was worried fucking sick calling you up today because I had no idea how you’d react, and I understand if you hate me and if you want, i-if you want nothing to do with me.” Randy presses a hand at his eye and looks down at the wetness on his fingers before wiping his hand off on his shirt. “But I can’t not tell you.”

He had always dreamed of Randy telling him all of this. It was his wildest fantasy next to reliving that crazy vacation they took together in 2015, so this should be all Cody has ever wanted. Here Randy is, finally confessing his love for him and telling Cody that he doesn’t deserve him, that what they had was perfect but then, it’s the exact thing Cody didn’t want to hear.

Because he spent all this time away from WWE trying to get over Randy, and he did.

He did get over Randy.

Upon hearing Randy’s confession, however, he realizes that is not the case at all.

He’s never been over Randy.

He’s pissed that he’s never been over him, has only told himself that he was over him, but he’s more pissed that after everything was said and done with, he doesn’t hate Randy.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

He only loves him, and he hates himself for it, hates himself for being so into Randy and everything about him and how badly he’s under Randy’s spell. Always has, always will.

Cody sets his drink down on the nightstand before stepping closer and looking into Randy’s eyes with his own, even wetter than his. “You can’t just do that,” he gasps out. “You can’t decide to… what, tell me you’re in love with me? After all this time? What, like, d-do you wanna date me? When you’re still married to her? You married her, Randy, right after I left-”

“I’d drop her for you in a second, Cody,” Randy tells him so quick and firm. “I would-”

“You think that’s reassuring?” Cody scoffs.

“What’s the problem?”

“If you can drop her so quick for me, what’s gonna stop you from dropping me for someone else?”

The silence is deafening as they continue to stare at each other. The hurt in Cody’s eyes is heavier than the confusion in Randy’s, and the thoughts in their head are going a mile a second, desperately trying to figure out what to reply with or to add on, because what the fuck are they now? They could tell themselves, in the time between, that everything was fine and they were still friends, pretend that what they did was just good fun, but it’s so hard to deny when they’re with each other.

When they’re alone together, the whole world ceases to be as well as any rational thought.

When Randy hasn’t responded after a minute, Cody takes his drink to slam it back before slamming it down on the nightstand. “I’m gonna go-”

“You’re leaving?”

“Randy, I can’t do this with you-”

“I can’t do this without you, please-”

“You’re not in love with me,” he scoffs as he opens the bedroom door. “You’ve never even been into me-”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cody clenches his jaw as Randy’s arm moves forward to close the door in front of him, his hand firm on it to keep it shut. With a deep breath, he turns to face Randy and his body sort of hunches on itself seeing his eyes, which once held confusion and is now holding pain.

“Don’t tell me how I feel about you,” Randy tells him, quiet but low. “I’ll tell you how sorry I am about everything until I’m six feet under, I will, I will do it every single fucking day if I have to, Cody, but don’t you fucking dare tell me I’m not in love with you.”

“What happens if we date then?” Cody asks. “You break up with Kim and date me. Would you let the world know you have a boyfriend? Would you take me out and show me off like you do with her?”

“Yes, Cody!” Randy answers. “I would, I would do every fucking thing for you!”

“You said that all the other times too. Why is it different this time?”

“I didn’t know I was in love with you those times, Cody, but I know now, I fucking realize now, and I’m trying to make up for all that lost time and make it right-”

“What makes you think I’d even want that with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Randy scoffs and rolls his eyes as he backs away from Cody to run his hands down his face. “Cody, Cody, Cody, I know you do-”

“Cause you know me so well, right?”

“Yes!” Randy exclaims as he throws his hands in the air. “I do! If you didn’t want me, want this, you wouldn’t have agreed to go out with me, let alone come back to my fucking hotel room-”

“I was curious,” Cody mumbles. “I wanted to know wh-why you wanted to talk-”

“You said it yourself, Cody, you know what happens when we meet up. You know exactly what happens.” Randy narrows his eyes. “You can’t lie to me.”

“And you can’t just come to me on your schedule,” Cody tells him with venom dripping off his words. “It’s all about you, Randy, it’s always about you and what you want, if you don’t want a relationship then it doesn’t happen, but if you do, it has to happen right now-”

“We both want each other, what’s the problem?”

“I left because of you!” Cody shouts out at him.

Randy’s eyes roam all over Cody’s face as his lips form into a slight frown. “What?” he almost whispers.

“I left WWE because of you!” Cody shouts again. “I-It was because of Stardust a-and all that creative stuff, but it was also because of you, Randy! I wanted you and I wanted you so bad, I wanted us to be together and I wanted to be yours and I wanted you to be mine,” his voice cracks, “and you’d always give me hope, every single fucking time we met up, just for nothing to fucking happen! Nothing ever fucking happened, it was always the same, it was always the same!” he sobs out. “I loved you, Randy! I loved you so much and I couldn’t do it anymore! I moved on, I tried to move on with someone new because I-I have more respect than to just - just be that pretty boy you get with to escape reality and live in some bullshit fantasy world with!”

At the end of it, there’s tears, plural, running down Randy’s cheeks and it might be a surprise to anyone else, but with all the nights they’ve had together, after and before hooking up, Cody knows how capable Randy is of that. Everytime though, it never fails to tear at Cody’s heartstrings, regardless of the reason.

Randy swallows heavily as he steps back towards Cody. He reaches out for his hand but Cody swats it away. He reaches out again, but Cody repeats the action, though Cody doesn’t move an inch when Randy places his hands on his cheeks to guide their watery gazes into each other. His thumbs caress Cody’s cheeks, as loving as ever, and Cody’s sobbing starts to quiet down the longer he feels Randy’s sensual touch, for the first time in a long, long while.

“Listen to me, Cody,” he whispers through his tears. “I love you. I would do anything for you and I’m not going to screw that up again. I figured out what it was like these past years to be without you and I can’t do that again.” Randy shakes his head and sniffs. “I can’t do any of this without you. I need you, Cody, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I am so fucking sorry but I know better now and I’m not gonna make the same mistake again. You’re all I need, Cody, just you. Not Kim, not anyone else, just you.”

“How do I know you mean it?” Cody asks, almost whining as he does it.

“I wish I had an answer to that,” Randy chuckles humorlessly and bites at his lip. “I wish I could show you or tell you something that would make you trust me like you did before, but I know I’m gonna have to work to get that back. A-And I can do that, Cody, I don’t care what it takes, I-I’ll do the work to make you trust me again, I promise.” He removes a hand to wipe at his cheeks and then Cody’s. “It’s going to be you and me, Cody, it’ll always be you and me.”

  “It’ll always be you and me, Codes.”

Cody stares at Randy for a few moments before chuckling. “You don’t mean that-”

“I do.” Randy brings up a hand to cup Cody’s cheek. “I think, no matter what happens and… wherever our relationship goes, it’s always going to be you and me.”

“And your girlfriend is okay with that?”

Randy rolls his eyes with a small smile. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It doesn’t matter anyways, I - what you and I have, it’s so different then it is with me and Kim.”

“How so?”

Randy looks over Cody’s face, from those beautiful baby blue eyes to those plush pink lips, before quietly telling him, “what we have is realer than anything I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Y-You’re just saying that,” Cody chuckles nervously. “Like - I… Randy, that’s a big thing to tell someone-”

“I know…” He smiles and huffs a fond breath through his nose. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, and I mean everything I say with you, Cody, I… everything is so easy with you. Everything is safe with you. You’re like, you’re fucking special, man, and I wanna do this shit forever. Don’t you feel like that?”

Cody relaxes entirely against his side. He brings his hand up to Randy’s cheek and as his eyes dip to Randy’s lips, he tells him with no hesitation, “absolutely.”

 That was the night their relationship went past the point of no return.

The confusion starts and ends with, “it’ll always be you and me.”

“Randy, you better fucking mean it,” Cody says as he shakes his head. “If you do this shit to me again-”

“You can cut me off completely.”

Cody sniffs as he looks back up into his eyes. He gasps out as his hands fall to grip Randy’s collar. “I love you, Randy,” he tells him. “I love you so much-”

“You have me now.” Randy takes a deep breath and lets his gaze dip to Cody’s lips. “You’ll always have me, I promise.”

“You really promise?”

As Randy presses their foreheads together, he promises him, “always.”

Their breaths ghost so hotly against each other’s lips as they breathe out, and Cody can feel himself becoming more lightheaded and dizzy with Randy’s presence all over. The warmth of his hands on his cheeks, the familiar, intoxicating aroma of his cologne, and the firmness of his body under his desperate fingertips.

He’s never wanted someone so bad before in his life. Never needed someone the way he needs Randy, not now and not ever. It will never be the same, and as Randy guides Cody’s head to the side to lick into his mouth to take him, Cody gives up his entire heart for Randy to take too, and whatever else Randy wants - forever and until the end of time.

They kiss like no time has been lost and immediately, they pick back up from where they left off, the shattered pieces of their heart that was broken apart on the floor coming together again with each second their lips move together. They have all the time in the world, not just tonight but every other night ahead. It’s no longer a fantasy, no longer empty platitudes said with hopeful tones, but a reality that will stay true.

Nobody has ever known him like Randy. Cody has a done a great job over the years at putting together a carefully constructed caricature that lets people think they know him and all that he is, but it’s still an act, still a way to keep the private sides of him hidden to the people who don’t have the privilege of doing so, people that aren’t Randy Orton. Only Randy knows him at his worst and still continues to want him, to be with him, and that street goes two ways.

Because they’re not built for relationships with other people, they never were; only built for each other.

Cody’s hands roam down over Randy’s body, big and firm as ever, and back up over his shoulders. They run down his strong, tattooed arms, fingers pressing into his muscles that he loves so much, and as Randy lowers his hands from Cody’s face, he takes Cody’s hands in his own to intertwine their fingers. He squeezes Cody’s hands as he holds them up in between their bodies, the action letting Cody know that this is real, that this is a promise he means, and he won’t make the same mistakes again.

Their lips drag away so slowly, neither of them wanting to be apart from each other for even a second after being apart for years. They’re both desperate to keep this going and take this to the next level, remind the other that they belong to each other, were made for each other, as their bodies become one with another once more.

Their eyes lid open to look up to each other. There are glimmers of the future lighting up not only their eyes, but their bodies, and they can’t help but to steal one more kiss, and another, and another after that before they pull away to finally, and really, get their air back. They breathe in slow and deep together as they look at each other again.

“I’m gonna take good care of you, Cody,” Randy whispers. “Every single night.”

As he walks them backwards to the bed, their lips are back on each other, though their hands are quick to take them to where they want to go. Cody begins to unbutton Randy’s shirt and Randy’s hands are quick, skillful the way they undo Cody’s tie before unbuttoning his suit vest. Cody pushes Randy’s shirt off his shoulders and Randy shrugs it off completely before helping Cody remove his shirt and vest. Suddenly then, he’s grabbing Cody’s hips to turn him around to press him down onto the bed, lips attacking Cody’s neck while he palms him through his pants.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Cody whimpers as he brings a hand to the back of Randy’s head. “Missed you so bad-”

“Missed you so fucking much, never missed anyone like I have with you,” Randy breathes out. “Mind if I mark you up?”

“Please.”

Then Randy is latching his teeth onto Cody’s neck and Cody’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he lets out a loud moan into the room.

He can think about how to deal with it later, can think about how to tell Brandi that they’re done and he’s sorry but he just can’t do it anymore, that he really did love her but he’s always loved Randy, he did then, he does now, and he always will, and it’s not fair to keep them together knowing that.

Randy is worth it. He’s worth everything.

Cody moans with each mark Randy leaves on his neck. He’s drowning in the feeling of Randy’s ravaging mouth that he sort of tunes out everything else, and it’s only when he feels cool air settling on his hard cock that he realizes Randy has pulled down his pants entirely. He lids his eyes open and looks down to see Randy brushing his lips down his chest. Randy then begins to press kisses down his abs, over his belly button, and as his hands grip onto Cody’s hips, he’s looking up into Cody’s eyes right as he flickers out his tongue to taste the precome beading from the tip and Cody would be more embarrassed by the noise he just made if it wasn’t Randy, but it is and Randy has seen all of Cody, at this point, so he’s absolutely shameless.

“Don’t hold back from me, baby,” Randy’s voice rumbles as he tilts his head. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

Then he’s closing his eyes to press a suckling kiss to Cody’s tip. He leaves a trail of them down his shaft, and the further down he gets, the further down his hands move until he’s got his hands clutching tightly onto Cody’s thighs. Randy’s tongue sticks out to circle Cody’s hole, lapping at it before it begins its trail back up, over his balls, and the suckling kisses return on the way up his shaft, Cody moaning and thrusting against his mouth all the while.

It wasn’t often that Randy sucked him off, not because he didn’t want to, but because he always got Cody off with his cock and Cody was always so needy for him more often than not. On nights like this, however, where they’re feeling sentimental and in need of exploring that side with each other, it’s greatly appreciated.

Randy is such a thoughtful lover too, far more than people give him credit for. Cody imagines he doesn’t do that for just anyone, because he is still Randy Orton and feelings and emotions aren’t something he partakes in, but he does it with Cody and that’s what matters, that’s all that will matter now that they’re back in each other’s arms.

When Randy takes him into his mouth, he can’t take much. Cody’s the only man he’s been with, and he’s not going to be able to match Cody’s skills in that department, but he more than makes up for it with the attention he gives him. His hand comes around to touch what his mouth can’t take, and he’s quite an expert with his tongue, letting it curl around him, press at him, lick at him, and after a few minutes, Randy begins the lovely process of opening Cody up.

Thank fucking god.

So he drags his lips off from Cody’s cock to run them down his shaft, past his balls, to begin licking at his hole again. His hand gently pumps Cody as he licks him open, fingers of his other hand grazing over Cody’s thigh, along his ass, until the pads of his fingers are tracing the rim of his entrance.

“I’m gonna make you feel great, I promise,” Randy tells him. “Better than I ever have, and I’m gonna fuck you every night I’m here-”

“Do you promise?” Cody moans. “You’re gonna keep me in here? Make me feel good?”

“Until you only remember my name,” he grumbles. “And until I only remember yours, Cody.”

Cody gasps out when Randy pushes the first finger in and throws his head back with another moan as Randy quickly moves it in and out, his tongue still working alongside it. Cody’s hands grip hard at the sheets beside him to wring them between his fingers, and he tugs at them as Randy continues. He pulls at the sheets, he keeps making the prettiest noises into the bedroom as Randy adds another finger, and then another, until he sounds absolutely broken. Afterwards, he’ll have a bit of decency to be embarrassed by how desperate he sounds, but then, that desperation is what Randy likes so much anyways, always has and always will, especially when he himself is so desperate. It makes him go harder with fingering him open, makes him mouth more at Cody’s opening to get it super slick with his spit, and makes him moan against Cody before, finally, pulling his three fingers out to spank him.

With a whimper, Cody brings his head up enough to watch Randy stand up between his legs. He’s drowning under the dark intent of Randy’s gaze and he can only lie there, seemingly helpless as Randy takes his time undoing his pants. Randy swipes his tongue out along his lips as he drags his belt out from the loops, holding it up in the air for a few moments before dropping it onto the floor, the metal of the buckle sounding with the collision.

Cody couldn’t say a word right now if he wanted. He’s wrought with an urgent need for the man in front of him and can’t think beyond Randy, can’t look or smell or feel beyond Randy, because his desire for him is all consuming and withers away any sense of rational being left.

Right now, Randy is heaven. He is ruin. He is everything.

He manages a long, loud whine as Randy’s thickness enters his view. He moves himself back on the bed and pushes up on his arms to watch Randy jerk himself off, all while Randy looks him over. Randy groans out as he knees up on the bed between Cody’s legs and his other hand comes down to grip Cody’s knee hard, his gaze still dragging over every inch of Cody’s exposed skin.

“Fucking perfect, Cody,” he whispers. “Always so good for me, always look so fucking good.” Randy bites his lip hard as he squeezes his length. “Can’t believe how long it’s been… you ready for it?”

“Please,” Cody begs. “Randy, please, I can’t wait for you anymore, I don’t wanna wait for you anymore-”

“I know.” Randy nods and looks up to Cody before leaning in. “Neither do I, baby.”

He seals their lips together in a short, but promising kiss, one that assures Cody, once again, that this is real and he will not make the same mistakes again, and he drags his lips away so slow before leaning back to reach for the lube conveniently within the nightstand. Cody’s eyes are trained on Randy’s cock as he drizzles the lube over, as he strokes it all over, even as Randy spreads apart his legs at his thighs with those big, strong hands to be right back where he belongs.

Randy guides himself to Cody’s opening and he’s leaning over him to press their foreheads together. His breath is hot against his lips, Cody’s breath is hot against his, and they’re breathing in each other’s air as Randy begins to push into him, for the very first time in a long awhile. When Cody gasps out, Randy moves a hand into his hair to guide Cody’s lips back onto his as he gives Cody all of him, every single inch, and drinks in all the pretty moans Cody makes into his mouth all the while.

It could be too much, were it anyone else, but there can never be too much of Randy, only not enough.

Randy drags himself out to the tip before slamming back into him to make Cody gasp out against his lips once more. He does it again, and again, Cody’s gasps becoming louder until he’s moaning out, and then Randy is fucking into him with consistent in-and-out motions, hand still in Cody’s hair with the other hand at Cody’s side to keep himself up.

“Thought I’d never have this again, Cody,” Randy breathes out as he looks down between their joined bodies to watch Cody take him. “I can’t believe I get to have you again, I can’t fucking believe it-”

Cody moans, “you get to have me whenever you want.” His hands grip at Randy’s shoulders and his fingers press down hard into his skin. “Just - I want to be yours, I want to be the only one, Randy-”

“You will, I promise.” Randy steals another kiss from him. “It’s just gonna be me and you from now on.”

“What’s gonna happen? With you and her?”

“When I get back, I’m gonna end it. Tell her I can’t do this anymore, that it’s not working, that I fucking love you-”

“You’d do that?”

“I would, and I don’t fucking care what she’s gonna do, because you’re the only thing I care about.”

Randy doesn’t even need to ask Cody what’s going to happen with him and Brandi, because they both already knew that Cody was going to drop her for him, but in case Randy didn’t, Cody tells him, “I only care about you, Randy, it’ll be me and you, just me and you, it is over with me and her, I promise-”

“I know.” Randy nods and moves his hands to cup Cody’s cheeks as he lowers his body onto his, Cody’s hands dragging away from his shoulders to grab the hands on his cheeks. “I know you’d do anything for me, just like I’d do anything for you, because I love you, Cody, you love me, we love each other, and it’s just us, okay?”

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

They take each other’s lips again and this time, they’re able to unleash all that passion that’s been building up over the past few years. The taste of sin is so pertinent on their tongues but it’s never been sweeter, so profound, and the more they taste, the more they want. They’re practically breathing into each other’s lungs now, and each breath is another thought that lets the other know they still care, that they have always cared for one another and everything else was just a distraction from what really mattered.

They both invoke such heavy pleasure within each other in their shared climax that can never be reached with anyone else. The other’s name falls from their lips so quiet, but so heavy and full of love, of yearning, and afterwards, they’re panting against the other’s lips and just barely do they open their eyes to stare at each other in the warm and sensuous afterglow.

While their business is still unfinished, and they have a lot more to discuss before officially ending the night, the silence afterwards is comfortable as Randy coaxes Cody into his side to snuggle close. Even though they now have each other forever, that truth still hasn't settled in yet, so Randy holds Cody tight to his body, as close as he can, as Cody’s face presses deep into Randy’s neck to fully immerse himself in Randy again.

In that time apart, they have been living in the same dream put together of all their shared memories. Every night wondering what would happen if they took that chance to sweep the other off their feet, if all of that fabricated pillow talk had meant something more, but they don’t need to wonder anymore. They don’t need to stay awake at night getting so lost within the debilitating thoughts in their head of what could have happened between them.

No longer does tension fill the air, but rather hope for the bright future ahead of them. They aren’t ships passing in the night anymore, no, they have found their way back to each other, because they were built for each other; forever and until the end of time.

[ausetkmt]

The first time Karl Ricanek was stopped by police for “driving while Black” was in the summer of 1995. He was twenty-five and had just qualified as an engineer and started work at the US Department of Defense’s Naval Undersea Warfare Center in Newport, Rhode Island, a wealthy town known for its spectacular cliff walks and millionaires’ mansions. That summer, he had bought his first nice car—a two-year-old dark green Infiniti J30T that cost him roughly $30,000 (US).

One evening, on his way back to the place he rented in First Beach, a police car pulled him over. Karl was polite, distant, knowing not to seem combative or aggressive. He knew, too, to keep his hands in visible places and what could happen if he didn’t. It was something he’d been trained to do from a young age.

The cop asked Karl his name, which he told him, even though he didn’t have to. He was well aware that if he wanted to get out of this thing, he had to cooperate. He felt at that moment he had been stripped of any rights, but he knew this was what he—and thousands of others like him—had to live with. This is a nice car, the cop told Karl. How do you afford a fancy car like this?

What do you mean? Karl thought furiously. None of your business how I afford this car. Instead, he said, “Well, I’m an engineer. I work over at the research centre. I bought the car with my wages.”

That wasn’t the last time Karl was pulled over by a cop. In fact, it wasn’t even the last time in Newport. And when friends and colleagues shrugged, telling him that getting stopped and being asked some questions didn’t sound like a big deal, he let it lie. But they had never been stopped simply for “driving while white”; they hadn’t been subjected to the humiliation of being questioned as law-abiding adults, purely based on their visual identity; they didn’t have to justify their presence and their choices to strangers and be afraid for their lives if they resisted.

Karl had never broken the law. He’d worked as hard as anybody else, doing all the things that bright young people were supposed to do in America. So why, he thought, can’t I just be left alone?

Karl grew up with four older siblings in Deanwood, a primarily Black neighbourhood in the northeastern corner of Washington, DC, with a white German father and a Black mother. When he left Washington, DC, at eighteen for college, he had a scholarship to study at North Carolina A&T State University, which graduates the largest numbers of Black engineers in the US. It was where Karl learned to address problems with technical solutions, rather than social ones. He taught himself to emphasize his academic credentials and underplay his background so he would be taken more seriously amongst peers.

After working in Newport, Karl went into academia, at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington. In particular, he was interested in teaching computers to identify faces even better than humans do. His goal seemed simple: first, unpick how humans see faces, and then teach computers how to do it more efficiently.

When he started out back in the ’80s and ’90s, Karl was developing AI technology to help the US Navy’s submarine fleet navigate autonomously. At the time, computer vision was a slow-moving field, in which machines were merely taught to recognize objects rather than people’s identities. The technology was nascent—and pretty terrible. The algorithms he designed were trying to get the machine to say: that’s a bottle, these are glasses, this is a table, these are humans. Each year, they made incremental, single-digit improvements in precision.

Then, a new type of AI known as deep learning emerged—the same discipline that allowed miscreants to generate sexually deviant deepfakes of Helen Mort and Noelle Martin, and the model that underpins ChatGPT. The cutting-edge technology was helped along by an embarrassment of data riches—in this case, millions of photos uploaded to the web that could be used to train new image recognition algorithms.

Deep learning catapulted the small gains Karl was seeing into real progress. All of a sudden, what used to be a 1 percent improvement was now 10 percent each year. It meant software could now be used not just to classify objects but to recognize unique faces.

When Karl first started working on the problem of facial recognition, it wasn’t supposed to be used live on protesters or pedestrians or ordinary people. It was supposed to be a photo analysis tool. From its inception in the ’90s, researchers knew there were biases and inaccuracies in how the algorithms worked. But they hadn’t quite figured out why.

The biometrics community viewed the problems as academic—an interesting computer-vision challenge affecting a prototype still in its infancy. They broadly agreed that the technology wasn’t ready for prime-time use, and they had no plans to profit from it.

As the technology steadily improved, Karl began to develop experimental AI analytics models to spot physical signs of illnesses like cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer’s, or Parkinson’s from a person’s face. For instance, a common symptom of Parkinson’s is frozen or stiff facial expressions, brought on by changes in the face’s muscles. AI technology could be used to analyse these micro muscular changes and detect the onset of disease early. He told me he imagined inventing a mirror that you could look at each morning that would tell you (or notify a trusted person) if you were developing symptoms of degenerative neurological disease. He founded a for-profit company, Lapetus Solutions, which predicted life expectancy through facial analytics, for the insurance market.

His systems were used by law enforcement to identify trafficked children and notorious criminal gangsters such as Whitey Bulger. He even looked into identifying faces of those who had changed genders, by testing his systems on videos of transsexual people undergoing hormonal transitions, an extremely controversial use of the technology. He became fixated on the mysteries locked up in the human face, regardless of any harms or negative consequences.

