#crack that i drew a while back i think it should be seen

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOWING SMOKE

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after rafe betrays her trust, y/n exposes his lies at a party, humiliating him in front of everyone—and walking away without looking back.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, sorry it’s not super soul-crushing but it’s very angsty and includes cheating >:( fuck cheaters !!

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: cheating, angst w/ no happy ending, allusions to sex, alcohol consumption, cursing, bad bitch!reader, asshole!rafe, mentions of daddy issues, reader finally putting rafe in his place, i’m thinking season 1/2 rafe because he was a cocky little shit🙄 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The air at the Boneyard was thick with salt and sweat, the bonfire crackling like a living thing, casting long shadows over the shifting sand. Laughter and music mixed with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the party in full swing. But Y/N wasn't here for fun.

Her grip on the red solo cup was tight, knuckles white from how hard she was holding it. The drink inside had gone warm, untouched. It wasn't why she came.

She was here for Rafe.

Her heart wasn't racing anymore. The initial sting of betrayal had settled into something colder, something sharper. She had spent days, weeks, pretending not to notice the whispers, the way people looked at her with pity. She had ignored the concerned glances from JJ, the hesitance in Pope's voice when he said, "Maybe you should talk to Sarah." She had brushed off Kie's sighs, the way she muttered, "You're not gonna like what you hear."

She had known. Deep down, she had known.

And then Sarah had confirmed it.

"I didn't want to tell you," Sarah had said earlier that evening, voice low, like she could somehow soften the blow. "But you deserve better. Rafe's been seeing other girls, Y/N. He's been lying to you."

Lying. Cheating. Playing her for a fool.

And then she had seen it with her own eyes.

Rafe Cameron, her Rafe, the boy who had spent countless nights tangled up with her, whispering things he swore he meant—his hands were on another girl. Blonde, pretty, giggling at something he said while he leaned in just a little too close.

And suddenly, all the times he'd shown up late, all the unexplained disappearances, the half-hearted apologies, they made sense.

She had been so fucking stupid.

But Y/N felt nothing now. No heartbreak, no regret. Just ice-cold clarity.

Rafe Cameron had walked into her life when she was at her weakest, slipping through the cracks her ex had left behind. He had smiled, kissed her, whispered things that felt too easy, too smooth. It was never supposed to be anything real, just something casual, just a way to forget. But then it had changed.

He had changed.

Late-night conversations that lasted until dawn. Foreheads pressed together, words left unspoken. His arms around her waist, his voice low when he admitted, "I don't do this, but with you..."

Lies. All of it.

And now, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly what kind of person Rafe Cameron really was.

She spotted him easily—he was impossible to miss. A walking ego dressed in an expensive polo shirt, short sleeves clinging to his toned biceps. A sight that would usually make her knees weak—not anymore. He was laughing with his friends, head thrown back, completely unaware of the storm heading his way.

Y/N pushed through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs, the knowing glances.

"Rafe."

Her voice cut through the music, through the party.

He turned, blue eyes locking onto hers. For a split second, there was something unreadable in his expression—maybe surprise, maybe guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar smirk, the one he always wore when he thought he could charm his way out of anything.

"Baby," he drawled, tilting his head. "Didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah?" She took another step forward, voice sharp. "Well, I had a few things I wanted to say to you."

Something in her tone made the smirk slip.

"Tell me, Rafe," she continued, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is she prettier than she was on the internet?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Conversations died. Even the music felt quieter.

Rafe's brows furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." She crossed her arms. "You've been screwing around, haven't you?"

Murmurs spread through the party, people shifting closer, drawn to the unfolding scene like moths to a flame.

Rafe let out a short laugh, but it wasn't confident—it was forced. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit."

Her voice was steady. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't break. Not for him.

"You knew my last love let me down," she said, tone cutting. "It was your one perfect opening, wasn't it? You saw me hurting, and you thought, why not? You wanted something easy. Someone easy. And the moment it stopped being fun for you, the moment it got real, you did what you always do. You ran."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "Y/N, stop."

"No." She took a step closer, her voice unwavering. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're just a spoiled little bitch with daddy issues, aren't you? You think money fixes everything, that you can get away with anything. But you know what, Rafe? You just look stupid."

Someone in the crowd—JJ, probably—let out a low whistle.

"You look stupid going out," she continued, her voice rising. "If she's got a pulse, she meets your standards now. It's pathetic."

Rafe's face darkened, but he said nothing. Because he knew she was right.

"You couldn't point her out in any crowd, could you?" Y/N's voice was mocking now, full of venom. "She doesn't matter. None of them do. They're just distractions, just more girls to help you bury the baggage you've been carrying."

A few gasps echoed through the crowd. Even Topper, standing nearby, looked disappointed.

"Man," Topper muttered, shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah," JJ piped up, crossing his arms. "I mean, we all knew you were an asshole, but even for you, this is low."

Rafe's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Shut the fuck up, Maybank."

"Or what?" JJ grinned. "You gonna hit me? Take your anger out on someone else because you can't handle the truth?"

Pope, standing next to Kie, shook his head. "She deserves better."

Sarah, arms crossed, looked at her brother with something like disgust. "You don't even look sorry."

Y/N let out a cold laugh. "Of course he doesn't. Because he's not." She turned her gaze back to Rafe. "You know what the sad part is? I actually believed you. I actually thought, maybe this time, it's different. But it never is, is it?"

Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to find the words.

Y/N took one last step forward, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear. "I'll say what they won't, Rafe. I know everything they don't. And I see you for exactly what you are."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. For the first time all night, he looked truly unsettled.

Good.

Without another word, Y/N lifted her drink—still untouched—and, with the sharpest satisfaction, poured the entire thing over his head.

Gasps. Laughter. Cheers.

Rafe stood there, drenched, humiliated, and for the first time in his life—completely powerless.

Y/N turned away, not sparing him another glance. She walked past the crowd, past the Pogues, past the remnants of something that had never been real.

She didn't cry. She didn't look back.