In the US, it was 9/11 that, quite literally overnight, ramped up the administration’s urgent need for surveillance technologies like face recognition, supercharging investment in and development of these systems. The issue was no longer merely academic, and within a few years, the US government had built vast databases containing the faces and other biometric data of millions of Iraqis, Afghans, and US tourists from around the world. They invested heavily in commercializing biometric research like Karl’s; he received military funding to improve facial recognition algorithms, working on systems to recognize obscured and masked faces, young faces, and faces as they aged. American domestic law enforcement adapted counterterrorism technology, including facial recognition, to police street crime, gang violence, and even civil rights protests.

It became harder for Karl to ignore what AI facial analytics was now being developed for. Yet, during those years, he resisted critique of the social impacts of the powerful technology he was helping create. He rarely sat on ethics or standards boards at his university, because he thought they were bureaucratic and time consuming. He described critics of facial recognition as “social justice warriors” who didn’t have practical experience of building this technology themselves. As far as he was concerned, he was creating tools to help save children and find terrorists, and everything else was just noise.

But it wasn’t that straightforward. Technology companies, both large and small, had access to far more face data and had a commercial imperative to push forward facial recognition. Corporate giants such as Meta and Chinese-owned TikTok, and start-ups like New York–based Clearview AI and Russia’s NTech Labs, own even larger databases of faces than many governments do—and certainly more than researchers like Karl do. And they’re all driven by the same incentive: making money.

These private actors soon uprooted systems from academic institutions like Karl’s and started selling immature facial recognition solutions to law enforcement, intelligence agencies, governments, and private entities around the world. In January 2020, the New York Times published a story about how Clearview AI had taken billions of photos from the web, including sites like LinkedIn and Instagram, to build powerful facial recognition capabilities bought by several police forces around the world.

The technology was being unleashed from Argentina to Alabama with a life of its own, blowing wild like gleeful dandelion seeds taking root at will. In Uganda, Hong Kong, and India, it has been used to stifle political opposition and civil protest. In the US, it was used to track Black Lives Matter protests and Capitol rioters during the uprising in January 2021, and in London to monitor revellers at the annual Afro-Caribbean carnival in Notting Hill.

And it’s not just a law enforcement tool: facial recognition is being used to catch pickpockets and petty thieves. It is deployed at the famous Gordon’s Wine Bar in London, scanning for known troublemakers. It’s even been used to identify dead Russian soldiers in Ukraine. The question whether it was ready for prime-time use has taken on an urgency as it impacts the lives of billions around the world.

Karl knew the technology was not ready for widespread rollout in this way. Indeed, in 2018, Joy Buolamwini, Timnit Gebru, and Deborah Raji—three Black female researchers at Microsoft—had published a study, alongside collaborators, comparing the accuracy of face recognition systems built by IBM, Face++, and Microsoft. They found the error rates for light-skinned men hovered at less than 1 percent, while that figure touched 35 percent for darker-skinned women. Karl knew that New Jersey resident Nijer Parks spent ten days in jail in 2019 and paid several thousand dollars to defend himself against accusations of shoplifting and assault of a police officer in Woodbridge, New Jersey.

The thirty-three-year-old Black man had been misidentified by a facial recognition system used by the Woodbridge police. The case was dismissed a year later for lack of evidence, and Parks later sued the police for violation of his civil rights.

A year after that, Robert Julian-Borchak Williams, a Detroit resident and father of two, was arrested for a shoplifting crime he did not commit, due to another faulty facial recognition match. The arrest took place in his front garden, in front of his family.

Facial recognition technology also led to the incorrect identification of American-born Amara Majeed as a terrorist involved in Sri Lanka’s Easter Day bombings in 2019. Majeed, a college student at the time, said the misidentification caused her and her family humiliation and pain after her relatives in Sri Lanka saw her face, unexpectedly, amongst a line-up of the accused terrorists on the evening news.

As his worlds started to collide, Karl was forced to reckon with the implications of AI-enabled surveillance—and to question his own role in it, acknowledging it could curtail the freedoms of individuals and communities going about their normal lives. “I think I used to believe that I create technology,” he told me, “and other smart people deal with policy issues. Now I have to ponder and think much deeper about what it is that I’m doing.”

And what he had thought of as technical glitches, such as algorithms working much better on Caucasian and male faces while struggling to correctly identify darker skin tones and female faces, he came to see as much more than that.

“It’s a complicated feeling. As an engineer, as a scientist, I want to build technology to do good,” he told me. “But as a human being and as a Black man, I know people are going to use technology inappropriately. I know my technology might be used against me in some manner or fashion.”

In my decade of covering the technology industry, Karl was one of the only computer scientists to ever express their moral doubts out loud to me. Through him, I glimpsed the fraught relationship that engineers can have with their own creations and the ethical ambiguities they grapple with when their personal and professional instincts collide.

He was also one of the few technologists who comprehended the implicit threats of facial recognition, particularly in policing, in a visceral way.

“The problem that we have is not the algorithms but the humans,” he insisted. When you hear about facial recognition in law enforcement going terribly wrong, it’s because of human errors, he said, referring to the over-policing of African American males and other minorities and the use of unprovoked violence by police officers against Black people like Philando Castile, George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor.

He knew the technology was rife with false positives and that humans suffered from confirmation bias. So if a police officer believed someone to be guilty of a crime and the AI system confirmed it, they were likely to target innocents. “And if that person is Black, who cares?” he said.

He admitted to worrying that the inevitable false matches would result in unnecessary gun violence. He was afraid that these problems would compound the social malaise of racial or other types of profiling. Together, humans and AI could end up creating a policing system far more malignant than the one citizens have today.

“It’s the same problem that came out of the Jim Crow era of the ’60s; it was supposed to be separate but equal, which it never was; it was just separate . . . fundamentally, people don’t treat everybody the same. People make laws, and people use algorithms. At the end of the day, the computer doesn’t care.”

Excerpted from Code Dependent: Living in the Shadow of AI by Madhumita Murgia. Published by Henry Holt and Company. Copyright © 2024 by Madhumita Murgia. All rights reserved.

[themculibrary]

Pepper/Rhodey/Tony Masterlist

all i want is to be your harbor (ao3) - starkly G, 1k

Summary: Rhodey and Pepper both had a bad day, so Tony does his best to turn it around for them with a date night in.

Alphas Initiative (ao3) - YukiRiikus_Reading_Room peggy/bucky, clint/steve, steve/bucky, pepper/rhodey/tony E, 10k

Summary: Steve's had a crush on the most popular Alpha at his university for as long as he can remember. But when Clint starts paying attention to him, Steve can't help but wonder if it's really love, or if it's just because he's an unknotted Omega...

Dates, Lies, and a Trip to Rome (ao3) - misura T, 3k

Summary: In which Tony thinks it would be a great idea to get Pepper and Rhodey to date. Except for the part where he thinks it's actually a terrible idea.

Do You Know What Today Is? (ao3) - Not Applicable (not_applicable) E, 3k

Summary: or, 5 Times The Avengers Thought Tony Or Pepper Was Cheating With Rhodey, and 1 Time When Steve Got It Right.

Tony seems none-the-wiser to all the flirting between his girlfriend and his best friend. Or at least that's what the team thinks.

each pond with its blazing lilies (ao3) - Tieleen G, 2k

Summary: Pepper coughs and sits up, raises an absent hand to brush at her cheek where she may well now have a paragraph of legalese stamped backwards in transferred ink. "Morning, JARVIS," she says. "I'm sorry, my alarm usually sounds a little different."

finders, keepers (ao3) - starkly G, 1k

Summary: The problem with dating two people instead of one is that you have to deal with twice the amount of clothes being stolen.

national treasure (ao3) - imposterhuman G, 1k

Summary: “I’m pretty sure we were supposed to go left there,” Pepper said with her nose buried in the map, which Tony was fairly certain she was holding upside down.

Rhodey grunted where he was clearing their path of spiderwebs and other icky things (Tony and Pepper had both screamed loud enough to wake the dead the first time they’d walked into a massive spider web, so Rhodey had been unanimously elected the clearer of paths. Funnily enough, he had not gotten a vote). “The GPS says to go straight.”

“Why, exactly, do we have both a GPS and a paper map?” Tony asked, as if either of his partners were going to answer him. “The map is over a century old, right? And what did you set the GPS to to find hidden treasure that exists only in stories? Does no one else see the problem here? And we were supposed to go right.”

Recovery (ao3) - Jaune_Chat E, 41k

Summary: After Tony is forcibly turned into an omega, he has to discover who he is now, who he can trust, and how to learn to live with his pack.

Recovery Protocol (ao3) - westiec M, 1k

Summary: “In my defense,” Tony says tiredly, “I did warn you both this could happen.”

“When you said metabolizing Extremis would involve ‘hormonal fluctuation, volatile emotions, and intense cravings,’ I didn’t realize you meant…” Pepper trails off, gesturing with hands that are only slightly glowing at the fingertips at the three of them sprawled across the mess of the oversized bed.

Dealing with the Extremis in Pepper's system comes with some interesting side effects, but a little stay-cation might be just what she, Rhodey, and Tony need.

second honeymoon (ao3) - starkly G, 1k

Summary: “We’re never too old to enjoy ourselves,” Tony says. “Hence the second honeymoon.”

“I think it’s just called an anniversary,” Rhodey replies, though he smiles at last, setting his hands on Tony’s hips.

“Nope, second honeymoon. Because you weren’t there for our first one.”

Sudden and Silent in its Arrival (ao3) - PheonixFalls E, 24k

Summary: 22 1/2 hours of drive time, 1,461 miles of increasingly icy roads, and Los Angeles still isn't far enough back in Pepper's rearview mirror. But when her car breaks down just over the South Dakota state line, she meets a pair of men who give her a reason to stop running.

tony has a type (ao3) - graveltotempo N/R, 3k

Summary: In a universe in which James Rhodes is Iron Man and Tony Stark is his mostly stay at home husband (and Pepper Potts' trophy boyfriend), Tony finds out that Rhodey's team includes a hot tall blonde and a short handsome genius.

So he does the most obvious thing a petty and bitchy househusband such as himself would do.

He throws a dinner party.

we wished upon parallel lines (ao3) - sabinelagrande T, 1k

Summary: There's something always missing, something that can't be found.

What Good Is The Moonlight (ao3) - circ_bamboo M, 7k

Summary: On his thirteenth birthday, Tony Stark wakes up with a name on his chest and a name on his shoulder.

Fortunately, so do Rhodey and Pepper.

[snezfics-n-shit]

Like Clockwork - Judith Rhodes/Ms. Mason

Okay, this is short and was written within a couple hours because it's a work of pure horn.

For those who don't know, Judith Rhodes is an OC of mine from my (ongoing I promise) casefic The Deflowered Turnabout, and her history with a woman she calls Ms. Mason plays a significant part in the story. So they reside in the Snez Attorney Cinematic Universe, but content of them generally takes place before the majority of the main trilogy cast was even born.

That said, here's what you get today: Ms. Mason is back at Eden returning yet another bouquet given to her and Judith worries about her terribly.

Like clockwork.

     It was like clockwork, how Judith knew Ms. Mason would come into Eden. Every couple of weeks, a different man would make an order for a bouquet, and not even a day after such an order was fulfilled, there she was, returning it looking positively miserable. 

“I’b so sorry. You bust be sick of seei’g be all the tibe without buyi’g adythihh… ady– Ee’EKKTTCHH!!” That had to be Ms. Mason’s tenth sneeze since she entered the shop, there had possibly been many more before then, since she was clearly looking winded from this ordeal. 

“Oh, heavens, of course not.” Judith cooed. “I just worry about you. You sound simply awful. Are you sure you’re fine with coming here so often? Surely a friend or someone might be willing to make these trips so your poor nose can get a break.”

“Dod’t worry about be, Judy. A friehd of bide actually offered, but believe it or dot, by hay fever is dothi’g cobpared to… cobpared to– Ii’IITTSSH-oo!! Hh’eEKKTCHH-oo!! Hh.. Hah… HhhIIIEKKSSH-oo!!!” It was as if each sneeze forced more tears to stream from her eyes, and it only took about four more sneezes after those to leave her cheeks horribly damp.

“Goodness, goodness. If you’re suffering like this, I can only imagine…” Judith set the recently returned bouquet on a counter behind the cash register. “Come on, dear, let’s get you outside.” She glanced out the window and frowned at the flowering trees decorating the greener parts of the area.  “Or rather, inside somewhere else.”  Another trio of sneezes from Ms. Mason cemented her decision. There was a pharmacy across the street, a promising first stop, and a cafe next door. Some over the counter antihistamines and a hot cup of coffee or tea should be helpful, Judith figured.

Ms. Mason rummaged through her purse, desperately sniffling and stifling more sneezes as she searched for some pocket tissues. 

“You gotta be kiddi’g be.” She grumbled as she pulled the last tissue from the packet, wasting no time before loudly blowing her nose that sounded even more miserable than she already was. She looked up to see a fresh pack of tissues offered in front of her, or at least, what she could see of them through her watering eyes. “Oh by god thadk you so buch!” She quickly tore into the new packet and took three tissues to hold close to her nose enough to believe her life might have depended on it.  “Agaid I ab so, so sorry.” She blew her nose again. “I thought this guy was gonna be the one, or at least he would get me chocolates instead when he finally found someone else.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” Judith assured as she ushered the younger woman towards the door. She looked over her shoulder to the other flower shop staff. “I’ll be heading out, girls. Take good care of the store while I’m gone!” 

A choir of affirmative responses followed, promising the shop would be in good hands. 

Ms. Mason couldn’t help but smile at Judith, since she knew she was now in good hands as well.

[dira333]

Secrets

James "Rhodey" Rhodes x Reader

Prompt: “My boss came into work wearing a T-Rex costume, and the day just got worse from there.”

“My boss came into work wearing a T-Rex costume, and the day just got worse from there.”

“No,” the man next to you at the bar, tall, dark, handsome and not a stranger anymore, shakes his head with a laugh, “No. You’re lying. That can only be a lie.”

“It isn’t, I promise,” you hold up your hands as if that gesture was the only thing needed to prove your innocence.

He’s still laughing and you revel in the sound of it, deep, rich and hearty.

How could this happen anyway?

-

About an hour ago you had stepped into this bar, planning to meet a friend you haven’t seen in ages, adamant on enjoying one rare evening for yourself after a terrible day at work.

Your friend had not appeared. By the time her message reached you, she had already been half an hour late. Should you stay, open for what might happen if you gave life the chance or should you leave and enjoy the rest of your free night with a good movie and some fastfood at home?

You were about to drink up and leave, your bed calling your name in a way that made you feel older than you really were, when that good looking guy from across the bar had taken his drink and walked over to you.

“You look like good company,” he said, stopping a few steps away from you, “Do you mind a chat?”

“Depends,” you had answered. Despite the fact that he was good looking you wouldn’t just give up bed and fastfood for anyone. “Why did you come to this bar anyway?”

He smiled, leaning his shoulder against the bar. With you sitting and him standing you were just a little bit taller than him, but he did not seem intimidated by it.

“Actually my friend wanted to meet me here. It’s one of our favorites spots to get a drink after work.”

“And he has stood you up?”

The stranger sighed, taking a sip from his drink.

“What can I say. He’s a workaholic. Messaged me that he had an idea he needed to work on and he would come later but I know him a bit too well to believe that.”

You smiled and stretched out your hand.

“Well, I suffer from the same fate. I’m Y/N.”

“James Rhodes, my friends call me Rhodey,” he took your hand in his and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Okay, your turn.”

You smiled and took a sip of your drink. Time had passed way too quickly. You had drank, you had eaten and now you were just passing the time between drinks with silly get-to-know-me games. Currently it was two truths, one lie and he was very good at calling you out.

“Well, I like to sing while showering, I’d love to have a dog one day and,” he smiled, looking at you, “I’d really like to take you out again.”

You only realize you’d taken his hand when he curls his fingers around yours.

“Looks like all three of them are true,” you tell him slowly, smiling, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand.

Things like this normally don’t happen to you.

-

A week later…

“Y/N, can you please take that upstairs?”

You look up from the document you had been working on, smiling at Loretta, the longest serving office worker at Stark Company.

“Sure thing. Is he in the office?”

“I don’t think so,” Pepper rolls her eyes with a smile that tells you that she’s not the least bit annoyed by her bosses behaviour.

“Should I look for him?”

“If you have the time. Oh, that boyfriend of yours…”

You send her a surprised look. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” you try to argue and she laughs.

“I apologize if I was reading you wrong, but you’ve been different this past week.”

“Oh? Well, there is someone, but we’re not in the boyfriend girlfriend stage.”

Loretta smiles friendly. “Well, I’ll voice my invitation to bring him to our business party very quietly then.”

You snort. “I will keep it in mind, now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and hunt down my boss.”

She laughs at that and lets you leave.

Somehow, looking for Tony Stark has become the better part of your job in the last months.

According to Loretta, it means that you are trustworthy enough to let you walk up and down the tower.

It’s not that you don’t believe Loretta, or that you aren’t thankful for being trusted, but you could do with a task that involves less walking up and down stairs in pretty but uncomfortable high heels.

You could wear flats to work, but those shoes just look too good on you not to wear them.

Five steps on your way up the stairs your phone bleeps with an incoming message.

You pull it out of your blazer’s pocket, smiling involuntarily when you see that it’s from Rhodey.

“Saturday?” He asks.

The next message arrives while you’re still thinking about an answer.

“Does your crazy T-Rex boss allow you a free weekend?”

“I hope he does,” you write back, “But you never know if he gets hungry.”

-

You find Tony in the lab.

“Just put it somewhere,” he says when he sees the documents in your hands.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” you tell him, “It’s your speech for the MIT graduates and if I put it somewhere you won’t even look at it.”

He eyes you and for a moment you’re not sure if you have gone to far, but then he grins.

“Fine, I’ll look over it.”

“Oh, and…” You stop to clear your throat, regretting your decision to speak up already.

“And what?”

“Can I have saturday off? I have a date.”

“A date? Do I know the guy?”

“You know half the world,” you tell him, “So it’s quite possible.”

“Name?”

“No name,” you tell him and he pulls a face at that. “Tall, dark and handsome.”

“Damn, that could be everyone, including me.”

You laugh at that. “You might be tall and handsome, but you’re definitely not dark.”

“You should see me during summer,” he jokes and you laugh even more.

“Still not dark,” you tell him and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine. You get saturday off. You know what, you can have this evening off too, I’ll be here working on my speech anyway.”

“Are you sure?” You don’t want to risk your chance of a free evening, but you don’t want to jump on the offer in case he’s making a joke.

“Absolutely sure, but you should better leave before I realize that I could use your help with the speech.”

“And I’m gone.”

- “I know we promised that we wouldn’t talk about our jobs,” Rhodey says when you hand him a glass of wine, “But I still have to ask you. How was your day?”

You smile, something you seem to be doing almost nonstop when you’re around him.

“Pretty good,” you answer, “And yours?”

“Aah,” he takes a sip, “And we’re diving into the work talk. It was survivable…”

[i-spaced-sorry]

Hi ☺️ Could i request a Connor Rhodes imagine where the reader is his ex and also a nurse at the med. One time you get in a terrible car crash and get to the ER where Connor gets called to save you. You nearly die during the surgery but he saves you and stays with you all the time till you wake up. Then he keeps caring for you during your whole recovery and you slowly start getting your old feelings back, so you decide on a second chance. Hope this is ok ❤️

My first ask on this side blog! Thank you for the imagine and I hope I did it alright! 

Connor Rhodes x Reader Warnings: Car Accident and injuries

Making left turns always spiked your anxiety. Ever since you got into that car crash 3 years ago, you couldn’t bear making your own left turns while driving or being in the car when someone else made left turns. You always wanted there to be a traffic light to be present and for there to be a green arrow, allowing you to have the right of way. 

So when your best friend Alex invited you out for girls night and offered to drive, you were excited but also scared for how the night would go. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your friend. Alex always proved to be a good driver, it was just she had a lead foot and didn’t always take into account your driving anxiety. 

“Alex, why can’t we just go up one street? I know there is a traffic light there!” you stated as you watched your friend merge into the left turn lane. 

“Y/N, if we want to get to Molly’s it will be faster if we turn here! If I go up a street then we have to make another turn later and this is faster!” countered Alex, while she flipped her turn signal on and inched the car past the white line a bit. 

All you could do was hold onto the passenger door and brace for impact (it was an unconscious reaction you had started doing after the accident. When someone asked you why your reason was always the same, ‘I���m scared Karma is going to come back and injure me for the fact that I walked away scrape free from the last accident’)

Alex began to drive out into the intersection and was about to make the turn when you screamed and everything went black.

“Car accident victim, a 22 year old female, was on the passenger side where the car was hit. Arm is broken and we had to intubate on the way here. She hasn’t regained consciousness,” called out the paramedic, while pulling the gurney that had you laid out on it, through the ED of Chicago Med. 

“Baghdad,” called Maggie looking at the gurney and realizing it was you. 

“Connor you’ll be assigned to this case and Ethan you’ll take the other victim when they come in”

Connor walked into the treatment room and stared for a second. He couldn’t believe you were unconscious from a car crash. When the two of you were dating, you had gone to great lengths to let him know of your anxiety towards driving and he was the first person you told about your whole Karma idea. 

Quickly he snapped out of it and ran over to the other side of the bed, 

“We lift on my count” he stated while transitioning back into doctor mode. 

1 Week Later

The first thing you heard when coming back to the land of the living was the sound of a machine. Opening your eyes you felt something gaging you and you reached up to grab at it. 

“Y/N! You had to be put on a vent, leave it alone, we’ll take it out soon” jumped Connor as he placed his hand over yours and moved them away from the tube. 

After you're more awake they take the tube out and Connor hands you a cup of water. 

“Connor, what happened?” you ask after taking a couple of sips. 

“Y/N, you were in a car accident. We almost lost you during surgery. You have a broken leg and a broken arm. Your ribs were fractured and you have a concussion. You’ve been unconscious for a week” he explained. 

Taking everything in, it dawned on you that you weren’t alone and you exclaimed, “Alex! Omygod! She was driving, is she okay?” 

Connor could see that your heart rate was going up and it was getting harder for you to breathe. 

“Y/N, calm down, Alex is fine! She walked away with less injuries than you. She had a concussion and just needed a few stitches and had to get treated for some whiplash, but other than that, she is fine” 

Connor could see you visibly relax and he watched as your heart rate and oxygen levels evened out accordingly. 

“Connor, can I ask you something?”

“Anything Y/N”

“Why are you still here? I get you’re my doctor and all, but like why haven’t you gone home.”

“Y/N, I saw you on that gurney last week and lost it. I can’t lose you”

“Connor, we broke up, remember? You said in your - you began to intimidate him at this point - professional opinion, it seemed that I needed to work on myself and mental health before you could continue to date me”

“Y/N, I know I said that, but I still care about you, I never stopped caring! I just didn’t think it was a good idea to be dating. And I was not about to be friends with benefits. You know how much I hate that!”

“Oh” was all you could mutter.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way during your recovery, I promise!”

“I’d like that!” you responded with a smile.

[separatist-apologist]

They Took The Crown But It's Alright

Companion to Call It What You Want To, Ivy edition (with a small excerpt from Soren's chapter- Would You Run Away With Me?)

Never say I don't contribute to this fandom- this is 20k words long. I wrote the majority of it in 12 hours.

Also, I'm so wildly grateful people are still thinking about this fic a year after I wrote it, asking questions and wondering what happened next. Despite how unhinged this fandom is, I am having the best time here.

No graphic, no summary. We die like men. Politely NSFW

--

--

Ivy woke to the sound of pounding on her bedroom door. “Go away!” she yelled, well aware of who was doing the banging. Her cousins had arrived in the Sun Palace the night before and only Nyx would be up so early. “Aren’t you supposed to be a night owl?”

The door opened and Nyx stepped in, his bright blue eyes glittering with amusement. Tendrils of dark followed just behind, sucking up bright rays of light pouring through her window. “I can’t resist the sunlight or you, cousin. Why are you still asleep?”

Ivy sat up while Nyx dropped onto the cream-colored bedding and pushed dark hair from his eyes. He looked just like his father in nearly every way, save for his mother’s eyes. Archeron eyes, Ivy had been told. Ivy wouldn’t know—she was every bit her father, from the long, ruby hair to the russet-colored eyes. She even had his darker coloring and his magic, an unusual combination of fire and sunlight. It was her twin Soren who favored the Archeron lineage; blue gray eyes, fairer skin and their mothers ability for sight. 

“Yvette is going to be here soon,” Nyx interrupted Ivy’s thoughts, his eyes sparking with hope. Yvette was Kallias and Viviane’s daughter, the only child born to the High Lord of Winter and Nyx’s secret crush. Only Ivy knew as far as she could tell, though she was willing to bet Azriel’s son Auden’s shadows had spilled Nyx’s secrets to the rest of their cousins.

“That explains the clothes,” Ivy teased, gesturing towards the finely made black and silver tunic, handsome enough but way too warm for summer in Rhodes. “You’ll boil alive before she ever arrives.”

He shrugged. “As long as I look good beforehand. Get dressed. Don’t make me suffer through breakfast with the High Lord of Spring and his terrible sons.”

Ivy groaned too. Once a year, all the High Lords gathered in one of the Courts and spent a week discussing Prythian, policy, and everything in between. The year before they’d gone to Autumn where Uncle Eris had arranged a week-long festival celebrating Samhain and this year it was his grandfather, who she affectionately referred to as Papa Helion, hosting the High Lord’s and their families. 

He’d planned for the week to fall during the Hunt, one of their more ridiculous holidays in which females took over the city for a day, banishing the males to the sea. The evening culminated in the return of the males, who literally hunted down the women—or the partner of their choice—after finding one of the scarves females tied throughout Rhodes. Ivy had never participated and wasn’t about to start now, adult or not. 

Ivy banished Nyx to bathe and dress, choosing a long, white gown held up by heavy, linked chains above her shoulders. She wrapped gold cord around her waist to tie it all together and give the illusion of curves and allowed her ruby colored hair to fall in long waves down her back. Nyx had worn his silver starred crown and to that end, Ivy wove her own glimmering circlet through her hair, letting a tiny, jeweled sun rest in the middle of her forehead. She wrapped a snake cuff around her arm, knowing her father and grandfather would wear their own, and slid several rings onto her fingers. 

For every other Court in Prythian, it was the male who would eventually inherit the throne. Day was the exception. It was hardly secret that the magic that decided such things had skipped her brother, much to his relief, and had found her worthy. When Helion and her father died, it would be Ivy who ascended. She’d be the first Cauldron-chosen High Lady in living memory, as far as she knew, anyway. She was curious to see Yvette, to see if she was displaying the same magic Ivy was.

Not all the Courts had heirs, like Day and Night did. Winter and Spring and Autumn also had a generation the same age as Nyx and Ivy, but Summer and Dawn did not. Thesan seemed rather pleased to have never had children and Ivy supposed that stemmed from how proud Helion had been when her and her brother had been born. Her Uncle Eris and Aunt Arina had one daughter who was still quite young, little Isolde who was the same age as Spring Courts Aine. Spring Court was an odd place—Tamlin’s two oldest children were sons, his two youngest daughters. Alexander was the eldest, six years older than her and set to take his fathers place. He was the spitting image of his Tamlin in every way. While Ivy had been bred for politics and social niceties, Alexander had been born for war. 

His younger brother Finn was more tolerable, prone to the kind of mischief Soren and Nyx liked to engage in. They might have been friends with different parents. She’d heard the rumors of Finn’s rakish behavior and had seen him sampling the females each year in the different courts. They avoided each other for all the obvious reasons. She was far more partial to moody Saoirse and bright and bubbly Aine, though they rarely came with their brothers and father. 

The problem, for Ivy anyway, was the friendship that existed between her parents. Tamlin and her father, Lucien, had been friends for centuries and when their children were born, patched up their differences after their falling out when her Aunt Feyre had destroyed Spring, and forced Ivy, Soren, and Alexander together. Ivy was twenty-one, the same age her mother had been when she was made Faerie. She couldn’t be forced into unwanted playdates, especially with the brutish males of Spring. 

She left her bedroom and walked smack dab into her grandfather, dressed in a nice chiton and knee length sandals. His golden crown of sunlight sat atop his head, making his dark brown skin seem as though it glowed brighter than he already did. He beamed when he saw her.

“You’re up early,” he commented, throwing a strong arm over her shoulder. Though Helion would never admit it, Ivy firmly believed she was his favorite; of all her siblings, she looked the most like his wife, the former Lady of Autumn and current Lady of Day, Amera. 

“Blame Nyx,” she replied with a bright smile, hoping she glowed half as brightly as he seemed to. Helion’s amber eye’s twinkled. 

“I did see the rapscallion running about. I see not much has changed between the two of you. What shenanigans has he roped you into this time?”

“It’s secret, inter-court business,” she replied much to Helion’s delight. He mimed zipping his lips and Ivy whispered, “He’s hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lady of Winter, Yvette.”

“I’m told she’s become quite beautiful,” Helion half-whispered. “She takes after her mother.”

Ivy shrugged. “She’s too good for him, I’m sure.”

“Ah, but all females are,” Helion replied. “Don’t inform your father I said such a thing, of course.”

As if her dad wouldn’t be the first person to say her mother could have done better. Helion melted away, leaving Ivy to walk alone through the marble halls as early morning light spilled through high, arching windows. Nyx would be waiting on a private patio up on the third floor and while Ivy was anxious to see her cousin, that didn’t stop her from taking the longest route possible. Day Court was stunning, her home far more lovely than anywhere in Prythian. Ivy liked to bask in the warmth, to meander through its ancient, marble halls and imagine herself mistress.

It was a mistake. On the second floor, standing in front of one of the best views of the ocean, was blonde haired, green eyed Alexander. His back was turned to her, broad and muscled from beneath a light blue tunic. A sword hung from a brown belt at his waist and the sight annoyed her. What kind of danger did he expect to find here? 

As though he sensed her, Alexander turned, his serious eyes looking her up and down. Handsome, was her first stupid thought. He’d always been beautiful for a male who didn’t smile. Ivy was grateful he’d left behind his usual baldric of knives and she couldn’t help but notice that there was no golden crown of laurel leaves atop his head that might denote him the heir of Spring.  He never wore it, she thought with a frown.

Her eyes lingered on his full mouth just for a beat. Alexander said nothing at all as he assessed her, his gaze flicking from her head to her feet before he turned away. There was nothing to say, though it was quite rude not to even offer a polite good morning. Ivy scurried off, walking a little quicker than she’d meant to. The only sound was the hard soles of her sandals upon the marble and just as she rounded the corner she looked over her shoulder, surprised to see him looking back at her, too.

She shouldn’t care at all but…something warm bloomed in her chest.

It was sunlight over a garden. It was roses waking from a harsh winter. She shoved that feeling back down, joining a waiting Nyx on the patio, long legs stretched out in front of him casually. He smiled, golden skin basking in the daylight.

“What’s Alexander doing skulking through the halls?” she demanded, still thinking about his too-serious green eyes. She felt Nyx prod against her mind, violet eyes glittering with amusement.

“Maybe he was looking for something,” Nyx replied.

“Don’t be disgusting,” she complained. There had never been any love lost between them, even when she had been forced to spend time in Spring. Alexander, with his knives and his studying and his scowling. Ivy and Soren had each other, had always teamed against him until he locked himself up in the library or took to the garden to avoid them.

Nyx couldn’t argue on that front. The thought of Alexander looking for her was more than repulsive. It was against nature itself to consider him as anything other than an obnoxious adversary. He wasn’t the first beautiful male. He wouldn’t be the last.

“Eat your breakfast,” Nyx demanded, pulling her from her thoughts. “And help me think of ways to annoy him at the meeting later.”

Ivy would have bristled at his bossy tone normally. Today was different and for once, she was all too happy to dream up a little mischief. 

*

Alexander had kept far enough from the Spell-Cleaver-Archeron clan. He had no interest in being subjected to their scorn or their chaos, especially not at his expense. He and his brother Finn were meant to pay for the mistakes of his father, apparently, for eternity. Rhysand had never gotten over it and Nyx wouldn’t, either. Alexander might have forgiven them had their poisonous opinion not tainted all the other courts. Ivy and Soren hated him just as viciously, apparently intending to hold Alexander accountable for their mother’s dip in the Cauldron. He could recall years of their fathers trying to make the three friends as they patched up their own issues, leaving Alexander to the cruel whims of Ivy and the bored pranks of Soren.

No amount of apologizing from his father would ever make it right. It seemed nothing could garner their forgiveness and Alexander was not keen to try. 

One day Ivy would have to interact with him when she was High Lady and he High Lord. He intended to repay her for her kindness then. Still, at times Alexander couldn’t help but envy her and the life she led. It was clear no one cared if Ivy accepted the magic or not and was content to let her decide how her future might play out. Her brother Soren was given free reign to chase his own pursuits. Alexander would have committed an unknown number of atrocities for such freedom. 

He’d never been to Day Court before, having always hosted the Vanserra's in Spring. While his father made the rounds and Finn vanished, likely chasing the first pretty female he laid his eyes on, Alexander had gone looking for a quiet nook in which to find some peace. He’d thought he’d found a little patio high up on the third floor was decent, having tried the garden only to find Elain Archeron strolling the winding path. She'd been nothing but polite, had offered to show him around but Alex had panicked. He wanted to see it, loved the glowing peace and couldn't risk her eldest daughter stumbling in to survey him with her mocking eyes.

So he'd gone up for the open veranda of windows. He should have known Nyx would be waiting. He’d retreated before he could be the butt of any of Nyx’s sharp words, catching sight of the sprawling city from a window just outside the hall. He’d paused, drinking it in. The city was beautiful, set atop a hill overlooking a vast, sparkling ocean.

And then Ivy had arrived. Every inch of her was a Day Court princess—his eyes snagged against the glowing brown of her skin, contrasted with the wine red of her tumbling red hair. Russet eyes widened with surprise, assessing at him just as carefully. She was stunning, daylight personified. If anyone had ever been born to live beneath the sun, it was her. He'd had the most curious urge to reach out and run his fingers through her hair.

She said nothing, to his relief, foregoing her usual taunts. He turned away from her, a mixture of relieved and disappointed when he heard the slap of her sandals taking her away. Something soft snagged in his chest, fluttering gently like a feather. He couldn’t help but watch her go, eyes lingering on the sway of her hips. She hesitated at the sharp corner of the hall, looking over her shoulder.

Their eyes met for another moment before she vanished entirely. She was going to Nyx, her counterpart in Night. He had no intention of sticking around for that. Alexander turned on his heel, wondering if it made him a coward. 

He didn’t get far. Soren caught him on the steps, a basket of curling ivy in his hands. Soren paused, sinking to his knees when his eyes frosted over. He was a Seer, famously so just like his mother. Alexander had heard the stories but to see it in person was something else. He lunged on the steps, banging his knee roughly on the marble to keep Soren from smashing his head open the same way.

The male was out for only a moment before he blinked, laying amid his overturned basket. Alexander let him go carefully, stepping around his limp body before he could be accused of hurting the Day Court prince. Soren rounded on him, abandoning his plants to follow just behind. 

“Can I help you?” Alexander demanded, reaching the bottom step with a racing heart.

Soren shook his head, watching Alexander curiously.

“My sister means well, you know,” he finally said. “You should go easy on her.”

Alexander scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Soren only shrugged, clearly finished with their exchange. “It’s only a thought.”

Soren vanished without another word, leaving Alexander to wonder what, exactly, the younger male had seen in his vision. Alexander knew one thing, though. Going easy on Ivy was like dipping a bloodied hand into shark infested waters. If she sensed any weakness at all she’d strike, demolishing him before he had a chance to blink. 

He found his father wrangling not just Finn, but Saoirse too, just outside the large meeting room they were all expected to sit in. “This is not the place,” Tamlin warned, his finger too close to Finn’s scowling face. “You know what they think of us.”

“I don’t care,” Saoirse replied, her pretty voice a near match for their mothers. Finn knew better than to anger their father but Saoirse’s temper was legendary, matched only by little Aine. Speaking of—

“Where is Aine?” Alexander asked, drawing the attention off his younger siblings and on to himself. 

His father’s face darkened and Alexander understood his blunder. The assumption was they’d been together. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Finn said quickly, eyeing the carved, golden doors behind them. “This court is crawling with children.”

There was no time to argue, not when Helion arrived. He was cordial, kind even. His Autumn Court wife never stopped smiling, her pretty face sweeping over the four of them as thought to assess the interlopers standing in the hall. Tamlin quickly informed Helion of his missing child and her unfortunate habit of shifting into a bear when the mood took her. The High Lord’s wife slipped from his side after caressing his arm with reassurance.

“Amera is an expert in tracking wayward children,” Helion assured them with a twinkle in his amber eyes. Alexander almost smiled at the sight before remembering who Helion was to Ivy and Soren. He didn’t trust any of them. 

Helion pushed open the door, letting Alexander and Finn take a seat as far from Rhysand as they could. Tamlin didn’t seem to care as much, sitting just beside Finn a mere four chairs from the General of the Night Court. Cassian and Nesta. Lord and Lady Death. He knew them all by virtue of his training to be High Lord. Their eldest daughter Elyn had her wings tucked tight against the navy blue of her high collared dress. She was the spitting image of her father, from her long, dark braided hair to her hazel colored eyes. She was talking quietly to the shadowsingers son Auden, watching at whatever he scribbled on a nearby piece of paper.

Nearby, Yvette from Winter Court was sandwiched between her parents, relaxed as she listened to them catching up with Morrigan. Helion took his place at the front of the table just beside his son Lucien, murmuring whispered words. The other Archeron women– Elain and Feyre–stood beside a large, arched window talking animatedly, unaware of how their mates eyes continued to dart towards them, just to be sure they were fine.

Nyx swept in first, dropping beside his father with a grin. They were an identical pair save for Nyx’s icy blue eyes. Maybe that was, in part, why Alexander hated him so. Nyx was merely a minature version of his asshole father, born it seemed just to taunt Alex. Ivy was the last in, practically apologetic, a blonde child resting on her hip. Alexander knew that little girl, arms twined around Ivy’s neck, a protruding bruise marring her otherwise pretty face.

“I found a bear,” she told her father, sitting on the other side of Helion with a pretty smile. “I didn’t know bears were allowed to roam the halls of Day Court.”

“That’s Aine,” Alexander said before he could stop himself. For the second time that day, Ivy looked up at him with those unreadable eyes. Aine, hearing his tone, buried her face further against the slim, flawless neck of Ivy Spell-Cleaver.

“My apologies, lord, but I’m certain you’re mistaken. This is a bear,” Ivy argued, eyes narrowing. Aine giggled, not daring to look at him. The sight of Ivy holding a blonde child was making his chest ache though he didn’t understand why. He looked away towards his father, who was smiling with a soft sort of fondness Alexander didn’t see very often. 

Still trying to untangle his weird feelings around Ivy, who switched between rapt attention and softly tickling his little sister, Alexander hadn’t absorbed a word being spoken. He had no interest in any of this, couldn’t understand how anyone did. Soren hadn’t been made to participate, didn’t need to care about any of it. Beside him, Finn at least jotted down notes, ever the studious scholar. Alexander felt adrift in his own life, a leaf on the wind. He’d done everything his father ever asked by virtue of being the eldest. He’d led war bands, he’d learned a multitude of languages and the history of Prythian. He knew which fork to use depending on the food being served and how to himself among courtiers and High Lords. Sometimes he thought every inch of him was just his fathers design. What, he wondered, did he really know about himself?

Alexander sighed softly, suddenly aware every single eye was looking at him. He blinked, looking to Ivy who stared back expectantly, still holding his youngest sister in her lap.

“Tell them, son,” Tamlin prodded. 

“About the border,” Finn added with a sharp elbow. 

“Ah…” he began, still staring at Ivy. Something sparked in russet-colored eyes and she nodded her head as though encouraging him to say anything. He wanted to impress her so badly that something overcame him.

“The humans have abandoned their iron weapons for ash and have found a way to produce faebane without conducting raids. Whether the continent supplies it to them or they’ve found a way to grow it, I’m not sure. What I do know is one of my better skilled units was ambushed in the night….ten were killed. No humans were injured per our laws, and we were unable to take any hostage. They’ve become more sophisticated, bolder.”

It was Rhysand that drew his eyes from Ivy. “One random contingent of—”

“It’s not random,” Alexander interrupted with frustration. “It’s regimented and well organized and the attacks are increasing. They’ve destroyed several villages…they’ve taken hostages.”

“I want to see it,” Rhysand drawled. “Would you agree to showing my son?”

Alexander nodded tightly, his mood lightening ever so slightly when Helion added, “Send Ivy, as well.”

He looked back up at Ivy, unsurprised to see the disappointment on her face. 

Alexander should have felt it, too.

*

“Don’t make me go,” Ivy pleaded with her dad as her mother packed for her. “I hate Spring. Send Soren.”

“The other courts trust you more than they trust Nyx,” her father explained patiently. “They trust our family. It’s important to know what, exactly, is happening. I trust you. This will be good practice for your future.”

Her chest ached. Alexander had left the day before without so much as a word, taking his delightful sister with him. All the other courts were still here, would remain for the rest of the week. Just Spring felt themselves above everyone else, too good to mingle with the common folk. Perhaps she ought to be grateful for that given how pulled she felt to Alexander. It wasn’t just her, either. Soren, after years of helping her taunt Alexander, had spent the evening with Finn, of all people, creating mischief in Rhodes. 

“Can’t you—”

“No,” Lucien Vanserra’s eyes were cutting. She wanted to be High Lady, had begged and pleaded for the best education Prythian had to offer. Her father had taken her up on it and now Ivy would be made to prove it hadn't been wasted. . Nyx, at least, would be joining her, though she knew she would be expected to behave herself like a future High Lady and not like a wild child running barefoot through the countryside with her favorite cousin.

Nyx said nothing when Ivy found him the next morning, picking a piece of lint from his black tunic. She stepped beside him in her long, white dress with a sigh.

“Two days, max,” Nyx told her with a grimace. “Father swore it.”

Nyx looked glumly over the city rising with the dawn. “He thinks I don’t comport myself like a future High Lord ought to. Uncle Lucien is supposed to shape me up.”

“You and me both,” she commiserated. “I can be nice if you can.”

Nyx scowled, wiping the expression from his face the moment their father met them at the top of the steps. Lucien glanced outwards, dressed in pristine white from head to toe. “Ready?” he asked.

Nyx and Ivy nodded wordlessly, clasping hands so Lucien would be forced to winnow them all. Darkness gobbled them up, taking them from the oppressive morning heat of Day Court summer to the fresh, warm lilac breeze of early morning Spring. It was jarring to Ivy, who hadn’t seen the rolling, grassy hills in a good decade at least. Nyx, too, blinked against the pinkish glow of morning, his black boots crunching against the gravel drive. 

Her father was already walking towards the sprawling ivory manor, his former home once upon a time. Nyx and Ivy trailed behind him. How had he stood it, she wondered? How had this place been home for over a century? Even Autumn made more sense to her. Ivy preferred the blistering heat of Day Court to every other place and struggled to picture the severe, brutal Alexander frolicking in this place.

The Lady of Spring was waiting, her pretty lilac dress floating on a breeze. Soft brown curls blew about her lovely, fair face and Ivy wondered if she was happy. She could tell, from how still Nyx stood, that he wondered the same. She certainly looked it, beaming with pleasure as she led them in. Ivy had heard she was a commoner, had met the High Lord by accident and wondered if that was true.

“Welcome,” she murmured, so soft spoken her voice was practically lost to the lilac scented air around them. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Ivy looked up at her cousin, aware her face must have the same skeptical look to it. Beside her, Lucien bowed gracefully before stepping into the estate, leaving her and Nyx to fend for themselves. They both gaped for a moment before Ivy remembered this female had done nothing wrong. She didn’t deserve to be on the other end of their feud with her husband. 

“You’re kind, Lady,” Ivy finally murmured, drawing on her training. She was, after all, still her father’s daughter and somehow her father had lived with him for a century or more before he’d met her mother. Nyx was clearly thinking the same, his blue eyes looking around, stunned perhaps that his mother had ever spent a minute somewhere as placid.

This place makes me uncomfortable, Nyx’s voice floated through her mind. She’d forgotten he could speak to her like this.

It’s so quiet, she agreed.

The empty halls unnerved her, too. Day was bustling, busy, and full of talking, of laughter, of music. 

“Please. My name is Adelina—”

“Lady Adelina,” Tamlin’s voice interrupted as he turned a corner. Both Nyx and Ivy stopped, confronted with the man who had done so much harm to their mothers. He assessed them, too, as though looking for any of the defiance that marked the Archeron’s. He knew Ivy well enough, paid her only a passing glance before his eyes settled firmly on Nyx.

I hate him, Nyx snarled. Ivy said nothing though she shared the sentiment. 

“Welcome to Spring,” Tamlin told them, the warmth in his voice unmatched by the coldness of his eyes.

Nyx cringed softly beside her. Ivy could do this. She was the daughter of Lucien Spell-Cleaver after all. Had Lucien ever once let his personal feelings get in the way of duty? Ivy smiled sweetly.

“We promise to take up as little of your time as possible. Truly, High Lord, this is too generous and we are forever grateful.”

Her words caught him off guard. “It…it’s nothing,” he replied and Ivy could see how her father had managed to live so long with Tamlin. Tamlin had none of her fathers talent for words, for social graces. 

Alexander is just like his father, she thought with more than a little wonder.

Why does that matter? Nyx asked, still in her head. She shoved him out before he gleaned any other information. 

“I have given you your fathers old room,” Lady Adelina informed them, smiling sweetly at her husband. “And your mothers. I thought perhaps…you might like to know more about them and their time here.”

A muscle worked itself in Tamlin’s jaw but he stepped aside and allowed his Lady to continue their descent upwards. Ivy took her room first, momentarily stunned at how much of her father still seemed to linger. It smelled just like him. Nyx, too, peered inside with curiosity before walking away, down the opposite end of the hall. 

It was strange to imagine a life in which her father was Autumn or Spring. To her, he’d only ever been the son of the High Lord of Day. Her father, happily married to her mother. He was the male who’d carried her atop his shoulders and thrown her off cliffs into sun warmed sea water. The male who built sandcastles and taught her how to lace her sandals. Who’d shown her how command wind and fire and sunlight, who taught her to read and to determine who lied and who told the truth. 

How had he stood it, she wondered not for the first time, running her fingers over dusty books stacked on shelves? She picked up an old forgotten dagger when a knock on the door turned her around.

“Can you believe our parents—” She froze, because it wasn’t Nyx who stood in the doorway, but tall, foreboding Alexander. She swallowed, watching his eyes drift from her face to the knife in her hand. 

“Can…do you have a moment?” he asked, quietly closing the door behind him. 

“I suppose,” she replied, that same strange pulling tugging in her gut. Alexander didn’t move an inch. It was as if she repulsed him. It hurt her feelings a little. Surely he couldn’t do better?

He didn’t speak. Silence stretched around them and finally, “Do you and Nyx plan to share a tent?”

“Oh.”

Confusion flitted over his face and, annoyed with herself, Ivy took the opportunity to make him feel bad about himself. “Where else would I sleep? With you?”

His eyes darkened. “By yourself,” he shot back. Suddenly it was Ivy who felt dumb. 

“Oh…by myself is fine,” she decided, glancing down at her feet. Alexander said nothing else, sliding from the room with disgust on his face. She supposed she deserved it. After all, it would be him, Nyx, and her alone for a day and a night and he was trying to be accommodating. 

Ivy sighed loudly, pushing herself from the bed and back into the early morning air. She was greeted by Aine, grinning brightly in a pretty dress of blue. 

“You’re back,” she said with a grin, offering up a chubby, sticky hand. “Let me show you the garden. Papa says good hosts do things like that.”

“Your papa is a smart man,” Ivy agreed, happy to be led through the same halls her father had once roamed. In fact, she caught sight of him in a parlor with the High Lord of spring, grinning ear to ear, a glass of brandy in his hand. He winked when he saw her but did nothing to intervene. Ivy wasn’t even sure she wanted him to, surprised as she was to see how easy going her father was. 

That was the courtier in him, she supposed. Lucien could stare down the person he hated most with a smile. Ivy was still struggling with that. 

“Do you love it?” Aine asked, weaving through glass doors towards the beginnings of a sprawling, lush garden. Ivy paused, momentarily stunned.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally said, ignoring how the little girl was jumping up and down.

“Will you chase after me again?” Aine asked, revealing her true motivation for bringing Ivy out to the garden. “Please? Please please please plea—”

“Are you going to be a bear again?” Ivy demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes.”

Ivy pretended to think about it, a finger pressed to her chin. Aine clasped her hands, holding them to her cheek.

“Okay. You better ru—”

 Aine had already shifted and was snorting through the garden, trampling a row of lovely irises as she went. Ivy smiled, hiking up the side of her dress to give chase. 

She supposed Spring wasn’t all bad.

*

Alexander was tasked with bringing Ivy in for dinner. She’d been out in the garden with Aine all day, far better than spending it indoors with Nyx. Alexander had caught Nyx in his fathers study, snooping through carefully organized documents and maps.

“What are you doing?” he’d demanded. Nyx had looked up, eyes flashing with guilt before settling into loathing.

“Looking for my grandmothers wings,” he finally said. 

“You’re grand–what?” Alexander demanded. 

“Your grandfather killed my grandmother and aunt,” Nyx began while Alexander crossed his arms over his chest. He’d never heard this story. “And pinned their wings up somewhere in the house.”

“He’s dead,” Alexander reminded Nyx. Nyx sneered.

“You don’t keep trophies?”

It had taken every ounce of Alexander’s willpower to keep him from hitting Nyx in the face. “Who would? There’s no honor in killing females.”

“And yet, your family did.”