And as she disappeared into the night, Rafe Cameron realised—too late—that he had just lost the only person who had ever truly seen him.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this was somewhat what you asked for anon !! if not, feel free to drop another request with specifics and i’d be so happy to write that :)

editing the few drafts i have so i can upload them asap !! just in case anybodies wondering why i’m uploading so much, it’s because i have pre-written some of these requests form weeks ago and have only just gotten around to editing them :)

[ebysse]

snape but its a uniqlo product photoshoot

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 who do you love? . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- mistress! reader goes bonkers and films a surprise video for Rafe and his wife's anniversary. ۶ৎ

warnings -- 18+-mdni, smut (unprotected p i v), breeding kink, video voyeurism, infidelity, mention of alcohol usage, age gap, cursing, pussy whipped! rafe, homegirl is... yeah

other woman masterlist |taglist | based on this ask | wc: 1.7k

You knew exactly what you were doing when you typed her name into Facebook's search bar. Your fingers moved with purpose, guided by an obsession you couldn't shake.

There it was - Rafe's wife's profile, and right at the top, exactly what you'd been hunting for: a fresh post celebrating their decade of marriage, complete with a photo from their younger days when their love still seemed pure and untainted. You stared at their beaming faces, letting the bitterness wash over you.

Each scroll feels like turning a knife in your own heart, but you can't stop.

Their life unfolds before you like some twisted fairy tale: Rafe teaching their daughter to ride a bike, their annual trips to the Maldives, their matching Christmas sweaters with those damn Dobermans.

And her—always her—wearing that diamond tennis bracelet you once saw in his browser history, claiming the life that should have been yours.

This should be me, the thought burns like acid.

Your fingers hover over a photo of their Mediterranean cruise, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his chest, that massive engagement ring catching the sunset.

She has everything: the weekend brunches at that fancy place downtown, the Range Rover you've seen in their driveway, the three beautiful children with his eyes, the garden parties you watch from afar, and him—God, especially him.

The life that slipped through your fingers because of timing and trust funds. She had everything you didn't: old money, country club connections, and most crucially—age.

While you were still learning to drive, she was already the perfect socialite, the appropriate choice for a man of Rafe's standing. The Seventeen-year age gap between you and Rafe might as well have been an ocean—one that she had already crossed long before you even learned to swim.

Sometimes you wonder if that's what drew him to you in the first place: your youth, your naivety, everything that made you so different from her. Everything that ultimately made you impossible.

Your wine glass is empty again. When did that happen?

A tear escaped your eye as jealousy carved deeper into your chest, the pain spreading until you could barely breathe. Your trembling fingers found your phone, muscle memory still remembering his number after all these years. You knew it was wrong—God, you knew—but you pressed call anyway.

One ring. Two rings. Your heart threatened to burst.

"Hello?" His voice, still so familiar, sent electricity through your body.

"I—" your voice cracked, "I need to see you, Rafe. Please. I can't… I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm so alone tonight. Please come over, I need you."

The silence that followed felt eternal—like light years away, stretching between your world and his, filled with everything unsaid.

You could picture him there, standing in his perfect house with his perfect family just rooms away, probably running his fingers through his hair the way he always did when he was conflicted.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you heard him move, presumably stepping outside or into his study. Then came that familiar sound—the slow exhale through his nose that you remembered from countless late nights together, when difficult decisions hung in the air between you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough with something that might have been regret or desire or both: "I'm on my way."

Three simple words that shattered whatever remained of your resolve. You ended the call before he could change his mind, before reality could catch up to either of you, before guilt could claw its way back in.

Your hands shook as you set the phone down, knowing that in fifteen minutes—twenty at most—you'd hear his car in your driveway, and everything would change again.

When he steps through your door, the world narrows to just this: his loosened tie, your trembling hands, the soft thud as his back hits the wall. "We shouldn't," he whispers, even as his fingers dig into your hips, even as he pulls you closer.

You silence his protest with a kiss that tastes like regret and wanting, knowing tomorrow will bring guilt but tonight—tonight belongs to muscle memory and bad decisions.

Your hands roam greedily over each other, ripping clothes away with primal urgency. Your mouths hungrily devour one another, teeth nipping at lips as you guide him to the bedroom. Your heart races with desire and anticipation, knowing what awaits in the heat of passion.

The phone you carefully propped against the lamp earlier blinks silently in the darkness, its camera catching everything. You position him perfectly in its view, letting him think it's just desire guiding your movements.

"God, I've missed you," he breathes against your collar bone, completely unaware that every word, every moan, every mistake is being captured. You almost feel guilty—almost.

Then you think of her Facebook shrine to their perfect marriage, and something shifts inside you—guilt crystallizing into purpose.

Your phone keeps recording in the darkness, anticipating to capture every betrayal, every whispered confession.

Soon, her perfectly filtered life won't matter anymore. Soon, you'll have something far more precious than any photograph: Rafe—cornered, desperate, and finally yours.

Without hesitation, you shoved Rafe onto your queen size bed. Straddling his naked body, you disregarded any notion of foreplay.

As much as you craved the feeling of his tongue on your clit or his thick fingers probing you, all that mattered was having Rafe's cock buried in your cunt.

"Damn, you weren't kidding. You really do need me," Rafe smirked as his palm immediately found its way to your dripping core, but to your dismay was swatted away.

With a seductive grin, cooed in your sweet, high-pitched voice that made Rafe's brain mush. "Un huh, now be a good boy and let me take care of myself," you purred, guiding his rock-hard cock to the entrance of your wetness.

"Are you going to let me do that?" Your tone was condescending, but it only fueled the intense desire between you both, and because Rafe's mind turned to mush the moment you said you needed him, he nodded, totally pussy whipped and enamored by you.

The sharp gasp that escaped both of your lips was matched only by the intensity of your desire.

Slowly, you sank down onto Rafe's throbbing cock, savoring the feeling of him stretching you just as he always did.

"You're so tight, baby," he groaned out, his voice dripping with lust.

As you remembered the phone set up hidden by your side table lamp, a mischievous thought crossed your mind:

"Am I tighter than your wife?" you asked, already beginning to rock your hips on his length. Naturally, Rafe's hands found their way to your waist, not to guide you but to bring you closer to his lips.

"So much tighter, shit," he breathed out between hot kisses, with each agonizing slow rock.

"You're gonna leave her for me, huh?" you asked, face to face with Rafe, cradling his jaw to peck his lips. Slowly, you began to pick up the pace. 

Your rhythmic movements escalate into frenzied bouncing, his hard length molding perfectly to your slick walls, stretching you to the limit. You lift yourself up and press down on Rafe's chest for leverage, driving him deeper and harder into you

Rafe's eyes rolled back as you bounced harder, your pussy gripping him like a vice. "Fuck, I… I don't know," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts.

You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest as you whispered in his ear, "Come on, baby. Tell me you'll leave her. Tell me I'm the only one you want." Your walls clenched around him for emphasis, drawing a strangled moan from his lips.

"God, yes," Rafe panted, completely lost in the sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. "I'll leave her. You're all I want, fuck!"

Hearing those words sent a thrill through you. You began to bounce faster, slamming yourself down onto his thick cock with abandon. Your breasts bounced enticingly and Rafe reached up to cup them, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

"Say it again," you demanded breathlessly, grinding your hips in circles. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, baby," Rafe panted, thrusting up to meet your movements. "All fucking yours."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your tongue tangling with his as you continued to ride him relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your shared moans of pleasure.

"Gonna cum for me?" you asked, clenching your walls around him. "Gonna fill me up? Gonna give me one of your babies?"

"Yeah, gonna stuff your sweet pussy with my hot load, fuck, I'm about to explode," Rafe moaned, his nails digging into your flesh, leaving red marks on your hips.

You reached down to rub tight circles on your clit, chasing your own release. "Me too, don't stop," you gasped.

With a few more forceful thrusts, you both toppled over the brink together, moaning in bliss as powerful waves of pleasure engulfed you. Rafe followed suit, releasing his hot and sticky load inside you, filling you up completely.

The afterglow lasts exactly thirty seconds before Rafe is already reaching for his clothes, his movements quick and efficient like this is just another business meeting wrapping up, breathing hasn't even steadied.

"I need to get back," he says, checking his watch. "We have dinner reservations at La Maison."

"Of course. The anniversary dinner." Your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. "Rafe?" He pauses, shirt half-buttoned. "Did you mean any of it? What you said while we were…?"

He crosses the room, cups your face, and plants a soft kiss on your lips—the kind that feels like goodbye. Then he's gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.

You sit in the twisted sheets, his warmth already fading, listening to his car fade into the distance. Your hands shake as you reach for your phone and stop the recording. The email address you've had memorized for months appears in the recipient field without hesitation. You attach the video—forty-three minutes of undeniable truth—and watch the upload bar creep forward. In the subject line, you type five words that will demolish their perfect life: "Happy Anniversary, From Us Both."

Your finger hovers over 'send' for just a heartbeat before pressing down. Let her enjoy those reservation plans now.

Now he'll have to choose, you think, watching the loading bar reach 100%. And this time, he'll choose me.

a/n -- thanks for making it to the end, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore

[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion loses sight of you in a fight, he fears the worse has happened to you. He finds you and manages to bring you back to shadowheart for healing, only to discover he has more to protect than just you…

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Pregnancy

(Click For Part Two)

You were fearless. He watched as you swung your dagger effortlessly, piercing into the necks of their enemies.

He wondered how you still managed to look elegant even when covered in the blood of fallen warriors.

His gaze never left you for too long, making sure you were safe, while he stealthed around the makeshift arena, racking up his own share of kills. How glorious this was! There was so much blood splattering all around them and with his love at his side it truly couldn’t get any better.

Astarion’s eyes couldn’t be everywhere though, and at some point, he lost sight of you. The last person to recognize him for what he’s worth, the one person he truly couldn’t afford to lose.

His head darted across the battlefield, desperately trying to find you. His panic plunged into sheer dread as fear overcame him. It was happening all over again, he’d seen this before… Alone.. No, please, he couldn’t let this be his fate.

He hadn’t felt fear this whole day; why should he? He was free of Cazador, had you- A subtle manic laugh drew from his throat, he’d never be free of fear, instead of fearing for himself or what his old master would do to him he now feared what would happen to you when in danger.

His red eyes turned a dark shade of black. The expression of a crazy man etched onto Astarion’s face. No, he wouldn’t let fear consume him, no more! He’d finally be the protector! Overcome with fury he went on a rampage. Cutting through the battlefield, slaughtering anyone and everyone in his way, determined to find you. He raced over to where he last saw you, faster than a blue dragon's lightning splits through the air in a storm.

Was he truly going to be the reason you passed on to the next life. Was his fate to destroy everything he held near and dear to his heart? He nearly killed you before with his own fangs and now, no! He wasn’t the cause of that, was he? He hadn’t ever tasted human blood before, but if he was stronger it wouldn’t have happened! If he would’ve ascended he would’ve been able to stop this, however he’s still just a spawn… How could you have fought for his love, a fool who couldn’t even protect you. A fool who was going to be the reason you die.

“FIND HER” He roared at the top of his lungs. “FIND TAV!”

The group of companions didn’t dare hesitate and instantly started searching the grounds, Gale being the second most worried.

Astarion was about to collapse to his knees before hearing Gale's voice, “I’ve found her!” in the distance. It filled him with more apprehension. All he could think is, ��what if she’s dead’.

Staggering up the hill where Gale’s voice had come from, Astarion can see a figure laying in the dirt next to the wizard, “No! You can’t die dammit! Get up!!” he rushed out his words, dismay evident in his tone as he knelt next to you.

“She is unconscious, but alive. There’s hope.” Gale replied.

Astarion let out a shaky breath of relief.

“We must get her back to camp,” Astarion demanded. “She needs Shadowheart, she’s the only one who can fix this!” His voice cracked despite his efforts to mask it.

“I agree.” Gale, mere inches from grabbing you to lift you in his arms until the pale elf stopped him, “Don’t touch her!- I- I will carry her.” Trying to compose himself he lifted you bridal style.

Astarion never left your side during Shadowhearts attempts to heal you. Time never bothered him, not after his 200 years of torment, he waited as “patiently” as he could.

“Honestly, how long does it take! You could at least give me some good news!”

Shadowheart continued to focus on you best she could, everyone including the gods were used to Astarions fits at this point. Gale on the other hand not so much, he could hear Astarion all the way in his own tent which caused the wizard to scrunch his nose. Eventually, leading him to where you were being treated, “Astarion, why don’t you join me in some wine. I’ve got quite the choices, besides… It might be best if we give her some space.”

Astarion scowled, “You expect me to leave her side to join you in some cheap wine? Really? I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Gale.”

“It’s done. She’ll be fine after some more rest.” Shadowheart stood from your side and wipes the blood off her hands. She’s been traveling with you and these two men for far too long, toning out their bickering was a skill of hers at this point.

Turning to face you, if his heart could beat he knows it would’ve dropped in his chest this very moment… “Leave us-“ kneeling down next to your bedroll, his eyes fixed on your bandaged wound, “please.”