“Did your grandfather not?” Alexander shot back. He knew who had killed his grandmother. They stared the other down for a moment, neither wanting to admit that perhaps both their families had done heinous, unforgivable things. Alexander’s eyes drifted to the map behind his fathers desk, trying to picture wings hanging there like some kind of disgusting trophy of war. He shook his head.

“Look wherever you like. Nothing like that exists anymore.”

He’d been grateful when his mother asked him to track down Ivy and Aine in the garden, brooding over that new information. He’d almost asked her before stopping himself–if he didn’t know, perhaps she didn’t either. Why dredge up that horrible piece of family history? 

Lucien Vanserra was standing in the drive, face bright with amusement. The sound of soft bear snufflings and loud laughter told him Ivy and Aine were playing Aine’s favorite game—the one in which she was a bear and everyone chased after her. Alexander didn’t have to do much to get Ivy. She emerged, her dress tied between her legs in a big knot, revealing slim, tawny legs that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Her hair stuck against her pretty face, sweaty and still somehow lovely. She practically glowed, a princess of all the light that touched her.

Beside him, Lucien Vanserra cleared his throat loudly, eyes sliding towards Alexander. Too late, he realized his scent must have shifted and the elder male had caught it on the wind. Embarrassment crawled over Alex's skin, forcing him to look anywhere but at the red head grinning as she approached her dad. As if Alex were the first male to find Ivy appealing.

Ivy walked to her dad, who put his arm around her shoulder just in time for Alex to say, “Dinner is ready.”

He caught Aine with one arm before she could sneak off. She writhed, teeth sinking into his bare arm.

“You’re feral,” he complained, turning his back to the Vanserra’s to drag her inside.

“You’re a brute,” she retorted, blood staining her teeth. 

“Don’t you dare shift,” he hissed, tasting the magic in the air. His own claws punched through his knuckles in warning, just in time for Nyx to see. He smirked, as though every thought he’d ever had about Alexander was confirmed. Alex dropped his sister to the floor, angry that someone assumed he would hurt her just because she was annoying.

“Maybe the magic won’t choose you!” she screeched, dirt smudging her cheek. “Maybe I’ll be like Ivy and it’ll pick me!”

“I wish it would,” he snapped back just in time for Lucien and Ivy to see. Ivy’s eyes followed after Aine’s retreating form. Lucien put a hand on his back, apparently willing to overlook his momentary lapse of judgment in the garden and how he’s been all but ogling his eldest daughter.

“They grow out of it,” Lucien murmured, as if Alex hadn’t meant every word he’d said. He wished the magic would choose differently, that any one of his siblings might inherit Spring’s magic. It was mere guesswork that it might one day be him—he was strongest, had shifted youngest. Aine, though, was strong too and her magic was far more specific. Let her take over.

Alexander certainly wanted nothing to do with ruling.

Dinner was a tedious affair. Nyx and Ivy sat with Lucien between them to act as a clear buffer, His mother made the majority of conversation though occasionally Lucien would offer up a piece of long forgotten history and his father would smile softly, remembering those times. It was strange to see Tamlin that way and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

The only positive was Ivy and Nyx, forced by Lucien to keep their mouths shut. If they talked quietly in their heads between each other, Alex didn’t know. Didn’t care. He helped his mother clear the table before dropping them off to the servants in the kitchen. With nothing else to do, Alexander went outside to prepare for the coming morning. It was one day, one night, he told himself. He could manage that. He could handle Ivy and Nyx all on his own, could prove to his father he was High Lord material.

Tamlin was waiting when Alexander returned closer to midnight, standing just outside his study. “Take them nowhere else,” his father warned. “To the villages on the border and then back. I don’t want Rhysand’s eyes anywhere else on this territory.”

Alexander nodded, though he hesitated for a moment. “Did we used to display Night Court wings in this home?”

His father flinched. “I burned them.”

“Do they know that?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

“They are not innocent of the atrocities committed,

“I never said they were,” Alexander protested, well aware pushing would only make things worse. “But an explanation might go a long way towards fixing things between—”

“There is no fixing,” Tamlin interrupted. “Only control. What more can I do to show I’m not a threat to them? You’d think, from how Rhysand and his son act, I am still chasing after…” he couldn’t say her name. “It’s over. I’ve let it go. If they are unable…that’s not my problem anymore.”

Alex heaved a sigh. “Right.”

“Nowhere else!” Tamlin called after his retreating back. As if Ivy or Nyx would even want to see anything else.

*

After a quick goodbye with her father, Ivy mounted the butter yellow mare Alexander had provided for her. They wouldn’t be alone. Besides her and Nyx, he was bringing a guard of ten. It was a surprising mix of both males and females, apparently the first Spring had ever seen. Tamlin had explained almost apologetically at dinner, saying they respected females as gentle creatures in their court, and recognized some wanted to fight. Both Ivy and Nyx had kept their mouth shut over eggs, well aware their own mothers would have had something to say about gentle creatures.

Alexander had gruffly introduced them to each member in turn. Nyx, ever the politician, had gone around shaking hands as if he needed their approval to one day be High Lord. Ivy suspected he wanted to be sure that if anything went wrong, they’d have his back. She was far more optimistic that soldiers followed orders, offering a polite bow all at once. 

Alexander had tied his shoulder length blonde hair into a ponytail, a baldric of knives over his oak brown tunic. His arms were bare, muscles flexing as he moved. Ivy had to wipe her palms on her own tailored black pants, unsure why the sight of the Spring Court prince armed to the teeth was making her so nervous. 

There were plenty of handsome males back home. Day Court had no shortage of them and yet no one had ever made her feel so out of sorts like this. It was disorienting and beyond that, upsetting. It wasn’t just any male—it was Alexander. They’d never had one good conversation. She could take some of that blame but he’d never tried very hard, either. Sh couldn't remember having ever felt so drawn to him, to wanting to touch him with her traitorous, twitching fingers.

Ivy decided to focus on the sprawling countryside. It was so lush here, so green and bright. The air had that same lilac scent to it, fluttering against the braid of her hair as though it were an old companion. It was odd how much nothing there seemed to be. For several hours they sat in those saddles. Ivy ignored how badly her thighs had begun to ache, drinking in the surroundings. 

The road shifted from dirt to gravel to paved asphalt as the air, too, gave way. No longer did flowers hang on the breeze but a choking ash filled her nostrils. It took clearing a small hill to see why. Just beneath in a bright valley, lay the ruined, smoldering remains of what had likely been town large enough to practically be a city. Miles stretched in every direction, pouring smoke up towards the sunny sky. 

Ivy slid from her saddle, the first to hit the ground. She didn’t know why, but it seemed important to be on the ground as she strode through the once lovely archway. Alexander came next, his feet practically echoing beside her. The world seemed to groan at his presence, as though it recognized him, bowing to the future High Lord. 

“How close are we to the border?” Nyx asked softly, tucking his dark wings tight against his body.

“Hours, still,” Alexander whispered softly, the anguish on his face plain. Ivy couldn’t help but fall into step with him. They weren’t friends, weren’t even friendly. She could set it aside for this.

“How many people lived here?”

“Ten thousand,” he murmured. Nyx choked behind him, finally coming to the ground, reins in hand.

“Where did they all go?”

Alexander didn’t speak. None of them did. Nyx knew as well as her that no one had been spared. If the humans could come this far inland, could so easily decimate an entire city, what else might they be capable of? Not even the children had been left alive. It was stunning, the savage cruelty.

Ivy wasn’t prepared for the horror of the day. Each new, ruined village weighed heavily on her shoulders. Alexander explained not everyone was accounted for—some had been taken, though to what purpose, he could only guess. 

The border itself stood between the last small village and a dense woodland. “It should be impossible for them to cross,” Alexander told them as dusk began to fell. They were setting up tents just outside the village though the smell of smoldering wood and despair hung thickly in the air. Ivy felt exhausted, her mind blank. 

“A village so closed to the bordered might be considered provocation,” Nyx murmured, eyes staring into the darkness of the trees. She wondered what he saw. 

Alexander only shrugged. “And the others?”

Nyx didn’t have an answer to that. It was just like Nyx and Ivy to want to give humans the benefit of the doubt. Both their mothers had once been human. Those sympathies ran deep. Even now, Ivy tried to consider the fears of the humans. Maybe they thought it was better to attack first than be caught in whatever war they imagined was coming.

“They had to have known this was farmland,” Alexander was telling Nyx. “And families, females and their children—”

“How would they know that?” Nyx asked haughtily, turning his starry eyes towards Alexander. Ivy watched Alexander’s claws peek through his knuckles even as he swallowed his anger.

“I assume the screaming females attempting to flee with their young would have been the first indicator this was not a garrison.”

Ivy pressed her fingertips against her lips. “We need to speak with Vassa,” she murmured to Nyx. She was Queen now, was supposed to be overseeing these things.

Alexander scrubbed a hand down his face, the faint hint of stumbling gracing the strong cut of his jaw. She wanted to comfort him and didn’t know why, felt that strange pull again.

Ivy waited through dinner and drinking for his soldiers to retire. Alexander, too, slipped between the flaps of his tent until it was just her sitting in the dark. Nyx had left, his eyes farway. She knew he was communicating with his father in that strange way of his, connected despite the distance. 

She waited until clouds covered the moon, stealing the last little moonlight left. Ivy made her way to Alexander’s tent, pushing aside the flap. He was still dressed, lounging against his bedroll, one arm tucked behind his head. He went still when he saw her.

“Come in,” he offered dryly when she stepped inside. Ivy kept a healthy distance between them.

“How do you know this isn’t revenge?” she asked by way of greeting, vocalizing the thought she’d been keeping tucked tight in the back of her mind. Alexander’s handsome face immediately twisted to a scowl.

“Are you insinuating my people deserved what happened to them?” 

Ivy exhaled through her nose. “Perhaps the humans haven’t forgotten what your father allowed.”

He rose to his feet, so tall he had to duck at the tallest peak of the tent. “Oh? You know what my people haven’t forgotten? Your aunt destroying their home as an act of revenge.”

Ivy felt as if he’d punched her in the chest. She knew so little of that story, admittedly. Her father had always been sparse on the details that led to him fleeing Spring and she knew that bad blood had persisted long after Tamlin remarried. To hear Lucien Vanserra tell it, he’d gone on a harrowing mission to find his mate. 

“Maybe the humans are angry about that fucking wall. It doesn’t give them the right to murder innocents. Not when my father did his best to protect them and has aggressively punished any faerie caught crossing the border.”

Ivy took a step back as he came towards her. It had been a mistake to try and speak with him.

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Didn’t you, though?” he interrupted with a dry laugh. He came closer still, his body practically sucking up all the available space. Too late, she realized just how cramped the tent was, how close they truly were. What was she doing? Why had she come in here at all?

“I’m not my father,” he added after a moment. “But would it be so bad if I was?”

Ivy felt a punch of heat splinter at her back. “Oh,” she gasped, falling forwards. He caught her easily, holding her in warm arms. He smelled nice, of woodsmoke and pine. She took a breath, unable to understand why standing felt so difficult. The magic in her body lashed wildy before stuttering with a violence that made her choke. 

“You’re bleeding,” Alexander murmured, his hand on her back. “Ivy there’s an—”

Another arrow whizzed through the air, slicing through the tent and catching him roughly in the shoulder. Alexander roared furiously, waking his soldiers from their slumber. The two stumbled from the tent to find utter chaos. Choking, sickly sweet fog was racing towards them. She threw her arm up against it, blasting a pulse of white hot light towards the line of trees. Nyx was somewhere in the distance, weaving his own night kissed power blindly.

“Go!” Alexander roared again, realizing what was happening. Faebane in the arrows, mingled with the smoke, was choking the life from them. “Ivy, Nyx, you need…”

She never heard what she needed. She should have winnowed away even as she sank to her knees. Everything slowed, their voices distorted like she was underwater. It was all she could do to lay down and gasp desperately for air. Darkness seeped at the edges of her vision.

She was grateful to know nothing else. 

-

Ivy awoke to shooting, blinding pain. She groaned, twisting to touch her back. Chains rattled, iron digging into her wrists. She heard someone sigh.

“You’re awake.”

She opened an eye, and then another, disturbed to find herself in a cold, dark dungeon. Her arms were pinned up over her head and her back throbbed. She exhaled as Alexander came into focus. While just her arms were tied, he was chained at the neck, the wrists, and the ankles. His blonde hair was wild around his bruised face, his tunic torn at the shoulder. It was obvious he’d put up one hell of a fight. 

“What happened?” She croaked, tugging at her hands.

“We were betrayed,” he replied, his green eyes flashing dangerously. “Your cousin went for help but who knows where he landed when the faebane set in.”

“Who betrayed you?” she asked, resting her head against cool stone. 

“I don’t know,” Alexander replied. “But they’re owed a conversation with my sword.”

His voice was cold, dripping with promise. She shivered. “And if we don’t escape?”

His eyes found hers. “Do you doubt me?”

“I hardly know you,” she admitted. Alexander’s expression didn’t change.

“I’ll have my revenge.”

Ivy didn’t know how long they sat in silence. At some point Alexander fell asleep but she could not, kept awake by her aching back and her fear. Alexander was the warrior, she the politician and though her father had taught her to use a blade she would need Alexander if she had any hope to escape. That seemed unlikely given how Alexander was literally chained at the neck. How did he plan to escape? 

While he slept, Ivy thought. Perhaps she could lull their captors into a false sense of security. She could convince them she was harmless, nothing to be worried about. Alexander certainly seemed terrifying. He was six feet, five inches of pure muscle but Ivy was small, petite, and unassuming. The humans didn’t need to know that, of the two of them, her magic was stronger.

She heard them coming from somewhere above, heard them talking.

“…Surely the female must be awake.”

“Careful, she might bite.”

There was laughter. “The male went feral when we pulled her out of that tent. If he tries anything, put a knife to her throat.”

Alexander peaked open one eye to look at her before closing it again, his chest barely moving. A moment later the heavy iron door opened and two human men came in carrying water and stinking food. 

“Well, look who is awake,” the uglier of the two crooned. “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t respond though she jerked her head to the side when the other, just as ugly and reeking of blood and rotting meat, touched her face. “She glows.”

“Why do you glow?” the first asked, his brown eyes leering. She was dressed in pants and a fitted white shirt, stained with blood and dirt and yet might as well have been naked for how their eyes roamed against her.  

“Please, let us go,” she whispered as she tried summoning her magic. Nothing came. The faebane hadn’t worn off. “We’ll do anything—”

“That one will kill us,” the second reminded her, jerking towards Alexander. He flashed his teeth, his eyes lethal. “But maybe we’ll let you go…if you do something for us?”

A bargain. Humans didn’t understand fae bargains. She could use this to her advantage. “What?”

They both chuckled. “Hows about you touch our cocks, hm?”

Stupid. Alexander didn’t move, didn’t dare react. He knew, just as she did, that bargains with the fae needed to be specific. “And if I do, you’ll let me go? Immediately?”

They laughed again. “Right away,” they agreed.

“It’s a deal,” she replied, catching how Alexander’s eyes closed for a moment. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the implication of the what she'd agreed to, but Ivy didn’t care. She’d rip their genitals from their bodies, which counted as touching, and then she’d be free. Even without her magic she trusted she was strong enough to best a couple of dimwitted humans.

“Get your strength up, then. You have a long day ahead of you,” the second said. To her surprise, he unchained her hands before shoving a cup of water into it. One sniff told her it was laced with more faebane.

“Feed that one,” the first barked, tossing a tray of rotted food at Alexander’s feet. She waited until she couldn’t hear them any longer before skittering across the damn floor for the chain around his neck. She’d never been so close to him before and the scent of him was staggering. Alexander watched, eyes huge.

“That was a clever,” he murmured as she wrenched against the restraint.

“Would you like me to torture the name of your leak from them?” she asked dryly, sitting beside him when she realized the iron holding him wouldn’t budge. He grimaced.

“Only if you feel compelled to do so. When you’re freed…don’t come back.”

“I’m not leaving you—”

“Yes you will.”

She scowled. “You think you can tell me what to do because—”

“Because I’m my father?” he interrupted, irritated. She felt a prick of guilt because yes, that was exactly what she’d been about to say. He knew it, too. 

“How long do you think it takes the faebane to wear off?” she asked instead, holding that cup in her trembling hands. 

“Longer than it’ll take us to starve to death,” he replied grimly, nodding towards the cup. He opened his mouth and she poured water in, ignoring the way her whole body seemed tighten. She sniffed the food, splitting what was edible between them before settling back against the damp, stone floor. Alexander couldn’t move and Ivy was too tired to try. There was no way out but the door, besides. The room was so small, with the tiniest, barred window just overhead.

“Do you think Nyx got back okay?” she asked.

Alexander closed his eyes again. “Let's hope so.”

“I can’t leave without you,” she whispered, the truth of the matter. “We have to work together.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied with a voice that very much betrayed his belief that he would not be leaving at all. 

Ivy could still hear the humans talking just outside the door, describing how feral Alexander had gone when they tried to take her. How he’d fought with all those protruding arrows, even when he could have escaped himself. How he’d crouched over her body, half beast, half man, until he’d been felled himself. Alexander could hear it too, his arched, pointed ears twitching softly in the dim light. She didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare ask what had provoked such a reaction. 

Why hadn’t he tried to escape? 

She didn’t think she wanted to know

*

Alexander woke to Ivy’s head on his chest. She was asleep, one hand curled against his chest, the other resting on his thigh. Something tugged in his chest, a feeling he was becoming too familiar with. He couldn’t bury it like he’d done back at the estate even as he ignored what he knew was barreling towards him. Seeing Ivy collapse in his arms, watching how she’d fallen to the ground had made him insane. He’d been unable to think of anything but protecting her, even at the expense of his own safety. It had been irrational, utterly stupid. He might have winnowed them both out if he’d kept his head on straight. 

He held himself still so he wouldn’t wake her, even though his spine ached from sitting so rigidly on the unyielding ground. Her hair spilled over his legs. It would have been an erotic sight if they’d been anywhere else. Even there, barely able to move, he felt taut and too fascinated. He shifted slightly, trying to take some of the pressure off his back. 

“You’re awake,” she murmured, her voice thick. 

“Go back to sleep,” he replied, aware it was practically impossible to sleep on the hard, stone floor. The only light they had was coming from her skin, marking her the undisputed Heir of Day Court. Dim, dull night poured through the window. They were in the human lands somewhere. That hardly bade well. 

Overhead, the humans were restless. Word had spread of Ivy’s willingness to touch them. They were all talk for the moment, boasting of all the ways they’d enjoy her. When Ivy slept, it hardly mattered what they said. Alexander had buried his hatred deep, deep down. Now, though, she stirred, pushing upwards to listen. Neither moved when their footsteps began to move towards the stairs. They were drunk if the jangling, fumbling keys in the door were any indication. Ivy looked to Alexander, who had nothing to offer her. 

“On your feet, whore,” they taunted. Ivy stood slowly, eyes shifting from their faces towards the open door. She could have run—even without magic she would have been faster than their eyes could track. She didn’t. She wasn’t leaving without him. Alexander almost hated her for it. 

There were two of them, older males by the looks of it, with graying brown hair and eyes that wrinkled at the corners. They leered at Ivy, likely the most beautiful female they’d ever seen in their lives. Alexander growled when they put their hands on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.

“He doesn’t like that,” one taunted, pulling a knife from his ill-fitting brown pants. “I hear your lot claims their women.”

Ivy’s eyes burned with hatred when the first grabbed her wrists and pushed them back into the iron manacles. 

“He’s gonna watch me claim her,” the first laughed, drawing his own sword. “You know what else they say about your kind?”

He was too close to Ivy. She reared her head back and slammed it into his own. Blood poured from the human males face. He hit her roughly, over and over until Alexander was snarling, pulling against his chains as hard as he could. The iron groaned loudly but didn’t budge.

“That’s iron,” the second said, holding his dagger close to Alexander’s cheek. “You ain’t getting from it.”

Ivy gasped, spitting blood to the floor. Her russet eyes were glassy and bright, the glow of her skin dulled. Both men rounded on her, clearly thinking her weaker. “They say your kind heals real fast,” they told her. Ivy shook her head back and forth, hands clenched to fists in her manacles. “Is that true.”

“Get fucked,” she replied furiously. Alexander could do little more but watch that blade slice brutally sharp over her forehead, taunting as it just narrowly avoided her eye to dig against her cheek, kissing over her jaw before trailing down her neck. He struggled until the iron cut brutally against his wrists, unyielding despite his strength. She gasped softly when the sharp knife trailed down her neck, avoiding the pumping artery to slide fully into her shoulder. She cried in pain, throwing her head back, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Guess they feel some pain,” the second chuckled when the knife cut from her skin, dripping red with blood. Alexander was losing himself, could feel how desperately his body wanted to shift into a beast and rip them apart. 

Ivy’s screams filled the air as they tortured her, finding sick satisfaction as they broke her leg with a vicious stomp, as they slid her shirt up over her skin to poke their knife between her ribs and beneath her breasts. Alexander snapped when he watched one of them reach for the ties of her pants, ripping one his chains clean off the wall. 

It was his chest snapping, he realized, the other hand coming loose. Both men were looking at him with fear. “It’s iron,” one said to the other, his knife clattering loudly to the ground. Alexander pulled the restraint from his neck off with ease, rising to his full height so they could soak in their fear one final time. The scent of their arousal immediately shifted to piss and fear. He didn’t need to free his feet to catch the first, the one who’d begun touching her.

Mate, instinct screamed. Touched his mate. 

Alexander ripped his head off his body without a second though, tossing the body limply to the ground. The other tried to duck past him, losing his head the same way. Blood sprayed through the room, coating them both. Ivy was panting—staring.

“Oh no,” she whispered, staring up at him. She felt it too, felt that cord that tied them together. He said nothing, too keyed up to do anything but free them both. He’d worry about the rest when they made it out. Stealing the keys from one of the headless bodies, he undid the shackles at his ankles before staggering towards her. She might have already begun to heal if their magic was restored. Her own blood dripped from her still open wounds, her leg bent at an unnatural angle. Alexander undid the irons holding her, catching her before she fell. For as aching as he was, he knew he had nothing on her. 

“Can you walk?” he asked, ignoring the obvious question between them. Touching her was a new kind of torture, equisite and terrible by equal measure. All he wanted was to touch her, to smell her, to taste her—

“No,” she grimaced, leaning heavily against him. He crouched, gesturing for her to hold his neck so he could carry her against his back. Ivy didn’t complain, didn’t protest. He could feel the hammer of her heart against his skin, thrumming painfully loud in the silence. He hooked her legs around him, ignoring the hiss of pain against his neck. 

“You can’t fight like this,” she reminded him, her mouth inches from his ear. He was going insane. She was right about that, though for the wrong reasons. If she kept talking to him like that she was going to give him an erection. Alexander was certain he couldn’t do anything when he was fully hard and aching for her. 

“I’ve fought under worse conditions,” he lied, bending for one of the blood stained knives. He pushed open the door, the ring of keys in his pocket, and began walking the pair up the winding, narrowed stairs. He felt her nose run along the skin behind his ear, causing his knees to nearly buckle.

“Stop it,” he demanded roughly, adjusting the weight of her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, maybe for the first time in her life.

“Don’t get soft on me now,” he retorted, listening for more humans. How many could he take like this? They were surprisingly fragile, soft and breakable in his hands. If he’d had his magic, it would have been no contest—but then, if Ivy had hers, there would be no need for him to shift at all. He’d heard rumors of her, of the blend of Day and Autumn Court magic thrumming through her veins. It made the other courts nervous. They kept to their own for a reason, not wanting to share their secrets. Eris Vanserra didn’t seem to care, at least. What would they say when they realized hybrid Ivy was mates with the Spring Court.

“You’re grinding your teeth,” she whispered. “Stop it.”

It only made him grind them harder. Clearly being mates hadn’t softened her feelings towards him, which was just as well. Alexander wasn’t faring much better. Wanting to fuck her and wanting to spend the rest of his life with her were two different things. She’d made his life hell for longer than he cared to admit. 

“When I’m well, I’m coming back to kill them all,” she whispered when Alexander wrenched open a door forcefully, spilling the pair into the cold night. 

“That’s the spirit,” he mumbled, surveying his surroundings. Something were innate and his good vision was one of them. He supposed he ought to thank his father for forcing years of tracking on him, of all those nights on his own with nothing but a weapon. Of course, he’d never been responsible for another injured person who was, for practical purposes, defenseless. Still, Alexander stepped into crunching snow. They were atop a mountain and no where close to home. Winnowing would be impossible. Their only option was to run. 

“Hold on,” he ordered. Ivy’s arms tangled tightly around his neck, her body taut against his own. Alexander swallowed the urge to shove her against something and take her in favor of breaking into a sprint. He needed to burn his new, restless energy. Just in time, he thought, as he began making his way down the mountainside as carefully as he dared. An alarm sounded behind him, warning the humans the fae were on the loose. Alexander almost smiled.

He hoped they were scared. 