“I was able to save her,” -Shadowheart bent down towards Astarion- “and the child, but it took most of my energy and resources… Don’t ask for me again for a while. Keep them both safe.”

He was quiet, his eyes wide after the news he was just told.

“Ahhh,” Shadowheart’s voice was surprised, “she didn’t tell you yet? Hmm or perhaps she hadn’t known yet? Curious.”

Astarion could only stare at his love, “A-are you for certain?”

Gale interjected, “I doubt her magic would deceive her, congratulations.”

Dark bruises and cuts decorated your once perfect skin. A deep purple shade surrounded your right puffy eye. His eyes traveled further down your body, stopping at your stomach.

He caressed your still flat stomach, causing you to wince and awake. Retreating his hand, he awaited for your eyes to open and look up at him.

A-Astarion?” You spoke with a small smile carved on your lips.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” He struggled out, trying his best not to crumble.

You were both silent, hands entwined with one another thankful that you both can spend another day alive in the presence of another.

He was the first to break the silence, “thank you.”

You were so weak, but you wanted to know why he was thanking you out of the blue, “For what?” Your voice barely heard.

“For this,” his hand stretching out to rest on your abdomen, “for giving me purpose again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing what he was talking about until it finally hit you. Your arm wavered as you lifted it to place your hand atop of his on your belly. A gentle smile forming on your lips as you stared into his vermilion eyes.

When your breath became labored indicating you had fallen asleep again, Astarion’s attention was back at your torso where the bandage was slowly being stained by your blood. This moment of relief turned to anger again as he lashed out, slapping a metal canister of water out the tent with force. The absolute intrigued him at first, more power meant being stronger to protect you, but now… He was beyond ever considering it again. The cultist not only almost killed you, but the child growing from within you!

“How dare they…” He seethed, “How dare they harm her and my child!”

Astarion was pacing around angrily, how could he have allowed this to happen? He started to blame himself.

“Astarion-“ You spoke up, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show them, my love-“ he cut you off, “that nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.” He growled.

His eyes darkened again: “I’ll make them pay.”

[versairic]

Gingerbread house | DR3

In which Daniel and you do a gingerbread house building battle, but it goes differently than it should

pairing - daniel ricciardo x reader

words - 1687

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The frost had covered the window panes with filigree ice crystals that looked like delicate, sparkling patterns in the weak light. The cold drew relentlessly through the cracks, as if it were an invisible breath that crept into every little corner.

The frost clung stubbornly to the glass as if it wanted to hold it forever in its icy embrace, while outside the evening settled over the landscape in icy silence.

This weather was the perfect excuse to curl up in front of the warm fireplace with a blanket and a hot chocolate.

Countless people seemed to have the same idea as you and Daniel, as there was no one to be seen on the street for miles around. Not even a car drove through the street of the block of flats where Daniel and you had been living for not too long.

The flickering light of the fireplace and the warm glow of the countless fairy lights created a relaxed atmosphere, while the smell of your cocoa and the gingerbread scent of a scented candle lingered in the air.

Cosy blankets lay around your shoulders, while chaos reigned on the living room table.

The gingerbread house kits, tubes of icing and heaps of colourful decorations consisting of sweet treats were scattered all over the place.

"You do realise that this will be my victory?" Daniel grinned as he carelessly threw the box with the instructions on how best to assemble the gingerbread house behind him.

Just a few days ago, you had discovered the colourful boxes of gingerbread houses in the supermarket and Daniel had immediately come up with a challenge idea.

The best gingerbread house would win. However, you hadn't yet clarified the question of how it would be decided who had the most beautiful gingerbread house.

"Don't be so sure Ricciardo," you replied, giving him a serious look that only made Daniel laugh even harder. "You'll stop laughing. I swear to you."

A grin crept onto your face as Daniel rolled his eyes and then let his hands crack slightly.

"An hour, then?" the Aussie asked as he took his mobile phone out of his trouser pocket and opened the timer app.

"Yes, but first I have to get something!" you replied quickly as you jumped up and ran out of the warm room.

"Don't you dare prepare something to help you cheat!" Daniel called after you as you dived into the storeroom, which was in quite a mess, and began to look for what you needed.

A short time later, when you came back into the warm living room with the thing you had specially prepared and the warmth immediately enveloped you again and made you sigh softly, Daniel began to look at you in confusion.

In your hand, you were holding a partition that you had specially made out of cardboard so that Daniel and you had more or less a little protection from each other and could build your gingerbread house in peace so that the other person couldn't steal any tips and tricks.

"This really takes me back to my school days," smiled the Aussie as you placed the cardboard wall between the two of you on the living room table.

"Well then, I hope that puts you under a lot of pressure and makes you nervous," you replied with a cheeky grin as you placed all the things you needed for the little house neatly on the table in front of you to keep a perfect overview of everything.

It wasn't unusual for Daniel and you to tease each other on a daily basis. Sometimes even for the smallest of things. You could be forgiven for thinking that this was part of your love language.

"I told you I was going to win." Daniel looked over the partition and began to waggle his eyebrow, which made you roll your eyes this time.

"Weirdo," you commented with a giggle, before giving him a shake through his curls, which hadn't been sitting neatly on his head for a few days and would soon be in need of a bitter visit to the hairdresser.

"Okay, here we go...3...2...1...GO!" shouted Daniel and then set the timer for an hour before you set to work.

While you proceeded calmly and tactically and began to coat the house with icing piece by piece and then put the appropriate pieces into the floor, Daniel began to randomly coat pieces with icing and somehow press them into the floor, so that one or two pieces hung crookedly in the floor and quiet swearing could be heard from his side.

All in all, the room was plunged into creative chaos.

You kept hearing low murmurs coming from Daniel's direction, which made you realise that things weren't going the way he wanted.

"So, problems, boss?" you asked, while the walls of your gingerbread house were already bombproof and only the roof was still missing.

On the whole, your house was pretty straight, which could not be said of the leaning and slightly crumbling walls of Daniel's gingerbread house, which was only held together with difficulty.

"I'll be fine. How are you looking? Are you trying to divert attention from your mess?" he asked instead as he spread more icing on one wall, causing it to collapse completely.

"It looks good here, Love."

"Oh, I don't think so," he more or less shot back while trying to save his wall somehow, but he decided against moving the other walls a little so that the missing fourth wall wouldn't be noticeable.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Daniel fishing for the packet of gingerbread house that he had thrown across the room a few minutes ago.

"What are you doing?" Your eyebrows rose as you watched in confusion as he kicked the box back in his direction.

And then his hands, with something in them, wandered under the table over to the box.

"Danny, what are you doing? Are you trying to cover something up? " you asked indignantly, whereupon the Aussie began to shake his head wildly.

"Stop accusing me of something like that. I'm not doing anything! I'm just looking for a tissue. My fingers are sticky from all the icing!" he tried to talk his way out of it, but it was already too late, because you had already seen through him.

Without paying any further attention to the partition, you pulled the piece of cardboard off the table and looked down at his gingerbread house, which was now collapsing like a house of cards due to the light breeze from the cardboard.

"Maaan!", Daniel sulked exaggeratedly. "I put so much effort into it."

A laugh escaped your lips. It was really amusing to see Daniel sitting there, sulking like a little child and looking down at his broken gingerbread house, completely forgetting that he was literally holding the piece of wall he wanted to make disappear under your nose.

"Aha! What have we got there?" With a skilful movement, you grabbed the piece of gingerbread and waved it around in front of your friend's eyes. " You wanted to cheat! That's five points off for Huffelpuff!"

"You're seriously putting me in Huffelpuff?"

The fact that you thought he belonged in the Hufflepuff house from Harry Potter seemed to shock him more than the fact that you had just caught him in the act.

"I think the house suits you best. What did you think? Slytherin?"

In response, the Aussie just grumbled and then let his eyes wander over to the gingerbread house, which stood perfectly in front of you with barely any icing oozing out of the places where you had stuck them together.

"Your house definitely looks too perfect," Daniel more or less realised and before you could react, he had already leaned over and bitten off a piece of your gingerbread house, which made you gasp in shock.

He didn't really do that just now, did he?

"Daniel!" you moaned out his name, more or less stunned, while the typical Daniel grin formed on his lips.

"what?" he mumbled with his mouth full.

"You're really impossible. And this is anything but fair. First you try to cover up your wall and then you sabotage my house, which I built with a lot of love and effort."

You tried to remain serious, but you were anything but successful as Daniel put on a sugar-sweet pout that made him grin slightly.

"If my house isn't perfect, yours shouldn't be either," he continued to pout like a little child.

It really was always amusing with Daniel. Since the two of you have been in a relationship, it clearly hasn't been boring once. On the contrary. Every day brought something new and funny.

And there really hasn't been a single day since you've been with Daniel that you haven't laughed.

Because the Aussie made sure that you laughed at least ten times a day.

"My house was far from perfect, Danny. But you should have covered up your fourth wall much better. Then this would never have happened," you replied, shrugging your shoulders and reaching for the sweets to somehow save the little spot that Daniel had bitten off.

"Then I'll build something else. How about a second floor for your house? " he tried, literally ripping the walls off the gingerbread house before sliding close to you and sticking the three remaining walls in your face.

"Don't touch my house," you replied, playing serious, while she giggled and you actually gave in in the end.

And so in one hour you didn't build two gingerbread houses, but a two-storey crooked gingerbread house with crooked walls and ceilings, but that didn't matter.

Most of the icing and sweets ended up in your bellies when you were building the house anyway, so the house hardly had any decoration left and would have collapsed from all the icing in the end anyway.

And either way, the most important thing was to have fun. And you clearly had it.

[perseephoneee]

starlight [ficmas day 11] [peter parker x afab!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

author's note: we're in the home stretch of ficmas which means these will likely be shorter drabbles but HEY you'll get more of them.

playlist:

peter parker -- the sleepy haunts

thank you -- led zeppelin

cold december night -- michael buble

I. Gemini

"Do you think he realizes he's had Cheez-it crumbs stuck in his mustache this entire time?" you ask, twirling your pencil between your fingers. 

Peter narrowed his eyes at what you were looking at, which happened to be your Professor. To be completely honest, he had stopped listening to the lecture a while ago. 

"I don't think he notices."

"Ridiculous," you groaned, sinking back into your seat. "This class is ridiculous."

Peter stifled laughter. It was fall quarter at the local community college, and he had met the first day in Astronomy 101. He had to take an elective, and this one was the least likely to ruin his Spider-Man duties. You sat down right next to him on the first day and introduced yourself before offering him goldfish. It was a fast friendship. 

"You only have a few more weeks until winter break," Peter reminded you, trying to engage back with the lesson. You were doodling stars. 

"Ah, a few more weeks until hibernation." You grinned at Peter, one full of teeth and mischief. He felt his heart rate pick up, but he stamped it down. He couldn't get close to you, not like that. You resumed sitting normally in your seat. "Do you have plans for the holidays?"

"Uh…no," he tapped his notebook. He had been trying his best to ignore the holidays. They'd be the first ones without Aunt May. "My family isn't really in the picture."

"That's okay," you responded. "Mine aren't either."

Peter respected how understanding you could be. You never pushed him to open up, even if you did push him to engage with the world outside. You never asked why he'd sometimes be covered in cuts and bruises. You just handed him a bandaid and told him about some puppy you saw walking over the class. He wonders if you knew how amazing you could be. 

"What do you want for Christmas, Pete?" you inquired. You pulled a bag of goldfish out of your backpack and offered some to him. He took a few. 

My Aunt. Ned. MJ. Mr. Stark. My life, Peter wanted to say. He bit his tongue, thinking of an answer. 

"Maybe a soldering station."

"Nerd," you teased, but there was no venom behind it. "I want Drew Starkey at my doorstep."

"How's that going for you?"

"Awful," you sighed, and Peter couldn't help but laugh. A few rows looked over to glare at you two. You flipped them all off. Students started getting up at that moment, and class ended. You stretched, your bones cracking in the process. "Let's go get pho; it's freezing outside."

Peter didn't even really like pho, but you liked it, so he'd go. He'd go wherever you asked. 

II. Canis Major

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

Peter groaned, shuffling out of bed. There was someone knocking on his window. He had a good feeling about who that someone was. 

You were sitting on his fire escape, breathing on the glass of his window and drawing obscene images with your finger. He opened the window to your grin. 

"It's four in the morning," Peter groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

"Put on your business clothes; there are shooting stars that can be seen at Battery Park."

"Astronomy class is over; we're on break now."

"And stars are beautiful. Beauty should be appreciated," you said, shoving your hands in your pockets. You were wearing a scarf and mittens, your hair pushed back with your beanie. Peter didn't know how long you'd been out there. "I appreciate you, don't I?"