*

Mates. Ivy turned the word over and over in her head for the duration of the night. Alexander didn’t falter though he did begin to slow as dawn approached. They were stuck atop a mountain she’d never seen before, far above a pine forest she could see lingering below. How close to Spring they were after that, well…only Alexander knew for sure. 

So they ran, faster than any human could catch, putting days between them and their would-be captors. She understood now why he assumed someone must have sold them out. If they stopped now, the humans might catch them in two days assuming they didn’t stop for breaks. By the time Alexander’s steps slowed to a plodding stop they were at the treeline. The ground was still covered in snow, still bitingly cold but better than the high elevation from before.

The fact that Alexander had run it was a testament to his training, if nothing else. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t set her down. He set her down as gently as could atop a cold, jagged rock beside a stream, dropping to a panting crouch to gulp down clean, clear water. He said nothing for a moment, working to catch his breath. 

Ivy scooted along the edge, fingering the bloodied scar over her face. It was hardly her worst injury but aesthetically, it was the most noticeable. Staring at her reflection in the rippling water, she thought she’d never looked more like her father. It was a comforting notion. Ivy couldn’t crouch like Alexander for water, could barely move her body at all. The knife wounds sliced along her body still oozed blood, battling against the shattered bone of her knee. 

He noticed, nostrils flaring. His own exhaustion was apparent in his grassy green eyes. Ivy said nothing as he paced towards her, hands clenched at his sides. “Do…do you want water?” he finally asked. 

“I can do it,” she lied, pushing herself gingerly to her feet. There was no lying between them now. He could feel her pain without having to guess, traveling down the line, golden cord now tethering them together. He hesitated for a moment, watching her balance on one foot before scooping her up like she was nothing. “I don’t want to be carried,” she complained, twisting in his arms. He grunted in response, kneeling beside the bank of the creek and setting her along the rocky shore. 

“Of course not, lady,” he offered sarcastically, scooping water in his broad, tanned hand. She drank, swallowing her dignity along with it. He helped her wipe the blood off her body, keeping his eyes to himself which she appreciated. She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened in that fortress. He’d ripped iron from stone to get to her, had torn two humans apart just for touching her. What else might he do?

He sat beside her for a moment, taking a long breath. “We should keep moving.” “Can you?” she asked. He scowled but Ivy hadn’t intended to be anything but genuine. He’d been running with her on his back for hours. Surely he was exhausted.

“I want…I need to put more distance between us,” he finally said, glancing over his shoulder. He presented his back to her and, gingerly, she climbed back on.

“I’ll try not to jostle too much,” he said after adjusting her weight. She rested her chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. 

They lapsed back into silence. The continued steps rocked his body, almost lulling her to sleep. Alexander seemed to notice, perhaps because her hair had begun spilling down his chest. “Are you still bleeding?” he asked her. “Yeah,” she admitted, her clothes.

“It should have slowed by now,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder. It was a mistake. His mouth was suddenly inches from her own. He jerked back, eyes wide. Her heart pounded, desperate to just know. What would it have been like if he had kissed her? He was clearly wondering the same. 

Thinking about him made it easier to forget the pain in her body, if nothing else. “So…High Lord, huh?” 

His whole body went stiff beneath her as if he’d been electrocuted. “So they say,” he finally agreed. She remembered Aine screaming that she might steal the High Lordship from him and Alexander’s bitter words hoping she would. Careful as she dared, Ivy asked, “Do you want to be High Lord?”

“Worried about becoming Lady of Spring?” he shot back. “I’m sure my mother could give you some pointers.” “I’ll break the bond before I go to Spring,” Ivy shot back angrily. Alexander relaxed then, as if that was what he’d been hoping to hear. She’d said it to get a rise out of him, to make him angry. Knowing he didn’t want this at all filled her with dread. 

“Do whatever you want,” he said simply. 

“Glad we agree,” she hissed, her feelings hurt. 

They made it until noon without saying another word. Alexander was coated in a slick sheen of sweat while Ivy, despite being carried, was panting against his neck. “Please,” she whispered, unable to bear another step. “Please put me down.” She had her face buried in his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers rubbed her legs reassuringly. “Soon.”

“Alex–”

“I swear,” he growled. “A few more minutes.”

It could have been hours for all she knew. She was whimpering by the time he gingerly set her to the ground. She curled on her side, inhaling through her nose and out through her mouth. She had the sense that he’d left. Good. He could go ahead and get help. She’d be alright. Her magic would return to her eventually. 

She heard his boots crunching and his soft breathing. “I thought you left.”

“Why would you think that?” he grunted over the sound of rough scraping.

“You’d be faster without me,” she murmured, sighing when a blast of heat covered her body. She thought it was her magic warming her—Ivy had always run hot—but when she opened an eye, she realized he’d found a cave and had built a fire. 

“I’m not leaving my mate–not leaving you behind,” he said fiercely, settling to the ground gingerly. 

“But you might leave me if I wasn’t?” It was supposed to be a teasing joke but her voice was too pained and soft to sound anything but pathetic.

Alexander sighed, scooting until he was just beside her. He lifted her head so she could rest it in his lap.

“No, Ivy. I wouldn’t leave you, regardless of how much you hate me.” “I don’t hate you,” she admitted. 

“What do you feel?” he pressed, fingers carding through her hair. She exhaled a pained breath.

“Drawn to you.”

“Ah,” he murmured. 

“And I suppose I’m the bane of your existence?” she tried to tease, perring up at him. His expression was unreadable, dark and soft in equal measure.

“You are the loveliest female I’ve ever seen,” he finally said, each word forced from his mouth as though it pained him to say it. “That has always been true.”

He leaned against the rocky cave wall. “Your father is going to kill me.”

She couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t that he was Tamlin’s son as much as he was just any male who felt he had a claim on Lucien’s daughter. While Soren had been given a longer leash to galavant about, Ivy had always been her daddy’s little girl. He didn’t like the males of his own court sniffing around.

“Helion will be worse,” she finally said with a soft smile.

“And your uncle—”” “Eris will think it’s funny,” she interrupted, certain of that. “He loves these kinds of cosmic jokes.”

“I meant your uncle Rhysand,” Alexander finished, his thumb trailing over the gash across her eye. 

“Oh. Well…him and my dad tolerate each other at best…so you don’t have to worry too much. It’s not like you’re mated to Nyx—”

“Cauldron save me,” Alexander mumbled. There was more silence and then, “Does that mean you’ll accept the bond?”

“You said you didn’t want it,” she winced, rolling to her back. Ignoring Alexander’s heavy gaze overhead, she pulled her shirt upwards, horrified by what she saw. Instead of healing, like even a humans wounds might have done, hers were festering. Puckered and greenish around the edges, Ivy knew what she was looking at.

“Fuckers,” Alexander swore, hands hovering over the inflamed wounds. “They poisoned the blade.”

“How far are we?” she asked, pulling down her shirt. Her heart pounded a frantic beat in her throat, washing her blood with panic. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“You have to go ahead,” she gasped, grabbing his hand. “Leave me here, I’ll—”

“Absolutely not,” he snarled, his body practically vibrating with rage. 

“I’m slowing you down,” she protested. Alexander shook his head, blonde waves framing his wild face. 

“I’ll leave you over my dead body,” he swore. “Don’t ask me again.”

His words settled some of her fear. She curled closer to him, eyes heavy. “Will you wake me in an hour?”

His fingers brushed her cheek. “Of course, lady.”

She barely heard him at all before drifting into sleep.

*

Alexander let Ivy sleep longer than hour, checking her forehead for a temperature every couple minutes. Her skin was blazing hot, her face far too pale for someone with her golden complexion. He left her more than once to collect water. He told himself it was the bond demanding he care for there, that instinct made him want to care for his mate. It was flimsy in his own head. She was delirious, talking about being drawn to him and still it gave him far too much hope.

“Hey,” he murmured as darkness began to settle around them again. He wanted to keep moving, to get out of the cold if he could. “Ivy, wake up.”

She roused but just barely. “Are we home?” she asked him sleepily, nuzzling her head further into his lap. He had to move her, wondering if he was a monster for feeling so aroused while she was so badly injured. 

“Not yet. Come in. Can you climb on my back?”

It was easier to run when he didn’t have to carry her in his arms. Ivy nodded, pushing herself upwards on trembling, weak arms. He was concerned about the state of her wounds. The one on her face was bright red—it would scar if he didn’t get her to a healer. The thought of anything marrying her lovely face was sacrilegious. 

She held herself on his neck, head resting against his shoulder. Alexander had put out the fire before he left. Their tracks would be easy to follow in the snow even for clumsy, slow humans. Alexander ran again, sliding down the mountain with practiced ease. She didn’t move or speak like before. Her head bounced off his body, arms slackening only to retighten when she realized she was about to fall. Over and over, Alexander felt her grip him only to nearly slide off his back.

He’d be lucky if she managed another day like this. As he ran, he battled with his insides, trying to find even a kernel of magic he could use to get them back to Spring and to healer. It was all he thought of through the night, racing through a dark, endless sea of pine trees. He hated the cold, hated how it bit against his skin until it was all he could taste.

The dawn brought a shift in the treeline, warming the air noticeably until he was certain he must be close to Spring. Maybe not his Spring, but a human Spring none the less. They were nearing the base of the mountain and Alexander found himself facing down a new worry. Humans were likely to be lurking nearby. What would happen if they came upon their pair of them, starving and injured and newly mated? 

It was well past noon by the time he tracked down another cave for them to take shelter in. He left her long enough to build another fire and stalk after a lean looking deer, bringing it down with bare, bloodied hands. While Ivy slept on the cave floor, he carved it up carefully, roasting and eating until he felt almost settled.

“Ivy,” he tried again for the second time that day. She was harder to rouse, her lips chapped, skin ashen. Even her pretty hair seemed duller than it had before. She managed to open her good eye, peeking up at him with listless eyes.

“Are we home?” she asked him, reaching for his hand.

“Not yet,” he replied, hauling her into his lap. “You need to eat.”

She shook her head no. “No food.”

“Yes, food,” he insisted, pressing a piece of meat against her lips. “Open your mouth.”

It was the fever that made her complaint. She let him push the food against her tongue, unaware of how his fingertips lingered against the soft skin of her mouth. He swallowed hard. 

“It tastes like ash,” she complained, swallowing anyway. Alexander chuckled.

“Well, I’m not known for my cooking.” She pressed her head against his shoulder, inhaling again. One hand curled over the neckline of his shirt, fingers brushing over his skin. “What are you known for?”

“I…” he didn’t know. “My bees.”

That caught her attention. “Bees?” she questioned, nose nuzzling against his neck. He had to shift, to move her face to keep himself from hardening against her. He couldn’t help it—she was hurt, was seeking comfort the only way her inflamed brain knew how—instinct was screaming for him to claim her before another male did. 

“Spring is filled with flowers, as you may have noticed,” he murmured, rubbing his hand over her cool arm. “And flowers bring bees. I…” he’d never told anyone this, felt almost ashamed to admit it. “I keep bees.”

“You should see mama’s garden,” she murmured sweetly. “You’d be drowning in bees.”

“Oh?” 

“I’d keep away from Soren’s garden…he’s always planting poison but mama’s garden rivals your fathers. It’s so big and beautiful…I’ll bet she’d love it if you gave the bees a home.”

“That would mean coming to your court,” he reminded her. She smiled faintly.

“As consort. The first ever…male, anyway.”

His heart pounded roughly as he pushed her hair off her face. “I would, Ivy.” Her eyes were fluttering shut again, brushing sweetly against her cheek. “No male wants to play second to his female. You’re going to be High Lord, remember?” “No,” he replied, his voice insistent. She peeked back up at him, her hope so plain it made his chest ache. “I don’t want it. I never have.”

She sighed softly. “Remind me if we survive.”

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he tried, but Ivy was asleep again, her chest rising and falling slowly. “Ivy.”

She didn’t rouse, not when night fell and he needed her to climb on his back. She was burning hot despite the faint blue of her cheeks of how violently she was shivering. He dared to look beneath her shirt at her wounds, almost sick by what he saw. They were more than just inflamed but festering, slowly killing her in the most terrible way he could imagine. He could do nothing but watching, cradling her against his chest as he willed himself to winnow home. His magic was but a small flame, practically useless to him other than to verify it existed at all. 

She groaned when he stood, carrying her while he walked. Night had fallen yet again, giving him the cover he needed to stalk through the woods. They reminded him of home, had that same feeling of creeping magic. He ran as best he could, unable to keep himself from jostling her still bleeding body. Only once did he stumble on a pair of hunters, human males with bows and sharp hunting knives.

Alexander froze, holding Ivy closer to his body, teeth bared. He was vibrating, the urge to shift into a beast rippling just beneath his skin. 

“Your kind isn’t supposed to be on this side of the wall,” the first, palms raised outward defensively, was obviously nervous.

“We were brought here,” Alexander growled. “We don’t want anymore trouble.”

The second was peering at Ivy, his eyes too curious for Alexanders liking. He yanked her away, causing Ivy to moan softly in pain. 

“Looks like your friend is hurt,” the second said gently. He crouched to the ground slowly, slinging a leather bag off his shoulder. “I’ve got something that could help.”

“It’s your kind who did this. Why would you help?” he snarled. The second tossed a pouch halfway between their bodies before slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

“We’re not all monsters,” the first murmured, his dull eyes sympathetic. “I imagine your lot isn’t, either.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” the second added. “Wall is about two days walk east, if you’re trying to get back.”

Alexander waited until they crunched away, neither looking back. He had to set Ivy against a nearby tree to snatch the pouch. He inhaled it, recognizing some of the spices within. It wouldn’t fix her—nothing but a healer would—but it would slow her building infection long enough for Alexander to get to the wall.

He wasted an hour creating a poultice, using leaves and the tattered edges of his shirt to create a bandage. He pressed it against her wounds, careful to touch no other part of her. She whined more than once, twisting against the sting. 

“You’re hurting me,” she complained, reaching for her face to pull off the concoction. Alexander swatted her hand away.

“We’re two days from the wall,” he told her, hoisting her back into his arms. “According to humans. If we run, we can be there by morning.”

“I can’t run,” she protested. He almost laughed.

“I know you can’t, sweetheart. Just hold on, okay?”

“To your back?” 

He hesitated. He could move much quicker if he didn’t have to carry her. “Can you?”

“I’ll try,” she whispered. Using the sturdy, rough trunk of a tree, Ivy braced herself on one leg, wrapping her arms around his neck while he held her legs. 

“Good?” he asked, squirming against her mouth, touching his neck.

“Good,” she agreed. Relieved, Alexander took off with a burst of renewed energy. He could have done a full day like that, despite his lack of sleep. Knowing they were so close to the wall—close to home—made Alexander almost giddy with relief. Ivy, for her part, held tight just as she’d promised. Alexander vowed to find the humans who’d helped them and repay their kindness someday. 

“Look,” Alexander told her when that shimmering border to stone and metal came into view. Ivy practically sobbed her relief. Alexander maneuvered through it with the magic that had begun to return, undulled behind the dam. Ivy took a breath the moment they were out of the human lands, holding a hand in front of his face. Pale skin glowed again. 

“I can feel it,” she whispered. “It’s almost there.”

Alexander, too, thought they were probably a full day or so before the magic returned to them. They pressed forward, both conscious, both hopeful. He’d been so afraid she might die out there that Alexander could have laughed his relief into the lilac scented air of his home. He knew where he was now, recognized the hilly plains in front of him. Pink and yellow tulips swayed gently in the night air, dancing beside welcoming blades of grass. 

He saw the estate gleaming in the distance just as the sun broke the horizon, illuminating the gleaming ivory orange and pink.

“Father!” he roared, his steps slowing. Ivy’s arms tangled tightly around his neck, held at the wrist by one of his hands. He used his other arm to hold up her bad leg, letting her hold the rest of her body herself. “Father!”

It wasn’t Tamlin but Lucien Vanserra who appeared at the edge of the drive. The male looked haggard, his face nearly as pale as his daughters. He caught sight of them first, darting across the lawn for Ivy.

“What happened?” he demanded, prying Alexander’s hand off her to pull her gently against him. 

“We were ambushed,” Alexander said as his father approached. Tamlin seemed better rested, perhaps less concerned of the horror that might befall his son. “She needs a healer.”

Ivy reached for him limply, her pretty face half covered in a stinking poultice. The wind ruffed against them, bringing more than the smell of their unwashed bodies with it. Lucien turned furiously, snarling his rage at Alexander.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded, as if Alexander had any say in the matter at all. 

“Daddy,” Ivy murmured. “It was an accident.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Lucien retorted, taking one step backwards before winnowing into darkness. Alexander lunged as if pulled by a string, furious another male was carrying away his mate. His father caught him before he could create a scene, letting Lucien and Ivy vanish in a cloud of smoke.

“You need to bathe,” Tamlin murmured. “And sleep before you do anything else.”

Alexander rounded on his father. “I’ll do as you ask. But when I wake, I want you to know I’m abdicating my place for High Lord. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t throw away your life on a female—” his father began, speaking from a place of too personal experience.

“I never wanted it,” Alexander snarled, stalking towards the front of the manor. “And the cauldron must have known it.”

After all. It had paired him with the future High Lady of Day. Only one of them could rule.

It would not be him.

*

“Just pry open her lips.”

“You pry them open, I’m not going to hurt her.”“Fine, I’ll open but you pour.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’m starting to think you like insufferable—”“Over your dead body, Vanserra.”

“How many times do I have to remind you? I’m not a Vanserra, I’m a Spell-Cleaver–”

“Stop it.” Ivy moaned, opening her eyes to see who was squabbling at her bedside. Soren was sitting on the edge, his auburn curls flopping obnoxiously into his fawn brown eyes. On the otherside was a female she’d never seen before—pretty, with her long curtain of jet black hair and her soft, upturned brown eyes. She was glowing the way both Soren and Ivy did, though the light was a brighter white. Ivy knew that glow.

“Dawn?” she asked stupidly, looking up at the olive skinned female peering down at her.

“I’m Mei,” she explained, holding out a vial. “This is for the faebane that might be lingering, and this is for your wounds.”

“Who did you piss off?” Soren asked, eyes twinkling. “You were half-dead when dad brought you in. He’s raging, by the way.”

Ivy took one of the glass vials and swallowed, choking against the strong minty flavor. The other was easier, a bright citrus that was almost sweet. Ignoring the strange female, Ivy pushed the blanket off her bed and yanked up the fresh shirt she wore. Thin, white scars cut across the brown of her skin, forever etched in reminder. Soren grimaced when her fingers reached for her face. “How bad is it?”

“It looks cool,” Mei said quickly, glancing at Soren. “Like you survived something.”

Ivy noticed the gold of her hand, clicking softly the same way their fathers eye did. Her eyes slid to Soren, who pressed his lips into a thin line. “I told you. Dad is in a rage. Mom practically chained him to the wall.”

Ivy took a breath, sitting up against a wall of cream colored pillows. “How long have I been asleep.”

“A week,” Soren offered, scooting closer on the bed. “You know, there are some things even I can’t See…like your death, for example. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I suppose not,” Soren agreed as Mei made a quick excuse to leave. Ivy watched the slender female slip from the room, catching the all-too familiar scent trailing after her. The moment the door shut behind her, Ivy punched Soren in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he protested, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“A mate?” Ivy demanded. Soren grinned.

“Ah, well. It’s going about as well as you might expect. She’s not exactly thrilled with the prospects. Our family reputation precedes us.”

“Have you tried being nice?”

He tapped a finger to his chin. “Nice…nice…no, can’t say I’ve ever thought of that. Speaking of which…a certain Spring Court warrior is making the wildest claims about you…”

“Like you didn’t already know,” she grumbled. “Why don’t you spare me the trouble and tell me how it all ends.”

“You know how it ends,” Soren replied serenely, flicking her in the cheek. 

“And you?” Ivy couldn’t help but question, resting her head on her brother's shoulder. “How does it end for you.”

“If I told you, I’d spoil my own fun,” he replied with a sigh. “Mom’s baking tonight, by the way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me because I look underfed?”

He shrugged. “I’m saying maybe you should wait another day before you go racing out of here to make an impulsive, highly questionable decision.”

Ivy glowered, her insides warming at the thoughts. “It all works out, in the end, doesn’t it?”

Soren bumped her shoulder. “I told you, Ives. Some things even I can’t See. I have faith, though. You should, too.”

“Be nice to your mate,” she told him, poking him hard in the ribs. Soren scowled.

“Has it ever occurred to you that it’s her being mean to me?”

“If she is, I have to assume you deserve it.”

“A fair conclusion,” he murmured. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll let mom and dad know you’re awake.”

Ivy didn’t think she could sleep anymore but as she so often was lately, she was wrong. She woke with a jerk to fingers touching her face. Night had fallen and her father was there, replacing the space her brother had occupied. He was illuminated beneath soft fae lights, his face one of anguish. 

“Your pretty face,” he murmured, his golden eye clicking softly.

“It’s still pretty,” Ivy assured him sleepily, sliding back into a sitting position. She bent her knee, relieved to find it intact and unbothered. 

“Your mother will be right back. She went to check on her bread. She bakes when she’s nervous.”

Elain Archeron was always baking. Ivy didn’t bother telling her dad that her mom baked to give him something to do, and that of the pair, he had always been the one who worried. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“No?” her father arched an eyebrow. “I take my eye off of you for one minute and you get captured by humans and mated to one of Tamlin’s sons…”

Ivy looked down at her hands. “He saved my life.”

“So I’ve heard. Your cousin went through his mind—”

“He had no right,” she hissed, furious Nyx would do such a thing. Her father sighed.

“Alexander demanded it. It was good to know, though…good for us to see. Elain and I met with Vassa this morning to discuss it…she’s sending your Uncle Jurian out to deal with them.”

“And the leak—”

“Handled.” That was all Ivy would ever get to know from her father. She was sure Alexander had in his brutal, unyielding way. Her father shifted, holding out an arm so she could rest against his chest. “You know, you don’t have to make any decisions today. Or even this century,” he added after a moment. 

“Did you say the same thing to Soren?” she demanded.

“Mei is far too good for your brother and she is well aware of it,” her father replied easily, a fond smile over his face. “I don’t have to worry about him…he has that Vanserra blood, whether he wants to admit it or not but you have your mothers soft heart.”

“Seems like it worked out all right for you,” she reminded him pointedly. 

“In retrospect, a little suffering was good for me. Humbling, even,” he added as the door opened. Elain Archeron slipped in, lovely as the first light of dawn, her eyes reproachful.

“That’s not how I remember it,” she murmured playfully. “And you promised you weren’t going to bother her about her mate. 

“So I did,” he agreed sheepishly. Her mother set a tray of food on the edge of the bed, reminding Ivy that her mother showed love this way. Giving some something tangible–a meal, a good gift—was almost better than hearing her say she loved them. Not that her mom had ever been stingy with that, either. 

Her mother kissed her forehead sweetly. “Eat and ignore whatever your father has romanticized about the past. I assure you, he enjoyed none of it.”

“It was good for me!” Lucien protested, letting his mate tug him off the bed. He also pressed a swift kiss against Ivy’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, still,” he told her quickly, fingertips brushing her jaw. “Let Alexander suffer for a while.”

“Lucien!”

“What?! You’re ready for some frenzied male to come snapping in our home? You know how feral they can be! She’s still a baby—”“I am not!” Ivy protested, arms over her chest. Her mother shoved her father from the room playfully, listening to his complaints echo down the hall. There were a million things to consider, things she had no plan for. Ivy thought maybe she didn’t need any of those things.

All she needed were a few bees.

Ivy dressed the next morning just as Soren suggested she ought to. Her dress was perhaps a little risque for Spring, the criss-crossing gold fabric covering her breasts but leaving a triangle of her stomach and all over her back exposed. The skirt of it trailed to the ground, hiding the sandals she always wore. She’d taken great care with her appearance, making her face seem as if it glowed beneath the oppressively bright sun. 

She managed to avoid her parents simply by getting up before dawn and stealing to the kitchen. Just as Soren claimed, there were baked goods along all the surfaces. The staff worked around them without complaint, used to the Day Court princess and her strange ways. Ivy stole a slice of lemon poppyseed bread, wrapping it carefully in a piece of beeswax before leaving the palace behind. She’d be back.

She hoped she wouldn’t be returning alone. Buoyed by that thought and so wildly nervous she could have vomited on the marble steps leading into Rhodes, Ivy winnowed away, hitting the gravel of Spring before her stomach had a chance to catch up. She crunched up towards the estate, heart leaping into her mouth when the High Lord himself walked to the porch. His pine eyes were unreadable, face impassive when he saw her. It was technically forbidden to trespass this way—she should have written head and requested permission. Tamlin would be well within his right to send her home.

His eyes drifted towards the beeswax in her hands, nostrils flaring at the scene. She didn’t have to say a word. Tamlin spoke first. “He’s in the forest.” “Thank you,” she whispered, turning towards the forest at the back of the house. She had to cut through the garden to reach it, catching sight of Aine watching in a pale pink dress on the back terrace. It was Saoirse who drew her in, Finn just beside her. Did they all plan to watch and see what happened? No pressure, then. 