Sometimes, Peter hated you because you said things like that, which made his ears red and his words stop working. He thinks you continued to say them because of that reaction. 

"I'll get dressed."

"Atta boy."

He put on his warmest clothes and followed you down the fire escape. You had brewed coffee at home and handed him a thermos. You were always prepared; that much was sure. On the subway, it would only take half an hour on the E to get to Battery Park. It was basically empty when you guys got on. You sat in companionable silence as you rode the distance. 

Peter was slightly more awake by the time you got off the subway, the cold air helping with his drowsiness. You were annoyingly perky for the early morning. He followed you up one of the hills to an alcove of trees. You had brought a backpack with you, which you pulled a blanket out of, and some hand warmers. Peter sat down next to you as you stared at the sky with the energy of a kid on Christmas. 

"Aren't you excited?" you whispered.

"I'll be excited when I'm dead."

"I forget how snarky you are when you're tired," you frown. Peter chuckles because he doesn't think you're used to someone being as witty as you are. You grab his arm when the first shooting star appears. He has to admit that it's beautiful and insane. It was a meteor shower in the flesh, and you both sat peacefully and watched the stars crash by. You leaned against Peter, your warmth finding solace in his own. You smelled like fresh coffee and winter mornings. You turned to him, face so close to his own. "Make a wish, Parker."

Peter could've wished for a whole lotta things, but for some reason, he settled on more moments like these. He wondered what you wished for. 

You both stayed until the sun started to rise. 

"Will you come and spend Christmas with me? It's just my Dad, and he has to work the night shift."

Peter said yes because he could never say no to you. 

III. Orion

You and your Dad prepared roast ham with scalloped potatoes and steamed vegetables for Christmas dinner. Peter didn't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal. 

He liked your Dad, even if he was intimidating. He was the police chief, so he was intimidating, but he also had a fatherly warmth that didn't make him seem scary. Peter thought he probably wouldn't be upset to be arrested by him. 

Your Dad had to run to the station for Christmas shenanigans and left you and Pete with some dessert that he bought at the bakery down the street. Currently, Peter is on dishwashing duty. You were sipping some wine that you found in a cabinet and leaning against the lip of the sink. Peter was soaping up one of the pans. 

"I got you a gift," you say, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Peter groans.

"I told you not to."

"I'm not a good listener."

"I knew that much," Peter mumbles. You laugh, squeezing his arm as you walk to the living room behind him. You come back a second later with a ribbon-tied package. Peter dries his hands. "You really shouldn't have."

"I like giving gifts," you shrug. "Now open it."

He does. It's a series of pocketbooks about different mathematical theories. He's embarrassed about how excited he is about them. Peter hugs you as a thank you. 

"I got you something as well."

"Now, who's not a good listener?" you said matter of factedly. Peter goes to his bag, grabs a haphazardly wrapped package, and hands it to you with a blush on his cheeks. You take apart the wrapping delicately, even though it's badly done. You let out a squeal of delight as you see what it is. "A cat!"

"A robotic cat. It'll purr if you pet it," Peter explains, showing the inner workings of the cat. He used the college's engineering lab for their 3D printer, soldering station, and electronics supplies. He knew you wanted a pet, but your apartment wouldn't allow it. You cuddled the boxy creature to your chest. 

"It's perfect," you hummed. You put the cat down and kissed Peter on the cheek. His cheek still burned after the fact, and suddenly, he wanted to tell you everything. You had been his only friend since everything happened. You were the most understanding person he knew. And he was so tired of hiding everything. 

“Y/N?”

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell you something?" Peter coughed. He looked down at your hands, which you were holding. He didn't even recognize you grabbed his hands after you kissed his cheek; he was so focused on the latter. You nodded, brows furrowed, telling him to continue on. The words were mush in his throat, but he pushed through anyway. 

"I'm Spider-Man," he stuttered. He expected you to freak out, to demand answers. You just blinked at him. 

"I know."

"You know?"

"I'm perceptive," you shrugged. He was dumbfounded. "You're cute when you're confused." He was even more dumbfounded. You stepped backward, pulling him towards your room. "I have a secret too."

Peter was now in a state of shock since it seemed that you already knew his biggest secret. He had no idea what to expect in your room. A secret drug stash? A collection of Beanie Babies? He had no idea. You opened your closet and rifled through the bottom before pulling out something white and pink. Then you proceeded to thoroughly wreck his mind. 

You thwipped a web, closing the door. 

Peter's jaw dropped.

"I may or may not be Spider-Woman."

You stood in silence. 

"You're WHAT?"

[algea]

Ghoul School (pt 2)

prompt: when you get out of the hospital, Lars has put it onto himself to take care of you until you're healed. I can confirm that there is a big chuck of text where you're really pissed off at him before he gets his shit together!

warnings: tbh i literally dont even know. umm yeah your shin is broken and you're concussed so. things may or may not get a little steamy...cussing duh

a/n: im super mega surprised all my Lars stuff has gotten popular; i think it’s very insanely unhealthy how much i love James Acaster.

~ there are a LOT of little secret references to James in here, comment what you picked out ;)

~ also this is probably longer than the first part idk, but its officially the longest post ive written @jesssuperwholock03

~requested by @thestralluvr

Lars visited you everyday. Every morning, every evening after work, sometimes even over his lunch breaks, like clockwork. You were beginning to think it was seriously unhealthy. You were lying in the hospital bed, 4 days after the incident, with your eyes closed. You heard a soft click of the door and you cracked your eyes slightly. You, being oh-so-surprised, were met with the tired face of your crush colleague and work partner. He wore his jumper tied around his waist, a dark colored button up adorning his body. His hair looked disheveled, which could only mean he had just finished a job. He looked so tired, more tired than you've ever seen him be. It was annoying, honestly. Annoying how attractive he was without even trying. 'Why can't I look like that' you thought to yourself, mentally frowning. You decided to acknowledge his presence, seeing how he took time, again, out of his day to come and visit you.

"Lars." You stated, turning your head look over at him. Lars froze, gazing down at your solemn face. You started to reach out to him, but thought otherwise and rested your hand back on the crisp sheets. You watched as he pushed his glasses up and pulled a chair to sit beside you. Lars rested his forearms on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped.