The only person seemingly unaware was Alexander himself. Ivy had hoped he might meet her at the tree line. She inhaled the sweet, floral air, catching the scent of warm pine on the air. She followed it, surprised that she could just follow the bond between them like a rope along the ground. She went in deeper, sandals catching on every stick strewn about the ground. The soft thwack of an axe grew louder until Ivy, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress, found Alexander shirtless in a clearing, splitting an absurd pile of logs. She hesitated, eyes lingering on his taut, rippling muscles as he brought that axe down.

She cleared her throat and Alexander went still when he saw her. “You’re alive,” he said, eyes sliding up and down her body. Ivy was scared suddenly and wondered if her father hadn’t had a point. She’d come all this way for what? To give him a piece of bread and ask him to move in with her? She barely knew him. 

“I uh…thank you,” she finally said, catching how his eyes snagged on the parcel in her hands. He knew why she’d come, then. She could practically taste his relief, more than a little awed at how it flooded her chest. Alexander took a step forward, reaching for the sword he’d tossed beside his shirt on the ground. She didn’t know what to expect when he unsheathed it, only that he probably wasn’t going to stab her.

He knelt at her feet, bowing his head in front of his hilt. “I know you’re worried my male pride will get in the way of your ambition,” he told her, shoulders bunched tightly. “I meant what I said, though you might have been to delirious to hear it. I don’t want any piece of your power…or my own, for that matter. I’ve told father I’m renouncing my claim as High Lord.”

“You shouldn’t do that for me,” Ivy murmured, resisting the urge to touch his hair. 

“It’s for me,” he admitted, finally looking up. “I never wanted it…I was only too much of a coward to admit it. It was a choice I made for myself…I want you. And I’ll wait, if you’re unsure, but you need to know that even if you wait a century, I’ll never claim the Spring Court throne.”

Too handsome, her mind screamed as she stared into his eyes. Take him, he’s yours. She’d been so sick during the first days of the mating bond snap that everything felt brand new and overwhelming. Instinct coursed through her, demanding she reach for him. 

“And what happens the first time someone has a snide thing to say about your status as consort?” she asked, fingers slightly smushing the bread in her hands.

“I trust you can handle yourself,” he replied with a shrug. “And if you can’t, they’ll taste the steel of my blade.”

“Okay, alright,” she grumbled, holding her slice of bread out to him. Alexander looked at the waxy piece of beeswax, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. It was strange to see him so easily undone. He looked as if nothing scared him. She supposed that was a good quality to have if he was going to join her family. He’d need more than a little nerve.

“This is forever,” he told her breathlessly, fingertips brushing the yellow loaf in his hands.

“Good thing, then,” she agreed. “I’m terribly jealous.”

She knew what he wanted to say but Ivy could not make herself say it first. Alexander stood, letting his sword fall to the side. “And you love me.”

“You ripped four iron rings from a wall to save me,” she murmured, pressing a hand to his chest. “It would be hard not to love you.”

The corner of his lips twitched. “And I’d do it again.”

“Eat the bread, Alexander.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved the entire thing in his mouth like a wild bear, his eyes flashing as if to say no take backs.

She took a breath at the feeling in her chest. That thread became gold, solidly tied to her ribs. There would be no breaking it now. She didn’t move when he came closer, his fingers threading through her hair. “I love you too, Ivy.” “This doesn’t mean I’m going to be nicer, you know,” she murmured, heart stuttering in her chest.

“I’d be disappointed if you were.”

*

Of all the things Alexander had done that Lucien Vanserra might kill him for, fucking his daughter on the woodland floor was likely at the very top. Over the past week, he’d imagined every single possibility in which she accepted the bond and he sank into the frenzy. Most of them involved bring her back to his suite while occasionally going to hers. All of them had a bed and someplace soft, someplace quiet. Fucking outdoors was for Calanmai and the common people. It certainly wasn’t for a princess.

It couldn’t be helped. He’d taken all of one step, meaning to grab his shirt when Ivy said, “I’ve never had sex before.”

He froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. She might as well have begun running the way that predators instinct raged through him. Every inch of him was suddenly on high alert, as if a parade of males were lurking in the forest, thinking of stealing her from him. He knew it wasn’t logical.

Alexander couldn’t help himself. He suddenly understood what everyone meant when they talked about frenzied, irrational males. He turned to look at her, forgetting his shirt and his sword. “What?”

She took a half step backwards, nearly touching a tree truck at the edge of the clearing. “I just thought you should know…”

“Why not?”

Ivy shrugged, stepping back again, her russet eyes wide as he approached. She was so small, her head easily tucked beneath his chin. She didn’t need to be protected and still he wanted to. The fact that she’d waited was almost too much. Day Court was famous for their orgies. He had no illusions she hadn’t participated at least once. 

He reached for her face, thumb caressing the thin, white scar streaking down her golden brown face. “You’re too sweet,” he told her.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, lips parted. Kissing her would be enough, he told himself. He’d kiss her, he’d get his shirt, and he’d take her inside. His parents would know to vacate his siblings for the evening. He only needed her once to clear his head. “I just thought…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Good,” he growled, pulling her forward. Every thought flew out the window the moment her lips touched his, arms twined around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach him, her whole body pressed against the length of his own. Alexander’s eyes practically rolled in the back of his head at the heady, soft sunlit taste of her. He felt starved, needed her like he’d never needed anything in his life. His hands gripped her waist tightly, wanting to see that dress on strewn over the ground. He wanted to see her spread out over the ground, bathed in grass, her back pressed into the dirt.

His tongue swept into her mouth, eliciting the softest little moan from her throat. Alexander’s fraying restraint snapped. He couldn’t help himself. He needed more of her, needed to hear her make that noise over and over. She tasted the way magic felt, her body warm and pliant beneath his hands. He didn’t know who dragged who to the ground though he was aware it was him pulling her into his lap so he could grind her against him. 

Her hands rubbed against his chest, creating near burning friction. Her magic was bad, causing sparks of heat and light to jump over the surface of his skin. He groaned, twisting so she was laid over the ground just as he’d imagined moment before. Leaves immediately tangled in her wine red hair, making her look like some goddess of light, coming to earth specifically to bless him. 

“This wasn’t what I imagined,” he told her desperately, getting the fabric of her dress off around her head. He was careful not to tear, aware he’d have to walk her back to his court or hers. He’d be damned if he let any other male look at her naked body. 

“What did you imagine?” she asked breathlessly, her naked breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her head lolled to the side, breath hitching when he grasped them, fingers massing the peaked, dusky nipples. 

“A bed,” he replied, kissing the length of her neck. “Time to have you in all the ways I want you.”

“Tell me,” she breathed moments before their mouths collided with another messy kiss. Her legs hooked around his waist, dress pushed down to her hips. He was achingly hard and desperate for relief. There were things he needed to do before he could bury himself within her, before he could mark her thoroughly with his scent. He caught one of her legs, sliding his hand up her thighs towards the heat pooling between her legs. Her arousal perfumed the air, driving him half wild. 

He couldn’t tell her anything while he kissed her, even as he slid his fingers towards that heat. She writhed, her body moving on instinct. Her knees fell apart, giving him unparalleled access. 

Ivy might not have sexual experience but she knew exactly how to drive him over the edge. He slid a finger inside her body, his mouth trailing down her body so he could kiss each of those scars, making them his.

She gasped, squeezing tight around him. His eyes practically rolled inside his head at the silky soft feel of her. He was so utterly fucked and he knew it. If he lasted longer than a minute when he got his cock inside her, it would be cause for a parade. He worked in another finger just to see if he could, pressing his forehead between her breasts to gather himself. 

“Is this what you imagined?” she asked him sweetly, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He pumped his fingers in and out, pushing them apart if only to get her used to the stretch. She arched her back for him, his own little private show in that grassy clearing. He withdrew his hands, desperate for a taste. Ivy watched with dark eyes, shaking her head back and forth when he put them in his mouth.

“You’re filthy,” she murmured.

“You have no idea,” he agreed, pulling her back to his lap so she could straddle his chest. “Touch me.”

He slid further down until her cunt was positioned just over his face. She squirmed against him, lifting a leg in an attempt to escape but Alexander held firm.

“Touch my cock, Ivy,” he demanded before licking up the center of her. She gasped again before leaning forward, her fingers clumsily untying the laces of his pants. He was distracted, lapping at her slowly, drinking in the musky taste of her.

Cool air danced over the overheated flesh of his cock. Her sweet, sharp intake of breath pleased him. 

“Stop smiling,” she snapped. “I have nothing to compare it to.”

“And you never will,” he assured her, kissing her thigh. She gripped the base of him, fingers unable to touch and Alexander redoubled his efforts. He wanted her to come on his tongue before he had her, wanted to feel how she might break apart against his lips and his penis. Her hand was unsure for the first few strokes, pumping and gauging with almost academic interest. Alexander curled his tongue inside her body, dragging a loud moan out of her, while prompting her to press her own lips to the beaded moisture at the tip of his cock. 

It was his turn to shudder a groan. “Did you imagine this?” she asked him, gliding the flat of her tongue up his shaft.

“Yes,” he admitted with a ragged breath. 

“I can’t take all this,” she murmured, as if he cared at all.

“You have centuries to practice,” he replied, too pleased when her teeth lightly nipped at his skin. She could take hardly more than the head without gagging, saliva flooding her mouth. Alexander groaned loudly, disturbing a flock of birds roosting overhead. He’d forgotten what he was doing for a moment, head thrown back, eyes closed.

“That’s perfect,” he praised. “You’re perfect.” She didn’t stop though she hummed a whine, the reverberation settling in his balls. She’d make him come with those little noises, with her wet, warm mouth sucking him. He redoubled his efforts by way of distraction, desperate to be fully seated in her, to know nothing but the feel of her body squirming under him, meeting him thrust for desperate thrust. He knew he had her when her mouth stopped working him, her hand falling from his shaft to his stomach to hold herself in place. Her hips ground against his face desperately, voice rising with each new stroke of his tongue. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking softly just in time for her to come apart, screaming loud enough for everyone at home to hear. The forest went silent for a moment, listening to the pair of them with interest. In Spring, two fae fucking in the woods was hardly cause for concern. It was practically his birthright.

He flipped her over rather than impale her, pushing her knees wide apart while she still came down. He pulled the swollen lips of her pussy open, watching her ride out that orgasm desperately. Alexander took himself in his hand, rubbing his head over the slickness, reveling in the undulations of her aftershock. He gave her no time to adjust at all, sliding the full length of his long, thick cock wholly into her body.

She arched hard off the ground, fingers scrambling for his shoulder. He kissed her, holding himself still despite every nerve begging him to move. Her heartbeat banged against her ribs, the feel of it a flutter against his own bare chest. He kissed her, tongue delving into her mouth so she could taste herself, until she lifted her hips. She was an offering and he was far too weak to resist. That first slide was heaven and hell all mixed together. Nothing had ever felt half as good in his life. He might have died for all he knew.

She exhaled softly, her nails dragging down his back. “This is what I want,” he told her, grunting the words between thrusts. “This is what I imagined.”

“Just like this?” she asked as he pulled himself back. He wanted to watch, fascinated by how accommodating her body was. She squeezed, sucking him deeper, taking everything he had to give. 

“Just like this,” he praised. “You take my cock so well.”

It was the only place she’d ever let him talk to her like this. He’d take it, take all of her and still beg for more. As release began to rise through him, tightening in his sac, Alexander knew there would never be a moment where he’d had enough. His thumb rubbed circles over her clit, dragging her back up with him until she was writhing, her rhythm non-existent as she brought herself to climax. He went with her, the roar of release almost embarrassing if he cared who overheard him. Let the whole fucking world know he’d pleasured is mate and he’d pleasured her well. 

He lowered himself back to the ground, stroking her hair and kissing her. He alternated between the two until the bright flush of her cheeks slipped away and her eyes lost their lusty haze. Only then did he pull himself from her body, revealing in the rush of fluid that escaped her. She was marked now and everyone would know it, would scent it. It was more than the bond between them but the completion of this act—followed by more sex, preferablly until the end of time. 

“I think there’s a rock in my back,” she said, pushing him back so she could sit up. The mere act piqued his interest all over again. She watched him warily, slowly reaching for her dress. He growled.

“One more time,” she whispered, her swollen lips parting ever so slightly. “But then we go home.”

He didn’t agree to that.

They’d be out here all night. 

*

Ivy managed to convince Alexander they ought to go inside for something to drink after twelve hours of nothing but fucking. Her back was dirty and scraped raw, her body somehow both aching and desperate for more of him. The frenzy had her by the throat in a way Ivy had not been prepared for. She’d thought it a mere excuse for a new couple to lock themselves up for a few days and avoid well-wishers. 

By the time they reached Day Court, she felt snappish and moody, frustrated by even strangers who looked over at the Spring Court prince. Her father was waiting, arms crossed over his chest with very obvious disappointment. Had he really expected her to wait a century? She’d been lucky she waited a full week.

Beside him, her mother’s excitement was undiminished. Nothing could disappoint Elain Archeron. At least, not where her family was concerned. She reached for Alexander, pulling him into a hug before immediately stepping back, nose wrinkled.

“Let's try again in a month,” she joked affectionately, her cheeks flushed darkly. Even after nearly three decades as Fae, she had all her human sensibilities. 

“Your room has been moved,” her father told her. “For larger accommodations.”

Far away from his own room was what she knew he hadn’t added. Tamlin, too, had discreetly taken the rest of his family when he saw the two of them approaching, packing up for their water estate and, more practically, avoiding overhearing what they’d surely known was happening in the woods.

Ivy raised her eyebrows, forcing her father to look at Alexander. “Welcome to Day Court,” he grumbled, clearly displeased with this turn of events. Alexander was absurdly kind, bowing with a grace her father absolutely did not reserve.

“I’ll endeavor to make you happy about our marriage,” Alexander informed their father, winking at Ivy’s grinning mother. He slipped an arm around her waist, letting her lead him into the palace with big, wonder-filled eyes. Day Court’s palace was twice as big as Spring Courts and the last time he’d been inside, he’d hardly had any time to appreciate it. 

“Where is Soren?” she asked, well aware her parents were skulking just behind her. There was a pause long and loud enough to make her turn. 

“Your brother is exactly where he wants to be,” her father finally said. That was true enough, she supposed. Soren was obnoxious with Sight in a way their mother never had been. He just knew, and if he didn’t like what he saw, he simply did not go.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, arms over her chest. Her mother stepped forward.

“Vassa asked him to see if he might uncover the gas the humans used on the pair of you,” she said earnestly.

“And we haven’t heard from him since he left.” Ivy frowned. “What are you worried about? Soren isn’t the letter writing type.”

“He took Mei with him and she’s the one no one has heard from. Thesan is concerned.”

“We’ll find them—” Alex began but Elain held up her hand.

“Soren is exactly where he wants to be,” she repeated. “He’ll return in his own time.”

“With Mei?” Ivy demanded, echoing Alexander’s sentiments. “How important is she to Dawn?”

“He won’t return without her,” Lucien said tightly, a reminder that a male wouldn’t abandon his mate. Soren would come back, limping, bruised and utterly unrepentant in a few days with his female in tow or they’d find his body scattered across Prythian. Ivy didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

“You’re in no condition to go after him,” her father added. “He’s likely to kill every male in sight which is hardly the promise I made to Vassa.”

Alexander merely shrugged. What did he care about diplomacy anymore? That was her problem. 

“Two days,” Ivy conceded. “Two days and then Aunt Vassa be damned.”

Her parents couldn’t argue, in part because Ivy didn’t give them a chance. She strolled away, sliding her hand in Alexanders as she went.

“Are you really giving him two days?” Alexander asked, guessing her thoughts before she ever had a chance to vocalize it. Ivy looked over her shoulder as she tugged him up a sweeping staircase.

“No. I’ll give him twelve hours while we get ready.”

He grinned. “And if I do kill some unfortunate male that gets a little too close?”

“Do your best not to,” she instructed. “But we did promise those humans a little retribution. Lets give it to them.”

*

Soren:

Soren stared up at the grated top of the pit he was trapped in. He’d seen the fall of course, had known he’d end up down here. He’d even brought rope in his bag to pull himself back out. Sight was a tricky thing—it didn’t show everything as it was. Little pieces, pictures of a larger puzzle, was all he ever got. He gambled on the rest. He’d never once been wrong until today.

Mei sat opposite him in the dirt, her pretty face streaked with mud. He was here because she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d have come with or without him. Better to be with him. After all, he had the sword hidden beneath his tunic, strapped at his back. He’d been trained by his uncles from the time he was a boy, knew his way around a sword. He also had the same Day Court magic Ivy boasted of, though hers was stronger, more heavily concentrated in light than the fire coursing through his veins. 

Mei accused him of being a Vanserra. Maybe she was right. At least neither of them were injured beyond a few bruises and still had their magic. He didn’t know if he could carry Mei down a mountain. He certainly didn’t want to find out.

Her eyes found him, narrowing to slits. “Why does it seem like you’re enjoying this?” she demanded. 

Because I am. “Is it so wrong to enjoy your company?” he replied smoothly. 

“At the bottom of a ditch? Yes,” she hissed. Soren shrugged casually. Humans would come checking on their Faerie traps. He needed to end his little game. Standing, Soren stretched long legs before pulling his long, auburn hair off his face with a leather strap. Standing on his tiptoes, he could reach one of the wooden bars preventing them from escaping. Humans were so stupid. They’d used iron on Ivy and Alexander—perhaps they’d learned their lesson though it would have been harder to pull apart an iron grate. He didn’t possess the Spring Courts supernatural strength. He reached for his boot, keeping his sword hidden for now. He didn’t need her knowing he’d come a little too prepared. He pulled out a curved, sharp dagger he’d snatched off Finn during the week the courts had come traipsing about Day Court. Spring had the most fascinating weapons.

Mei frowned, rising to her feet to watch him leap up, gripping one of the slats, dagger held between his teeth. Swinging, his feet scraping the earth, Soren hacked a whole big enough to swing his muscular body through. Bright light shone through the edge of the forest overhead, the same place his sister had been stuck in. He could see the mountain he might be dragged up looming above him. 

He’d fail Aunt Vassa by not figuring out what that gas was. He didn’t care much, wasn’t interested in being used like an experiment. He reached down a hand, thrilling when she touched him. Mate, mate, mate, his blood seemed to chant. He stuffed it down even when the soft scent of cherry and vanilla invaded his senses. He yanked her up, unprepared for how her lithe body would flop on top of his. 

“This is more like it,” he teased, enjoying how her cheeks flushed darkly.

“In your dreams,” she mumbled, scrambling to her feet.

“Too true,” he agreed, surveying their surroundings lazily. He knew they were lost, had known when they came in they’d end up this way. “C’mon,” he told her, gesturing for her to follow. “This way.”

Mei did as he said, trotting after him in her tailored black pants held up with suspenders, muddied from their fall, and her form fitting white shirt, tucked into the waistband. Her left her thick curtain of straight black hair hanging down her back, the tips nearly touching her hips. Soren was mesmerized by the swing of it, how the light caught blue against the glossy strands. 

“I can feel your staring,” she complained, those dark, almond eyes reproachful. Soren shrugged. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told her not for the first time. She dipped her head, clearly embarrassed. Her heard her hand click softly, that golden piece of machinery clenching to a fist. He wanted to know what had happened though he didn’t dare ask. He knew it bothered her, that she expected it to bother him.

Meeting his father had been good, he thought. Some little part of her had softened considerably, though it was an icy thaw. He’d need more than his dad’s missing eye and his sisters near death to make her melt. Preferably into his waiting arms. 

Trees thinned overhead, taking him to rocky shoreline. If he’d walked the other way, he’d have ended up in Spring Court in three days time, likely slamming into his sister and her mate. What he wanted was time.

Mei didn’t know that. She paused at the expanse of ocean ahead of them and the little boat pushed against the rocky coast.

“Are you serious?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Ignoring the way it made her breasts swell beneath the open button of her shirt, Soren only grinned.

“I would never joke about seafaring,” he insisted, one hand pressed against his chest. “Where is your sense of adventure.” “We’re supposed to be doing a job,” she complained, following after him when he began walking towards the boat. It was big enough for two people to navigate, assuming both those people knew what they were doing. He did, of course…but judging from Mei’s wary expression, this was all new territory for her. 

“I know,” he told her, turning and holding her by the shoulders. She twisted for a moment, her eyes darkening. He never tired of seeing her own arousal and how she fought against it. What he needed was a little forced proximity. “Do you want to end up like Ivy? Or worse? Do you want to end up like Alexander, carrying my body down the mountain?”

She looked up behind him, heart shaped face glowing in the sun. She was so beautiful it threatened to sink him. He’d never wanted anyone more. 

“No,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen a human.”

“When we get back we’ll reconvene with Aunt Vassa,” he swore. “She owes my dad a favor, I think. Or maybe it’s the other way around…I can’t be sure.” His mother had told the story of Koschei more than once, for all Soren remembered. “You’ll get your antidote. I swear it.”

“Swear on our bond,” she said softly. She so rarely acknowledged the snapped mating bond between them that Soren, for all his jokes, would have done anything she demanded to hear her say it again.

“As you mate, I can deny you nothing.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear it. Now, come on. Do you trust me?”

He held out his hand to help her up, intending to push the ship out to sea himself. She hesitated for only a moment.

“I trust you,” she finally said. He grinned, pulling her close and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. 

“I won’t let you down.”

Soren didn’t need the gift of Sight to make that promise. He’d fail her only over his own dead body. 

Of that, he was sure.

[stufftippywrote]

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

[iamwhoami]

Amazing (One Chicago)

One Chicago

Connor Rhodes knows just what to say to Y/N after Sean Roman breaks up with her.

Warnings: Heartbreak?

Requested = Yes

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

"Are we still up for tonight?" You tilted your head to keep the phone wedged in between your ear and shoulder.

"I don't know..." Sean's voice cracked through the phone and you realized that he was actually outside, "Not sure when I'll get off tonight."

You pursed your lips but understood where Sean was coming from. You both worked long shifts at strange hours so finding time where neither were working was a challenging task.

"Okay, well just keep me posted," You said and you heard Sean chuckle.

"Will do."

Sean hung up and you sighed, unable to ignore the strange twisty feeling in your gut. Something felt wrong, but you couldn't understand why.

You didn't have time to dwell on it long though as Maggie called you and Dr. Rhodes over for an incoming trauma.

~~~

It had been a terrible day. You had lost not only one, but two of your patients today. Logically, you knew that it wasn't your fault, that their injuries were just too severe.

That didn't make it hurt any less though.

All you wanted to do was go home and snuggle Sean on the couch while a cheesy romantic movie played on the TV.

Despite this though, you found yourself standing outside the hospital, not making any move to get into your car and drive yourself home.

The cool air felt good against your skin and you let out a huff of air, watching the misty fog escape your mouth.

"Rough day huh..."

You turned your head to see Connor approach to stand next to you.

"Yeah..." You took a deep breath, "You could say that."

Connor shoved his hand into his pockets, watching the cars pull out of the parking lot and drive away with you.

"You're just going to stand here?" Connor asked, "After the day we've had?"

You chuckled softly, "I guess I am..."

"Is everything going okay with you and that cop?" Connor's voice was slightly strained.

You nodded, "Yeah...yeah it's nothing like that...I'm just reflecting today I guess."

"As we all should," Connor agreed, "Well, you have yourself a good night Y/L/N."

You smiled, "You too."

And with that, Connor turned around and left.

~~~

You left shortly after Connor did, the cold air getting to you. When you got back to your apartment, you sat in your car for another five minutes, your brain a mush of thoughts.

Completely exhausted, you trudged to the elevator, subconsciously pressing the button to your floor.

Fumbling with your keys, you searched for the right one before jabbing it into the apartment door.

"I'm home!" You tiredly called out as you entered, tossing your bag aside, "Man, has it been a rough day."

You weren't sure what you were expecting to see but it wasn't Sean standing there, a very serious expression on his face.

"Are you breaking up with me?" You joked, sliding off your shoes and hanging up your coat.

You meant it as a joke. A joke. It had been a long day and you were trying to lighten your mood.

The colour drained from your face though when you saw the look on Sean's face, "No...you're kidding."

"Y/N," Sean started and you immediately knew what was going to happen by his tone.

"What?" Your voice was barely audible but it could be heard, "Why?"

Sean shook his head, "It's not you Y/N...I just-"

"Save it," You put up your hand, "I've had quite the day Sean...I don't want to hear the reasons right now."

You weren't sure what you wanted Sean to say. Maybe you wanted him to fight you. To still show that he still had some love for you.

He didn't though.

With an awkward nod, Sean walked towards the door and just like that, he was gone.

You didn't realize it was possible, but you were even more drained and exhausted than before and as you collapsed on the couch, you realized just how shitty today was.

Maybe you should have been feeling heartbroken, maybe you should have been feeling hurt. You weren't though.

You were just tired.

~~~

The heartbreak set in the next morning, after you had a well-rested night.

You had woken up and rolled over, still expecting to feel the warmth coming from Sean's body.

What you felt instead was empty sheets.

Your heart ached and you seriously contemplated calling in sick. You couldn't understand why Sean would break up with you and though you did regret not letting him explain the night before, you sure weren't going to call him to ask.

If he wanted to end things then fine.

So be it.

Perhaps that was for the better that you still had to work today. At least you could keep yourself busy.

"Dr. Y/L/N!" Connor greeted you with a smile as you entered the ED, "I hope you good sleep because I could use another pair of eyes on one of my patients."

"Of course," You quickly agreed, this was just what you needed, "I would love to help."

Perfect.

~~~

"That was some great work in the OR today," Connor caught up with you on your way back to the ED, "Look, I totally get it if you don't want to, especially you know with Sean and stuff but I'd love to buy you a drink after shift. Just a celebratory one of course."

You chuckled softly, "Don't even worry about the celebratory emphasis. We broke up."

"Oh..." Connor stopped short, suddenly unsure of what to say. Did you need consolation? Maybe you were the one to break it off, "I"m sorry...I didn't know."

You waved it off, trying to seem indifferent, "Don't worry about it. The train of life moves on whether I'm on it or not, right?"

"Right..." Connor shifted awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"But I will gladly take up on your offer for a drink if it still stands," You tried to ease the tension.

Connor smiled, "Of course it still stands."

"I will meet you at Molly's after shift then," You cracked a grin and Connor's smile broadened.