"I was told that you'll be able to get out of here today." He whispered, his tired eyes searching your face. He was desperate for you to come back, back to how things used to be, where he would tease you, and you would always find witty comeback. But he knew you couldn't, not for a while at least. Lars was so scared you weren't going to be able to work for Ghost Corps anymore, especially since the concussion you got really fucked up your head. Not to mention your shin, which was a huge impact on you.

Lars let out a shaky breath. He unclasped his hands and ran one through his hair. You reached out, more confidently this time, and rested your hand on his. He didn't move his hand; he was scared if you let go, you'd disappear.

"Lars." You said again, your face flashing with worry. Your other hand softly touched his chin, holding his face so delicately.

"I'm scared that you're not going to come back." Lars stated, grimacing at the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Why wouldn't I come back? What made you think this?" You asked, your eyebrows drawing together in a sad furrow.

"I want things to be the same, I don't want things to change." He whispered quietly, his eyes cast down.

"I think you and I both know that it won't be the same, neither of us want to admit it. Normally, you don't go around kissing people and pretend like you hate each other for the rest of your life." You explained, searching his eyes for an answer. His eyes glanced back at you as his cheeks burned with pink. You tipped his head to the side ever so slightly, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

"That's unfair, Lars. You can't expect me to leave you alone after that." You pleaded.

"Can we just drop it? It really doesn't fucking matter right now.” Lars snapped. You drew your hand away from his face, hurt flashing across your face.

“What I meant was that we should focus on getting you out of here.” He frantically explained. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away again. Lars had never felt an emotion like this. His ears were ringing and his brain was hazy. It could’ve only been described as embarrassment. He wouldn't cry, no, that's not what he wanted to do. He wanted to apologize over and over again until you'd forget he ever did anything or said anything.

“I think it's maybe time for you to go. When I get out, do me a favor and send Lucky and Pheebs to get me.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Lars sat there for a few moments, his jaw clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, to make you understand how he felt. Instead, he got up and, with a longing gaze down at you, left.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes, which you allowed to fall down your cheeks. If he wanted to play that dumbass game again, you could do it, just not like you used to. You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until he walked out of the door, not looking back. You slammed your hand down on the bed in a fit of rage, which turned into a soft cry. You wished that you could make better sense of it all, but your wishes never came true.

It was only 2 hours after that you were discharged. Lucky and Phoebe, just as you had requested, rushed in to see you as soon as they could.

"Y/N!" Phoebe exclaimed, running to you and giving you a big hug. You smiled and hugged her back, or at least as much as you could with your crutches. Lucky joined in on the hug before you parted and started making your way to the car.

"Everyone is so happy you're coming home! We've all been super worried." Phoebe smiled, giving you a big smile.

"I'm so happy I get to see you guys again, Pheebs." You grinned back, ruffling her hair. Your mind wandered to Lars as you crutched your way to the car.

"Has um..." You started, realizing that the words were harder to get out of your mouth than you thought.

"He's not here. I haven't seen him since we went out this morning." Lucky explained, catching on to what you were about to ask. You looked down and nodded. 'Of course, how could I be so goddamn stupid.' You thought. Phoebe helped you into the car while Lucky set your crutches next to you. Trevor was driving, which was a whole other risk to be taking.

"Since when did they let you drive?" You asked, grinning at Trevor.

"Since Lars bailed at the last minute. I'm a great driver, so I have no idea what you're even talking about." Trevor bragged. 'He bailed at last minute? He never does that...' You thought sadly. He could've just been working really hard on whatever science thing he was studying. You really didn't know, but it did cut a little.

You didn't know you were carsick until you let Trevor drive you home. You thought Lars was a bad driver, but you quickly realized that Trevor was on the list of 'Never-Ever Drive Me Again,' along with Gary and Ray. You made a mental note of that as you struggled to stand to get out of the car. Trevor quickly rushed to your side to help you, easily pulling you up. You casted your gaze up, which fell on the Firehouse. 'Oh good, he won't be here.' You thought, as a feeling of relief washed over you. You hobbled in next to Phoebe and Trevor with Lucky trailing in not far behind. Callie and Gary stood right after the door, waiting for your arrival. As soon as you entered the Firehouse they were by your side, giving you warm 'hello's' and 'I'm so happy you're back and ok.' You were quick to hug them, hoping to talk to them about your situation with Lars.

"Alright kiddos, time to let the adults talk." Gary clapped, shooing away the smaller kids.

"Hey but I'm not-!" Trevor started, but was dragged away by Lucky. You three sat down around a table. It was silent for a moment as you tried to say what was on your mind.

"Did he come see you?" Callie asked, leaning in close.

"He came and saw me everyday. Sometimes up to three times." You whispered, your hands clasped together. Callie and Gary looked at each other.

"But when he came and saw me this morning, he was different. He was super moody, and got upset when I tried to confront him about kissing me like you said for me to do. I don't know if he doesn't like confrontation or if he, yknow, might be seeing someone else." You went on, nervously biting your nails.

"Y/N, I seriously doubt that there's many women who actually like Lars, much less want to even date him." Gary said, using his left hand to talk. 'Is he right? But I'm sure women think Lars is attractive.' You thought, scrunching your eyebrows together.

"I'm pretty certain that you're like the only woman he's ever talked to in a romantic way, probably even the only woman he’s ever even talked to." Callie confirmed.

"Either way, he likes you. We all know that." Gary finished. You were really hoping he was right, otherwise you were a fool being played.

You chatted for a little while longer, mostly about anything and everything that came to mind. After a while, you told them that you were ready to head home.

"I'll drive you home." Callie said, standing up and grabbing the keys. The ride home was filled with you and Callie singing awful 80's songs, the vast majority of them by Tears for Fears. That was something that cleaned your soul and freed your mind a while. Callie helped you into your apartment before she left with a hug and a warm 'see you soon.' You were seriously hoping that your torture would end.

After a day, you got restless. So restless that you decided to go back to the lab and start working again. Yes, it was idiotically stupid. No, you weren't going to listen to anyone and take a break. Honestly it was going to happen anyways. You walked into the lab the first day, partially hoping that Lars was going to be there, but alas he wasn't. You felt disappointment but you were hopeful that you'd see him tomorrow. Except you didn't. More days past by and you hadn't seen any sign of Lars in the lab at all. You were starting to get more and more worried.