"Sounds good."

~~~

You tugged your jacket closer around your body as you walked from your car to Molly's.

You weren't sure why, but for some reason, your heart thumped nervously against your chest. This wasn't some date or anything.

Just a celebratory drink to celebrate a successful surgery.

When you walked into Molly's, the first thing you saw was Herrmann and Kidd from 51 talking to Will and Natalie at the bar.

Then you saw Sean...and then Kim.

You were a little hurt and maybe a little envious seeing Kim cozying up to Sean like that. His arm was wrapped around her frame protectively and your heart skipped a beat when you remembered how he used to do that with you.

"Y/N!"

You turned your head to where your name came from and a smile graced your face when you saw Connor waving you over

"I'm glad you showed up," Connor said as you walked over and checked his watch, "I was beginning to worry that you had changed your mind and I would have to drink alone."

"Don't worry," You laughed, "I wouldn't leave you hanging like that."

Connor dipped his head and raised his glass slightly, "Good to know."

You slid onto the stool and within moments, Herrmann was asking you what you wanted to drink.

You ordered and when Connor told Herrmann to add it to his, you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from protesting after Connor shot you a no-nonsense glare.

Once you had your drink, Connor began talking but truthfully, you weren't listening much, just nodding along. Your eyes kept trailing away from Connor, sneaking glances at Sean and Kim together as they laughed at something Natalie had said.

"You know, I wouldn't take it personally if you wanted to call it a night," Connor's voice suddenly broke through your trance, "It has been a long day."

You blushed sheepishly, "I'm sorry-"

"No need," Connor cut you off, "I'm sure we have all felt heartbreak before."

"I know..." You nodded, "It's just...it was so abrupt...I don't know what happened? How did I not notice that things weren't right? That it had gotten to the point where Sean wanted to end it?"

Connor shrugged, "Does it matter now?"

His words caught you off guard. You weren't sure what to say. Honestly, you weren't even completely sure what he meant.

"I mean, why stress on it now," Connor clarified, picking his words carefully, "You're smart, kind, caring...not to mention a talented surgeon...he's an idiot to pass up on someone like you."

You smiled softly, "Thank you..."

"It's the truth," Connor took another gulp of his drink, "It's his loss if you ask me."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sean glance over at you and you could tell that he was watching you. You ignored him though, knowing he didn't deserve the worth of your time.

"I am really glad I took you up on this," You raised your drink a little, "Now...can we just talk about how amazing we were today in the OR?"

[wren-stirlinglove]

Writing Your Name on My Soul (Part 2)

Follow-up to this. I think there will probably be five (maybe six) more parts, then maybe Connor's POV? Haven't really figured it out yet.

haha remember when I said this a few hours ago? the whole fic is up on ao3

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

Dr. Rhodes rode in on a patient, and while Will was gearing up to continue their argument, he felt it die on his lips as the excess energy that constantly hummed through his body disappeared. Before he could fully process it, he had stepped out of the way and let the new trauma fellow have his way. At first, he hadn’t connected the dots— still too stunned by the stillness in his body. He walked away, going back about his day.

He was shocked that every time he bumped into Dr. Rhodes, his usual temper was reduced to something more like playful banter. It didn’t make any sense. Then towards the end of his shift, he’d heard some nurses talking about Doctor Connor Rhodes as he passed by. And all at once, it clicked, and he felt a terrible sense of relief and dread flood his body.

Will could feel the panic attack starting to build inside him so he got himself to the closest place of refuge he could find. Thankfully, no one else was in the lounge when he walked in, and he allowed himself to sink to the floor in front of the couch— out of sight from any co-workers. It had been a while since his last panic attack, and Will could feel his breath spinning out of control before he could even stop to think. He knew this was going to be bad, and he braced himself for it. Of course, that’s when the door to the lounge opened.

He knew who it was even before he stepped into the room. His breathing began to calm down, and he was able to get himself back under control. He wiped his hands across his face and leaned his head back against the couch, and that’s when Dr. Rhodes— Connor— noticed him.

“Dr. Halstead? Are you okay?” He flinched away as the other man stepped towards him, and Connor stopped in his tracks. “D- Do you want me to get Dr. Manning or Maggie for you?” He asked, his voice soft and unsure of what to do as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Will shakes his head. “I-It’s okay.” He hauled himself off the floor and looked at the clock. His shift was over. Connor doesn’t say anything else, but he apparently has decided that Will is okay because he turns back to his locker.

Immediately, Will understands. Connor just wants to ignore it. Pretend like they aren’t connected by souls or the universe or whatever. And it hurt that his soulmate didn’t want to be with him, but well, he doesn’t really want to be with his soulmate either. Still, it felt weird to not at least acknowledge it. Maybe Connor didn’t know his first name just like he hadn’t known his.

“Will.” He blurts out like an idiot, and Connor looks up, confused. Will’s heart breaks. Because there is no recognition. No flinch. He doesn’t even react as if he had heard the name before, let alone found it written all over his life.

And now, he has to find a way to explain himself. “It’s just- I was really harsh earlier, and if we’re gonna work together- you can call me… Will.” He winces at how stunted it sounded, but Connor just smiles and it’s bright and friendly and takes Will’s breath away.

“Connor.” He says, holding out his hand. Will reaches out and shakes it, then nods his head a couple of times before he moves to pack up for the day. He needs alcohol, and he needs it now. He hears the door to the lounge open and close and Connor is gone, and it’s almost a relief, except now the tight feeling is back in his chest— just not quite as intense as before.

Later, in the safety of his own bed, Will ponders what it means that Connor didn’t seem to know or care what Will’s first name was. And he came to the only logical explanation:

Connor is Will’s soulmate, but Will’s not Connor’s.

Of course, he’s never heard of it happening before, but it would be just Will’s luck if he was the first.

He rolls over to go to sleep and tries to forget the blankness that he saw on Connor’s face once he’d learned his name.

[bowiebond]

"Love at second sight"

As IronHusbands, for the prompts!

TW Mention of substance abuse

When Tony Stark first saw James Rhodes, fresh faced with not a lick of scruff at fifteen and a stolen drink in hand as faceless people spoke to him about nothing important, he didn’t dare look away.

When James Rhodes first saw Tony Stark, under terribly dim lighting of a party and in a tailored outfit that was a stark contrast to his own terribly faded science joke shirt, he couldn’t look away.

Tones saw Rhodey, Rhodey saw Tones, and there wasn’t a moment during MIT where they looked away from each other, not really.

Rhodey kept his gaze on Tony, kept his focus on the younger as they sketches a million unused blueprints, as Tony seemed to look everywhere else for praise and desire, as Tony avoided sleep for days on end on a caffeine high.

Tony let his eyes follow Rhodey, let the constant distraction orbit around his brain as he admired the shiny stars in Rhodey’s eyes when he aced test after test, as he stumbled in smelling too much like his dad after a party but simply caressed his head and let the younger get him into bed. He let his own eyes sparkle like passing comets when Rhodey praised his work, when he treated Dum-E like more than a robot.

“You know, that boy is always staring at you, Jimmy baby.” Mama Rhodes would muse when Rhodey would bring Tony to thanksgiving, and Rhodey would always laugh.

“Tones is always trying to guess my next move, I like to stay unpredictable.”

“You’re plenty predictable, sweetheart. It came with a healthy dosage of stubbornness.” His Mama would pinch his cheek and shoo him off and Rhodey would forget his own excuses.

Then one day, they’re both forced to look away. Rhodey can’t look at Tony when he’s raging, when he’s breaking his beautiful creations like they’re offending him, when he’s screaming himself hoarse.

Tony can’t look at anyone. He can’t see anything but grief and pain and anger. He drowns his vision in booze and drugs and shades the outside world with a pair of sunglasses so he can’t see them and they can’t see him.

Rhodey tries to step back into view, to catch his eye, but Tony simply blocks him.

So Rhodey leaves. He has a life, he has promise, and he refuses to be undermined or forgotten as he climbs the ranks.

It’s almost a year later when his phone rings.

“This is James Rhodes. Who is this?” The number is unknown but he feels it in his gut.

“Rhodey. It’s uh… it’s Tony.”

“What a surprise. Didn’t you block my number? And you know, just, kicked me aside in general?” He doesn’t want to sound petty, or even angry, but he is. Or maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s just tired. He feels tired talking to Tony, hearing his voice. He feels heavy with exhaustion and longing.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Shit.” Tony sounds on the verge of crying, but it’s different from the crack in his voice when he lost his parents. “Rhodey, I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick. Am a dick. I just — can you do me a favour?”

“You’re asking a lot, all things considered.” Rhodey intones.

“It’s… Hanukkah.” Tony sighed. “Spend it with me? Please. I can’t — it’ll be the first without them, and I can’t, Rhodey, I can’t—“

“Okay.” Rhodey cuts him off before he can blabber.

“Okay?”

“I’ll be there.” Rhodey doesn’t lie. He takes leave and he comes to Tony’s front door with a simple suitcase. When Tony sees him again, doe brown eyes unveiled from his usual frames, Rhodey feels like he’s being seen for the first time by Tony since Howard and Maria’s death.

Tony’s eyes fill with tears and he wraps he arms around Rhodey like he might disappear, but it’s warm and Rhodey has been cold for too long. Both of them have been.

When Tony steps back and feels Rhodey’s eyes, his entire chest blooms with hope and warmth and it’s melting away the walls so quickly it should be terrifying.

“I’ve missed you, Rhodey.”

“I can tell, crybaby. You light a candle for me yet, Tones?” Rhodey says instead but it’s filled with fondness that sets Tony’s anxieties at ease.

“Not a single one. You know I can’t be trusted with fire, platypus.” Tony grins and it’s infectious.

“I’ll supervise.”

They light the first candle of the menorah together and it’s like the spark of something new between them.

It’s the same routine. They celebrate and they laugh like old times, and Tony only drinks a Rhodey measured amount as they watch sci-fi films — critiquing them violently and practically yelling on top of each other to get their points across before bursting into laughter over movie science — and build a volatile machine that explodes paint and dust when Dum-E gets involved. They spend a good hour chasing the bot in order to clean him off.

It’s sweet and warm like s’mores and they can’t keep their eyes off one another. On the final night of Hanukkah, Rhodey asks him to come home for Christmas the coming week with his family.

It’s sitting on the porch of his childhood home with Tony that he realises.

“You know, Mama always said you liked fo stare at me.”

“What? That’s absurd. I don’t stare.” Tony grumbled.

“But you do watch me. I always figured you were trying to stay one step ahead like the genius you are.” It’s a curious statement, branching out into an almost question, and Tony bites.

“You’re predictable, honey bear. I don’t have to be a genius to stay one step ahead.” Tony snorted.

“So why do you watch me then, huh?” Rhodey grins, turning to look at his best friend.

“I… I didn’t get to for a long time. I kind of— I messed up after my parents died. I wasn’t the best to you, never really have been. Probably never will be.” Tony shrugged weakly.

“You didn’t handle it well. You self destructed. And, yeah, it hurt. To see you like that, and also to know I couldn’t really help.” Rhodey sighed. “You stopped looking at me. I think that was the worst part.”

“I stopped…looking at you?” Tony took a moment to digest his words before huffing a laugh. “I stopped looking at you. I stopped looking at everyone. And I forced you to stop looking me in turn, didn’t I?”

“Sure did.”

“I’m so stupid.” Tony smiled even as he spoke, bittersweet.

“I think it was for the best though.”

“Yeah?” Tony turned his gaze onto Rhodey and admired the soft porch light highlighting his defined cheeks and broad nose.

“Yeah. Never would have gotten to see you in a different light if I hadn’t… looked away. I needed a double take.” Rhodey’s deep brown eyes met Tony’s and his grin grew. “Love at first sight — it’s kind of overrated, huh?”

“Lo…” The tiny creases in Tony’s face smoothed with realisation. “Love at second sight? That’s not how it’s supposed to go, honey bear.” Amusement made his eyes shower with comets and Rhodey laughed, his own glistening with stars as he leant in and pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s lips.

Tony found he was fine with being distracted by Rhodey, and would be fine with it forever, honestly.

Rhodey had a simpler desire. He just never wanted to look away from Tony again.

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey, I hope you're had a very pleasant birthday and birthday month! If the prompte are still open: Can you do Stony with Tony finally and sorta randomly confessing his love to Steve and Steve only then realizing that what he feels for Tony is romantic love as well?

Hello! Sure thing! Quick note: there’s a change between present and past tense for a flashback, for anyone who doesn’t like that kind of thing

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

~

“I love you,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t quite know what to do about that.

He won’t say that he’s thought about it before because he hasn’t. But he won’t say that he’s never thought about it either—because he has, occasionally, glanced at Tony’s ass outlined by his perfectly tailored pants and appreciated the sight, and he has, once or twice, wondered what Tony’s warm, sparkling eyes would look like when hazy with pleasure. But a quick, glancing thought that he immediately moves on from is not the same as being attracted enough to Tony to think about asking him out or anything past that.

And now that he’s faced with that question, he doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to thank Tony? Is he supposed to acknowledge his feelings and say that he doesn’t feel the same way? Is he just supposed to ignore what Tony said? This is why he has so much trouble with his dates—he never knows how to act in a way that isn’t awkward. No wonder Natasha recently declared him hopeless after he came back from his last date covered in her sticky drink because he accidentally called her a dame.

“I love you,” Tony says and Steve doesn’t know what to do about that, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to do anything, because Tony nods immediately afterward, says, “Good talk,” and turns and walks away like he wasn’t expecting an answer—or at least, not one that he would like.

Steve doesn’t know what to do about that either.

~

“Do you think I’m in love with Tony?” he asks Natasha later that day when they’re relaxing on the couch while some mindless sitcom plays in the background.

Natasha blinks at him and then caps the nail polish she was using and puts it on the coffee table. “Do you think you’re in love with Tony?” she asks carefully.

He frowns at her. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I should just tell you what to think.”

He sighs and takes another sip from his Coke, only to realize that it’s empty. Yeah, that describes his life pretty well. “I’m gonna get another one,” he says, standing up. “Do you want something?”

She shakes her head. It’s not until he’s in the kitchen, grabbing another Coke from the fridge, before she asks, “What brought this on?”

Steve thinks about the vulnerable look on Tony’s face as he said those three words. He probably wouldn’t like it if Steve told Natasha what they’d discussed. Or, well, he’d probably act like it was fine but he’d secretly feel hurt and might put the workshop into blackout mode again. Steve hates it when the workshop is in blackout mode. He doesn’t like that he can’t get to Tony when he’s feeling so terrible that he has to shut himself away. He wants to be there to support him, and he hates it when he’s the one who makes Tony feel like he has to close off the workshop.

“Nothing,” he tells Natasha.

She gets up to come into the kitchen, where she eyes him for a moment and then declares, “Tony finally told you, didn’t he?”

How does she always know?

“How do you always know?”

She smiles enigmatically. “I always know,” she says in that mysterious tone.

Steve glares at her. “Tony told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to admit that you two are friends.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “But not today.” She hesitates, watching as Steve starts preparing a ham sandwich. “So Tony told you he loves you and you said?”

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shrug. “JARVIS, do you think it would be a good idea if I took this to Tony?”

“Sir has not expressed an explicit desire to keep you out of the workshop but I believe he would not appreciate you down there at the moment.”

Steve sighs. “Great. Could you send U up here to bring this sandwich down?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

With that taken care of, Steve turns back to Natasha, following her back out to the living room. “I didn’t say anything because Tony didn’t give me the chance. He just took off.”

Natasha is quiet, studying him for a long moment. He knows what she’s thinking, since it’s probably the same thing he thought: that Tony was too afraid to hear the answer to give Steve the chance to respond. Eventually, she asks, “So how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about Tony like that before but—we act kinda coupley, don’t we?”

Before Natasha can respond, the previously bright sky outside goes dark. There’s a bright lightning bolt right outside the window, followed by the crash of thunder and then a loud rushing sound. It dissipates after a moment, the sky lightening again.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS says, “Thor has returned to the tower.”

~

The Steve and Tony story goes something like this: instead of going on his planned road trip, Steve returned to the tower the day after the Chitauri invasion to offer his apologies to Tony about what he said on the helicarrier. Somehow—and he’s not sure how, even to this day—he found himself getting wrapped up in the tower repairs with a room of his own on one of the lower floors. And by the time those were done, Tony had apparently also redone some of the apartments near the penthouse as a headquarters for the Avengers. Steve hadn’t been lacking for options after the battle (the Army, in particular, wanted him back) but he’d moved into the tower permanently instead.

He and Tony had clashed a few times in those early days but once Bruce came back from wrapping up his affairs in India and Natasha and Clint left SHIELD to join them, they settled into a bit of a truce.

And over the semi-regular movie nights and the training spars and the late-night conversations after they both couldn’t sleep, that truce became a friendship and before Steve quite realized it, Tony had become one of his best friends. Slowly, Steve found himself being pulled out of the shell he’d withdrawn into after waking in this new century. Tony dragged him to lunch at new and exciting places, places that Steve could never have even dreamed of when he was growing up. They planned missions and training days together. Steve had even gotten adept enough at handling the press with Tony to feel confident accepting interview requests with him.

He hadn’t realized though that Tony had taken it as something more serious though. And now that he does know, he’s not sure what to do about it.

~

He eventually goes to Bruce, since Pepper is busy dealing with a business merger and Colonel Rhodes is out of town in some undisclosed location (though Steve is certain that Tony knows where). Bruce’s lab isn’t quite the wonderland of light and holograms that Tony’s is, but it’s still impressive to someone who grew up with nothing. Tony makes sure that Bruce has all the latest equipment so the lab is a gleaming marvel of sleek instruments with silver and white colors everywhere. It doesn’t look like the most soothing environment but the speakers pipe out some sort of piano music that Steve vaguely recognizes and there’s a teapot on one counter, keeping whatever Bruce is drinking warm.

Bruce is currently examining something under a microscope. Steve can make out what looks like a purple smear on the slide from where he’s standing in the doorway, but that’s it. Bruce doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, even though JARVIS announced him, so he waits patiently until Bruce has rolled away from the microscope.

“Bruce, you got a second?” he asks quietly.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Bruce asks, offering him a tired smile. He waves Steve over to the teapot and offers him a cup.

“Just a couple minutes ago. I didn’t mind waiting,” Steve assures him. “What’s the blend?”

“Lavender and chocolate.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Bruce hands him the steaming mug. Steve has to add the sugar himself (only Tony knows how he prefers his tea).

“What brings you to my lab? Tony’s downstairs today,” Bruce says, fixing a cup of his own.

“I’m not looking for Tony. Not yet anyway,” Steve corrects. “I did want to talk about him though.” He hesitates and then decides to take the plunge. “Has Tony ever said anything to you about—ah—”

“About his feelings?” Bruce asks knowledgeably. “It’s come up a few times.”

Steve takes that to mean that it’s come up fairly frequently. Tony does like to overshare sometimes and trying to figure out what he’ll overshare about and what he’ll clam up about is about as accurate as trying to make one of Clint’s trick shots. “He told me today,” he begins carefully. “But he didn’t let me say anything.”

“Well, he wouldn’t,” Bruce says, like that’s perfectly reasonable and not absolutely surprising to Steve. He must see the confusion in Steve’s face because he adds, “He only just figured it out a few days ago himself, even though he’s been talking about you for months. I don’t think he was expecting you to feel the same way as him right after he realized it.”

“But why would he say it then?”

Bruce takes off his glasses, holding them in front of him as he thinks. “Tony—he’s got a weird relationship with love. He told me once that he thought he’d lost the chance to tell Pepper he loved her, first in Afghanistan and then with the palladium poisoning.”

“His parents,” Steve realizes. “He didn’t get to tell them either.”

“Exactly,” Bruce says, pointing at him with the glasses. “He doesn’t like to wait. So even though he knows you don’t feel the same way, he felt it was important to tell you.”

“What, in case I die tomorrow?”

“Or if he does.” Bruce must catch the stricken expression on Steve’s face as he smiles gently. “It’s not just about getting the feeling off his chest for Tony. It’s about making sure that you know you’re loved too.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly.

~

Normally, he would go down to the workshop to think about something that’s puzzling him but he doesn’t want to bother Tony right now. Instead, he goes to his second-favorite room in the entire tower: the library. The library was designed specifically by Tony for Steve after he mentioned how much he liked the tablet Tony had given him but how he missed paper books too. He hadn’t been angling for a library out of the conversation but Tony, generous to a fault, had immediately gotten to work on one.

It’s a beautiful room, completely incongruous with the sleek modern style of the rest of the tower, but perfect despite that. It takes up an entire two floors of the tower with balconies, a spiral staircase, and several sliding ladders for Clint to reenact a scene from some movie that Steve hasn’t gotten around to watching yet. Tony had done the room in dark wood with enough windows to make it feel light and airy instead of cramped. There are little nooks hidden among the shelves and a few window seats for anyone who wants to gaze out over the New York skyline while they read.

It’s perfect, made all the more so because Tony designed it for him.

“Steve, you should have realized how Tony felt sooner,” he mutters to himself as he settles on one of the cushy armchairs with his sketchbook. But how could he have? According to Bruce, Tony hadn’t even known how he felt until a few days ago.

He sketches as he thinks, no subject in mind until he looks down to find that he’s roughly sketched out Tony at his workbench, arguing with DUM-E over something silly. Steve smiles fondly down at the drawing, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Tony’s cheek. He remembers this argument. It had been a couple weeks ago. Tony had asked DUM-E to bring him a wrench and instead, DUM-E had brought him two screwdrivers, three hammers, and a level before finally bringing the wrench. It had made Steve laugh, which had just encouraged DUM-E. Tony had acted frustrated but he knows Tony well enough to know that Tony had been secretly proud about DUM-E’s personality, both for DUM-E and for himself. After all, as Tony said, any monkey could design an AI. It took skill to design one with character.

In his sketch, he’s drawn something of that conflict in Tony’s face—the frustration in the downward turn of his mouth but the pride in the twinkle in his eyes—and it only makes him more beautiful.

“Beautiful,” Steve repeats, awed at the thought. Tony is beautiful, when he’s tinkering, when he’s flying, even when he’s going toe-to-toe with Steve over something stupid (usually Tony’s self-sacrificial tendencies).

He flips through the book, taking in each drawing: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Tony, Tony, Tony. “Yeah,” he murmurs, looking back down at the drawing he just finished again. He thinks he’s got it figured out.

He stands, tucking his sketchbook under his arm. “JARVIS, do you think Tony would mind talking to me now? I’ve got something important to tell him.”

JARVIS is quiet for a moment, then says, “Sir would be happy to see you.”

He makes his way downstairs, thinking about what he’s going to say, but as soon as he sees Tony—wonderful, beautiful, perfect Tony—playing with one of those incredible holograms he designed, the words fly from his mind and he blurts out, “I’m not in love with you.”

And then he winces. Yeah, okay, so he’s a bit of a disaster.

Tony looks hurt for a moment, but it’s quickly covered up with dramatic offense. Before Tony can make one of his infamous quips that’ll just make light of the situation, Steve crosses the workshop and pulls Tony’s hands into his, rubbing them gently with his thumbs.

“I’m not in love with you,” he repeats. “But I think I could be soon. I’m not where you’re at yet—my brain isn’t nearly as quick as yours, Tony, of course you’re a step ahead of me here too. But Tony, you’re on almost every single page of my sketchbook. We go on what we might as well call dates together. We talk for hours. I know you almost as well as I know myself. I’m not in love with you yet but I think I’m only a couple dates away from it, so you should take me out, and we’ll see how fast I can catch up.”

Tony is smiling by the end of his little speech. “How are you always so good at that?” he asks.

“I was born like this,” Steve says seriously, only to crack a grin when Tony laughs.

“No you weren’t,” Tony argues. “You were born small and spiteful.”

“And full of good speeches. But no one wanted to listen to a little guy like me so I had to bottle them up to use on you.” He pauses and looks down at Tony. “Um, not to pressure you, but does a date sound good?”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Depends. Where are you going to take me?”

“Oh, am I taking you? You’re the billionaire, shouldn’t you be treating me?”

Tony’s eyes darken as he purrs, “Only if you’re very nice.”

Steve shivers. He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to have the full Tony Stark Seduction TechniqueTM turned on him, but he’s thinking about it now and it is absolutely delightful. “What if I’m not nice at all?” he whispers, hands tightening on Tony’s.

Tony’s smile turns downright filthy and he leans up to brush a kiss over Steve’s cheek. “Hmm, I’ll think of something,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear.

He’s not going to act like a caveman and take Tony to bed. He’s not. He’s going to—“Sal’s!” he blurts out, immediately regretting it when Tony takes a step away, brow wrinkling confusedly. It’s really cute. Steve wants to kiss it away.

“What?”

“Sal’s,” Steve says again. “Best burgers in Brooklyn. I want to take you there.”

Tony smiles again. “Sounds like a date.”

[themculibrary]

Rare Pairings Masterlist 4

part one, part two, part three

All My Best Friends Are Traitors (ao3) - bengalgurl clint/thor T, 4k

Summary: Clint falls in love. Clint gets kidnapped. Clint hates that many of his friends are HYDRA agents. Clint gets over it. (Or how Clint fell in love with a god, who is his roommate, only to get kidnapped by HYDRA )

A Slight Detail (ao3) - PumpkinDoodles darcy/stephen M, 8k

Summary: Stuck in quarantine and recently dumped, Darcy Lewis really doesn't want this assignment. But Jane has promised her extra Reese's minis if she'll just be the one who zoom calls Dr. Stephen Strange to discuss their SHIELD portal project.

Which is fine. Darcy can handle a second terrible British dude, no problem.

Things just get complicated after Darcy omits one, tiny, tiny life detail: she's six months pregnant.

Dad's Got Skeletons (ao3) - kehinki steve/howard T, 3k

Summary: “To think he became a dad—your dad. A daddy.” He looked up sharply and saw that Steve’s smile had twisted a little bit, pulled up at one corner like a smirk, except no, Captain America did not smirk. “You know, it’s funny. I called him daddy once too.”

Dragons! (ao3) - kookykoi steve/thor T, 1k

Summary: This wasn’t how Steve wanted the rest of the team finding out about him and Thor.

Enigmatic (ao3) - winterfrostwidow (orphan_account) natasha/stephen G, 1k

Summary: Stephen & Natasha have an exchange.

Fallout (ao3) - helsinkibaby pepper/rhodey T, 1k

Summary: Tony Stark was presumed dead for three years. When he returns, he finds things have changed.

Floral Engagement (ao3) - ABrighterDarkness, NachoDiablo pepper/steve T, 5k

Summary: The cute blond florist keeps gifting Pepper flowers. She's determined not to read into it. But she really should.

He's Imagining How Well You'd Fit Within His Skin (ao3) - vibishan bruce/bucky T, 6k

Summary: (Or, the one where Bruce finds Bucky first, and then they play house in a lair beneath New York.)

Hunger Pangs (ao3) - Artemis_Day bucky/jane E, 32k

Summary: Having a soulmate isn't as easy as it sounds, just ask Bucky Barnes. He may love Jane with all his heart, but that doesn't mean she's can't be an absolute pain in the ass. Luckily, he's been dealing with tiny reckless people for a lot longer than this.

I Like My Boys Bad (And My Men Dangerous) (ao3) - sarcastic_fina nick/darcy T, 5k

Summary: Darcy's always gone for the bad boy who never handled her heart with care. Fury fits the dangerous man appeal, but he's not like the others.

not just a coffee shop (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor peter quill/sam G, 1k

Summary: Peter Quill is the new barista at Sam's coffee shop. Things start off rocky, but it doesn't take long for Sam to change his opinion.

Space Girl (ao3) - LemonadeReaction gamora/natasha E, 2k

Summary: Natasha arrives at Gamora's apartment for a party, but she is the only one there. Did Gamora intentionally only invite Natasha, and what the hell is going on in her kitchen?

Tango (ao3) - mzamethystcrow loki/natasha E, 9k

Summary: One insanely hot tango ratchets the sexual tension between the God of Mischief and the Black Widow… Which one will give in to their desires first?

The Opposite of Trouble (ao3) - ifitwasribald bruce/rhodey E, 28k

Summary: Bruce has very good reasons to distrust the military, and Rhodey has very good reasons to distrust the Hulk, so neither of them is thrilled when circumstances throw them together. But it doesn't take long for their mutual suspicion to turn to mutual respect, and from there they begin to discover something together that neither of them has had in a very long time.

The Worst Part About Being Strong (ao3) - Taciyet thor/sam G, 4k

Summary: ~- Is That No One Ever Asks If You're Okay

(Or: Sam is a borderline therapist for veterans, Thor has also seen and been through some shit, and we don't talk about either of these things enough.)

three acts, or: how james rhodes learned to stop trusting tony stark and jump on the good boy/bad girl train (ao3) - plingo_kat rhodey/natasha T, 4k

Summary: “This,” Tony says as he takes in the scene in front of him, “is not what we expected to happen when I told you about the Widow.”

Unexpected (ao3) - tictocficsoc nick/tony E, 3k

Summary: Written for a prompt on avengerkink: Tony thought sex with Nick Fury would be like the rest of their interactions and be a tense, angry, sexy hatefuck. So he's really surprised when Fury's a really loving, generous partner in bed. Surprised but happy.

Warm and Safe (ao3) - Anakin_needs_love peter quill/steve T, 1k

Summary: Peter and Steve spend a quiet and relaxing time under a tree outside the compound.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[apiratewhopines]

I’m going to alternate artwork so we get leather-clad Killian and fancy dress up Killian.

Midnight

Chapter 3 — The Godfather

Summary: In which our heroine accepts the finer things in life

Chapter 3 of 7 on AO3

“He gave her things that she was needin’

He gave her a home built of gold and steel

A diamond car with platinum wheels”

-Minnie The Moocher, Cab Calloway

The creeping pace her warden set was nerve-racking. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if every eye in the place was watching their slow procession through the ballroom. Finally exiting the room, they paused in the hallway and Emma said resignedly, “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ve had my eye on you from the moment you walked in,” the other man commented, nodding to passersby with no hint of distress. “You should have known better than to think you could escape unnoticed.”

“Well, I thought if I left quietly, no one would be the wiser,” she replied, smiling at him with a hopeful kind of chagrin. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Don’t apologize, my dear. There are three of us in rebellion against this entertainment if you want to call it that. I think I may turn down all future invitations from Regina if this is the torture we will be subject to…” Grabbing her arm softly, he started steering them through the throng still attempting to find a place in the ballroom.

She was shocked they weren’t heading to the front entrance. The man, who had yet to introduce himself, was leading her down a back hallway. Moments later, he paused in front of a closed door. “You do play bridge, yes?”

Emma hadn’t played the game since she was a teenager staying with Granny, but as usual, the lessons the older woman taught her were going to save her from a terrible fate. “Yes, though I’m a bit rusty. But why me?”

“You’re charming, you’re bored, and you have the face of someone who wouldn’t trump your partner’s ace,” he explained with a breezy smile. Placing his finger to his lips to hush any further conversation, he pressed an ear to the door and then gave two quick raps against the frame. Taking one more second, he then opened it and ushered her in.

Upon entering, she saw two occupants huddled by the fireplace, which blazed happily with a roaring fire in opposition to the warm night. Immediately, his pause made sense as she noticed a faint smudge of lipstick on the smooth skin of the man’s face.

“Lancelot, Guinevere, allow me to introduce Madam—I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

Scrambling, she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Jones.”

“Ah, Madam Jones, I’m Sidney Glass, your knight in shining armor for the evening. This is Guinevere Soberano and Lancelot du Lac, your fellow insurrectionists.” Her knight joked before adding, “Lance is the most dangerous man in the room, so watch yourself.”

Seeing how the tall, handsome man took his time sizing her up, she had a feeling she knew what made him dangerous. The fashionable lines of his tuxedo did little to hide his muscular build, and while he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d met that evening, she knew if they had met on any other night of her life, he would have been. She could tell by how his eyes continued to seek her out that he wasn’t immune to her charms either. It should have made her feel better considering she’d been in the same outfit for nearly two days and her hair was still wet from her dash through the thunderstorm. Instead, it made her feel tired.

Taking a seat with trepidation, she tried to hide her feelings of discomfort. She was the one who ran when offered a cozy landing place, so now she needed to play the hand she was dealt. Literally. Watching as Sidney took over as dealer, she asked, “What are we playing for? Bragging rights?”

“How about our normal stakes? Five dollars a point?”

Eyes wide, she calculated if she remembered the game correctly, there would be thousands of dollars exchanging hands tonight. If only a fraction of that money came her way, she may be able to get out of this dress and fill up her tank so she could hit the road and resume her search. She refused to think about what she would do if she didn’t win. Granny had been a cutthroat player, so she had more than enough practice.

Lance settled in as her partner, his eyes never leaving her face as the group silently arranged their cards and planned their strategies. Her heart racing, Emma mumbled, “Two spades.”

And the game began.

Hours later, they were in the hole and she couldn’t help wishing Sidney or the other woman was her partner. Lance seemed much more interested in flirting with her than winning, and if she weren’t sure it would get her thrown out, she would have kicked him under the table for screwing up her chance to turn her luck around. Not to mention the fact that with every suggestive exchange, Guinevere’s eyes grew a little bit colder. She had a feeling the woman would make a formidable enemy.

The door to their hideaway opened to admit her former neighbor, his eyes as unnerving by firelight as they had been in the brighter gleam of the ballroom. The ever-present smirk was there in full force as he made his way to their table and planted himself between Lance and Guinevere. “Darling, why don’t you introduce me to your newest recruit?”

“Madam Jones, this is my husband Arthur Soberano, the only man on the planet who enjoys these little parties. Arthur, this is Madam Jones, a woman in need of a better bridge partner.”

“It’s so hard to concentrate on cards sometimes,” Lance murmured, his heated glance never leaving her face so no one had any doubts about what was distracting him.

Arthur observed the exchange, and the subsequent reactions, with the expression of a man who finally found his silver lining. She hoped it was catching. “Jones, eh? Would you be one of the Rhode Island Joneses?”

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she demurred. “No, but I’ve heard they’re lovely people.”

“You’re American, correct?”

“What gave it away? My abysmal accent?”

“Something like that,” Arthur responded with a smile. “So if not Rhode Island, what Jones clan do you hail from?”

“Oh, Jones is my married name. My husband is from Cambridge.”

“Of course! I should have known. I ran into Baron Jones a few years ago in Budapest, and he spoke of an American girl. How is he? Is he here tonight?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, because of course there would be a Baron Jones and of course this enigmatic man would know him, she stared at her cards and hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt when she said, “No, no. He’s still in Budapest. He wasn’t feeling well enough for transatlantic travel. You know, the old trouble flaring up.”

Tsking with a hint of amusement, Arthur narrowed his eyes. “That’s too bad. Guinevere, we really must make a trip there soon. Beautiful city. Tell me, Madam Jones, did they ever finish the metro Line 1?”

For the love of all that was holy, would the man never stop with the questions? “You know how construction is…the roads are still a mess here and there.”

She knew by the way his body shifted that she had misstepped. She wasn’t sure what trap he laid, but she walked right into it. To add insult to injury, the final hand of the night went into their loss column.

Lance shook his head in defeat and pulled out his wallet. “I really must apologize, Madam Jones. I’m usually a much better player. You’ll have to let me make amends to you. Perhaps lunch tomorrow? What’s your favorite place?”

“That depends, Lance. How much money am I out tonight? I will exact revenge in corresponding measure.”

Sidney piped in with a gleeful laugh. “Four thousand dollars from each of you. Not a bad haul, if I do say so myself. But bypassing the awful concert makes the win priceless.”

Her head swam with the figure, trying to ignore the way Arthur was circling the room like a caged lion and wondering how plausible it was for a baroness not to carry cash. Surely, the nobility class had people to handle this kind of thing for them. “I’m not sure I have that much on me. I hope you’ll accept my IOU. Has anyone seen my bag?”

She saw the look Guinevere and Sidney exchanged and her stomach dropped. They wouldn’t let it go. Perhaps looking for her non-existent purse would allow her to sneak out.

“Is this it, Madam Jones?”

“Yes, thank you.” Turning around, she saw a beaded clutch she’d never laid eyes on before in Arthur’s extended hand. She hadn’t stolen a single thing in her life, and she wasn’t thrilled to start now, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Opening it, she found a wad of cash that looked like it could bankroll a small country for a year. Shocked, her gaze flew to meet Arthur’s and he winked before departing the room.

—

No matter how hard she tried to shake him, Lance would not leave her alone. Subsequently, everyone in the entourage hung on like they had nothing better to do than tag along while she flitted around the club trying to lose them. Finally, the evening started breaking up. Large groups of people gave each other air kisses and made plans to meet at various houses for brunch the next day. Freedom was within reach if she could only make it out the front door.

They bid goodbye to their hostess, who was high on finding the supposed party crasher, an older woman they dragged from the downstairs powder room and tossed out into the night, still swearing she didn’t know anyone named Neal and claiming she was the Duchess of Longbourn.

Emma thought a silent apology to the woman and hoped karma graded on a curve.

“Allow me to wait with you until your car pulls around,” Lance said, offering his arm to help her down the steps.

“I’d hate to trouble you,” Emma ground out, her voice deepened with the effort of holding in a groan of frustration. “My chauffeur is habitually late.”

“Then I should give you a ride,” Lance countered. He had yet to let go of her arm, and she was afraid she would have to cut it off to make a clean break. “Where are you staying?”

Having no clue of the lodging situation in Misthaven, she worried about another trap under Arthur’s expectant stare. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“The Ritz,” he immediately countered.

“Right in one! But really, I’d rather wait for my car.” When the words left her mouth, the familiar lines of a black BMW cruised down the street slowly like the driver was looking for something. Or someone. Panicked, she flashed her new admirer a dazzling smile. “On second thought, let’s get out of here.”

As Lance handed her into his sports car, she heard Guinevere’s voice muttering to Sidney, “We don’t know anything about her. She came here all alone.”

“I notice she’s not leaving alone,” Arthur replied, smile widening as he caught her eye through the window and gave her a jaunty wave.

By jumping into a car with a virtual stranger for the second time that evening, she avoided one issue but created another. Her time was running out because this charade was doomed to fail when they arrived at the hotel and there wasn’t a room for Baroness Jones. She’d have to get rid of him in the parking lot.

Unsurprisingly, considering how her night was going, it was easier said than done. Lance appeared to be a gentleman if you overlooked his tendency to have affairs with other men’s wives and wouldn’t hear of dropping her off at the entrance. Throwing his keys toward the valet stand, he made his way to the concierge desk over her protests that she had some things to handle in the lobby before heading to her room.

She closed her eyes as she heard him say, “Checking into Baroness Jones’s room.”

Here it came. The boom.

“Of course, sir. Will that be all?”

Opening one eye, she watched as the employee handed over the room card. This couldn’t be right. She must be trapped in some nightmare where her pain and humiliation hung like a knife above her head, and the anticipation of the stabbing turned out to be worse than the violent act itself.

Laughing with fake merriment, she snatched the card from Lance before he could pocket it and said forcefully, “Thank you for a lovely evening. Good night.”

“My mother always said to see a woman to her door, or my job wasn’t done.”

Unable to hide her exasperation one second longer, she asked, “Don’t you know when to go home?”

“No.” With a broad smile, he held the elevator door open while she entered and wished for death. In hindsight, her original plan of sleeping on a park bench seemed like a real winner compared to this slow torture. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the warm bed and warmer smile she had also turned down.

Tired, annoyed, and pining for her original driver of the evening, she didn’t even try to maintain a conversation with the man beside her, her head filled with dread at the idea she was about to open the door to a hotel room occupied by the real Baroness Jones. With the resigned stride of a prisoner walking the green mile, she reached the room slower than the situation called for and leaned against the door facing Lance. With a stony expression, she said pointedly, “Look, right to the door. You did your mother proud and can go home and sleep peacefully.”

“What? No nightcap?”

“No, absolutely not. I don’t need a mother to tell me inviting a man into my hotel room in the middle of the night is a bad idea. Go home.”

Laughing, he reached out and pushed her hair away from her face. “You’re magnificent.”

“I’m also married,” she bit out, barely resisting the urge to slap his hand away. There was something riveting about a man with an overabundance of confidence, but she refused to be charmed. If she were going to give in to any urges, she would have done it with the person behind Door Number One.

“So I’ve heard. At least make sure the card works. Those things are notoriously fickle, like most wives I’ve met.”

Chuckling despite herself, she swiped the card against the reader, grateful to hear the lock disengage in the quiet hallway. “There. Good night.”

Before he could say or do anything else, she slipped into the room and clicked the door firmly back in place. She tiptoed through the suite, not daring to turn on the lights while she looked for any trace someone else was in the room. Her search coming up empty, she reached over and flooded the bedroom with light.

The king-size bed looked heavenly. Giggling, she decided to make the most of this temporary reprieve. She dropped her clothes in a pile and ran to the bathroom, happy to find it as luxurious as the rest of the rooms in the suite. Turning the water all the way to hot, she allowed the steamy spray to wash away the hurt, the hopelessness, and the hysteria.

She stepped out of the shower an hour later, eyes red-rimmed and body weak with fatigue. Not even bothering to dry off, she collapsed in the bed and fell into a sleep plagued with blue eyes and black cars.

—

The sound of the antique telephone ringing penetrated the fog in her brain as the last strands of sleep broke. Startled, Emma glanced down at her nude form and immediately looked beside her to see if she was alone. Her dreams of the previous night didn’t fade quickly, and the vivid image of the Captain and his wonderful stubble made her ache.

Groaning as memory replaced fantasy, she plopped back against the mattress and grabbed one of the nearly two dozen pillows haphazardly strewn across the bed to cover her head in an attempt to drown out the noise.

It wasn’t really her hotel room, so she probably shouldn’t answer it anyway.

Unfortunately, the caller didn’t know she was an imposter and seemed determined to reach the room’s occupant. She picked up the receiver and pulled it under the pillow to join her. In a groggy voice she asked, “What?”

The chirpy voice of a hotel employee responded, “Good morning, Baroness Jones. Your luggage has arrived.”

“From Boston?” That didn’t make any sense. She’d pawned her last remaining possessions less than forty-eight hours ago, but unless she packed a boomerang in the pocket of her favorite jeans, she wasn’t sure what they were doing in Misthaven.

“I’m not sure, madam. The delivery driver only mentioned it was for the baroness. It should be arriving at your room momentarily.”

As if summoned by magic, there was a knock and she hung up the phone while trying to wrap herself in the thick comforter. Dragging the ends of the blanket like a train behind her, she threw open the door and felt her eyes widen at the sight greeting her. Lining the hallway was a parade of hotel employees carrying a few pieces of luggage each.

In mute shock, she moved out of the way and the group started piling the bags in the living room of the suite. When the final trunk was laid in the corner by the wall of windows overlooking the town, she stood staring unblinkingly at the head bellhop.

“Will there be anything else, Baroness?”

“No, I think this is quite enough.”

“Very well.”

The group seemed hesitant to depart, and she did a quick check to make sure her makeshift toga hadn’t slipped. Finding everything was as it should be, reason soaked through her dazed brain and she said, “Oh, the tip!”

“No, madam. Your chauffeur took care of it already. He wanted to know if you’d be needing the car today. It’s beautiful weather out.”

“My chauffeur took care of the tip and wants to know if I need the car…” she echoed back, trying to see if the words made more sense if she was the one saying them. No. No such luck. She was going mad. That was the only explanation. Or maybe the Captain wasn’t all he seemed to be and he had drugged her and this was simply a hallucination. Noticing the flock of bellhops was waiting patiently for her response, she smiled benignly and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

A voice called out from the doorway, “And what about breakfast, Baroness?”

The hotel employees filed out, leaving her and her unexpected visitor alone. Pulling the comforter more tightly around herself, she hissed, “Arthur. It was you.”

“What was me, my dear?”

“The money, the room, the clothes, the chauffeur. Does Baron Jones even exist, or did you make him up?”

“I like to think of him as more of a group effort. You provided the inspiration; I provided the title. Seeing you in all your lost girl glory last night gave me an idea.”

“From the moment you looked at me, I had an idea you had an idea. I’m not interested.”

Chuckling, he tossed his hat and jacket across a nearby chair and sank into the couch. “I’m sure there is a robe or something a little less linen closet in one of these suitcases. I’ll close my eyes while you look if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll stay over here.” Where it’s safe.

“You have nothing to fear from me, dear. I’m here to make a proposal. One that will be mutually beneficial, I hope,” he drawled, picking a piece of fluff off his pants. He continued to avert his eyes, which she found strange since he stopped by to proposition her over breakfast apparently. “This is only the tip of the iceberg. I can guarantee you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

“Still not interested. You know the way out.”

“Come on, Baroness. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and hear me out? I promise it’s nothing like what you think.”

“Arthur, when Little Red Riding Hood spots long, gray whiskers, it’s ridiculous to keep insisting you’re the grandmother,” she retorted, moving carefully toward the nearest bag so she didn’t accidentally flash him. Pulling out a shirt at random, she riffled through the case until she found a pair of shorts as well. Scrambling to the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder. “Go huff and puff somewhere else.”

“I guess that means I’m the big bad wolf,” he said with a smile as he moved to trail after her. When she slammed the door in his face, he raised his voice and added, “I’ve certainly been called worse. Tell me, what was your impression of Lance?”

“I think neither of you takes no for an answer very well,” she mumbled as she pulled on the shirt and stared at herself in the mirror. What bizarre alternate universe had she stumbled into, and how in the world was she going to return to reality. Talking to her reflection, she said, “You’re Emma Swan. You’re not a baroness. Killian Jones is not your husband. You are not going to shack up with Lance or Arthur.”

“Nice pep talk, but if I may be so bold as to suggest a different path,” her visitor interrupted from the other side of the door. “You see, my old friend Lancelot and my wife think they are in love.”

“That’s very cozy but not my problem.”

“I’d like to pay you to make it your problem, Emma Swan. Nice name, by the way. Last night was the first time since their affair started that I thought there might be a ray of hope. The whole time Lance was flirting with you, my wife was fighting tears.”

Rolling her eyes, she snapped open the door and was satisfied to see him lose his balance. “Who won?”

“I plan to, and I’d like you to be on my team. I just need you to keep his attention long enough for Guin to come to her senses.”

Moving past him, she picked up her discarded dress from the prior evening and grabbed the laundry bag out of the nearby closet. “Why don’t you punch him and be done with it?”

“He’s the top man at our boxing club. And besides, the last thing I need is to drive her further into his arms by making him a martyr.” He reached over and placed his hand on her arm, stilling her frantic movements. “Please. At least hear me out.”

Meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered the room, she observed, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yes. She’s not the only one who made mistakes. I need your help to make this right. And it might work out well for you too, you know. Lance’s family makes a superior income from a very inferior champagne. He’s no baron, but he does have the bank account of one.”

“I think you need a lawyer, not another homewrecker.”

“I’ll never get a divorce. Come on, Emma. We’re having a party at my estate in the Enchanted Forest. Come out this weekend and give it a go. I’ll pay you fifty thousand to show up and another fifty if this harebrained scheme works.”

“I… I’m not sure…”

“Am I upsetting some other plans? Do you have another offer?”

Thinking of black leather jackets and pie, she smiled wistfully. Shaking herself, she tried to focus on the fact that a hundred grand would pay back what Neal had stolen from Granny and leave enough for her to put a down payment on a place in the city. “Yes, I think I do. But fine, I’ll play along through the end of the weekend. Then I’m out regardless of what happens.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let Guin know I ran into you and invited you to join the party,” he said with a grin. If he had a mustache, she was sure he��d be twirling it.

Before they could discuss any other details, there was another knock at the door. With an exasperated expression, Emma asked her companion, “What now?”

Putting his hands up in a placating gesture, Arthur assured her, “Hey, this one isn’t me.”

Yanking open the door, she saw an enormous bouquet of red roses. She took the flowers with both hands as Arthur cocked his eyebrow in silent question and pulled out the card. “‘If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. -Lance.’ Huh. I rather resent that. The note to Guin just said, ‘So glad we met.’”

Notes:

For those who were wondering about Arthur’s trap, the Budapest subway is one of the oldest in the world and the line he mentioned was completed in 1896.

The quote on Lancelot’s card is from Claudia Adrienne Grandi.

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