It had been more than a week and you hadn’t seen Lars since. Concern was growing and you were growing weary waiting for him to return. It was extremely hard taking care of yourself, especially since you had to trek a long ways to get yourself to your car outside of your apartment. Finally, you decided it was time to go see Lars. It pissed you off so much that you were running to him, instead of him coming to you. You knew his place, mostly because you, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lucky would sometimes prank him by doing something so absurd he would tremble with anger. That was back when you had your little schoolgirl crush on him, before you realized that you loved him.

You decided to walk, opting for the fact that he knows your car all too well. You weren’t even sure if he was there, you really didn’t even bother checking to see in your group FindMy. You didn’t even bother use your crutches because they were stupid anyways, you could walk just find even though you had a little limp. God you just wanted to fucking punch his stupidly handsome face. He made your blood boil so much.

You were only a few blocks from from his house when it started to rain. Not just a light rain, but a pour. You grew a little worried for your cast, but continued on. You were completely drenched by the time you were on his doorstep. Even worse, it was cold out. You stood on his doorstep for a minute before you started to knock on his door. You breathed out, seeing your own breath in the air. You were so cold. No one answered, which was pretty typical for Lars. He was probably standing in the kitchen, not going to open the door.

"Lars!!" You yelled, knocking on the door some more. Water dripped from your face and you shivered again. The door still didn't open. You sighed and started walking away, the pouring rain drenching you again. You started to tread back to your apartment when you heard a loud bang and turned your head. There Lars was, standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at you.

"Y/N!" Lars yelled back, meeting you in the rain. He craned his head to look down at you, his hands flying to meet your face.

"What are you doing here?" He said, his thumb swiping at your cheek.

"I came to see you. Where the fuck have you been, Lars Pinfield?!" You boomed, your right hand gripping the front of his shirt. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.

"I...I couldn't face you after that dumb shit I pulled. I wanted to apologize, really I did, but I couldn't bring myself to face you." Lars explained, his breath creating a misty cloud. All that either of you could do was stare at each other incredulously.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’ve wanted to see you all week, but your dumbass wouldn’t show up. Jesus Christ Lars, do you have any clue how much I’ve missed you? You’re so goddamn unfair you know that?!” You screamed, pounding on his chest. Lars’ hands moved from your face to your waist, holding you steady while you angrily punched him. He could only see you through his hair, which now stuck to his forehead, and his rain covered glasses which were fogging up. He was freezing, but all he could ever think about was you. How cold were you? Why would you sacrifice your time, hell, your health to come see him. He really couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would ever do that for someone. You would think with him being such a genius he would figure it out, however some people can be dense. But he realized that you were giving up all your time to invest in him. So, he decided that he needed to do the same.

"Do you think, maybe, that you'd want to spend the rest of your life, with me, maybe not just hating each other. And maybe not while hating each other, you'd like to be with me, y'know, for a long while?" Lars whispered, causing you to stop throwing punches. You looked up at him, in all his rain drenched glory. God, he looked so beautiful. You began to tremble, your hands lifting to capture his face with them. Lars breath quickened, his large hands gripping your waist. His hazy blue eyes captured yours, holding you in his everlasting gaze.

"Lars..." You murmured, swiping your thumb across his bottom lip. It was soft, softer than you thought it would've been. You found yourself daydreaming again about kissing him, though you'd never let him know how many times you've done it. You realized how close you were after you felt his breath against your cheek. You leaned in closer, pressing your chest against his. It was like something out of a movie, the way time stopped then. When your lips pressed against his, your body shuddered. It was like fireworks went off inside of you, making you all jittery and excited. Lars' hands slipped from your waist to your ass, softly gripping the flesh there. You slipped your fingers into his blond locks, tugging lightly. You heard a light groan rumble from his chest as he pressed into you further.

You weren't sure if the rain mixed with the cold had made you delirious, but after Lars had pulled away, it made him look even hotter. His tousled, wet hair, his lips that were red after the kiss, the ruby flush that adorned his cheeks and ears, and his half-lidded eyes made him even more beautiful. You found yourself feeling heat creep up through your neck to your cheeks as he stared down at you.

“Shit, right, you need to get inside, now.” Lars commanded, dragging you towards the door.

“Lars—!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as he basically picked you up. Your hands fly to grip the shirt on his back as you hoists you over his shoulder. He muttered a few things under his breath as he strolled to the door, obviously not caring that the rain was coming down harder. Lars opened the door, set you down, and shut the door with the heel of his shoe.

“Give me a second.” He commanded, leaving you standing in the foyer. You shivered and looked around, noticing some things that seemed quite out of place. Lars had multiple different band posters framed and hung up around the house, most of them signed. You could pick out a few like Pindrop, Temps, and the Timewasters. You also found multiple different movie titles like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and other things. ‘Interesting’ You thought as you took in your surroundings. Lars appeared again with a towel and some sort of clothes he had found for you to wear.

“If you fuck up my good clothes, I’m kicking your ass to the curb again.” Lars sighed, throwing the towel at you.

“Whatever, brainiac.” You bit back, trying to hold back your grin as you shoved past him. That earned a scoff and an eye roll from Lars.

“Washroom is down the right hall, second door to the left.” He called, peaking down at you as you went to change.

Lars had never had a girl in his house before. Other than the times his mother and sister had come over from Britain, obviously. His “outside” friends insisted that he bring a girl home, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to when he could only think of you. It made him a little giddy knowing that you were here with him. It was like a fever dream, if he woke up it all would be gone. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that there was a way to prove that this was real. Lars found himself wondering if you liked how his house was decorated, the clothes he brought you, even the way the house smelt. At the thought of these, he began to worry that you didn’t like it here. Those thoughts were denied when you waddled back from the bathroom, furiously rubbing at your hair to dry it. It was silly, really. Lars thought you looked a little too good in his clothes. His Temps T-shirt was too big for you, and his plaid pj pants were rolled a few times to even try and fit you.

“You look stupid in that.” Lars scoffed once more, looking anywhere but your face.

“Hey man, you picked this out. Don’t blame me for your shit style.” You tried back. A hint of a smile could be found dawning his face. You smirked and poked his cheek.

“Is that a smile I see? Is the Lars Pinfield smiling in my presence?” You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand to fake gasp.

“No, it isn’t.” He replied, the smile growing wider on his face.

“It so totally is!!! Lars Pinfield is literally smiling right in front of me!” You exclaimed. He shook his head.

“Shut up. Anyways, I’m getting changed, don’t fucking break anything.” Lars sighed, sliding past you.

“You can put on anything, just as long as it’s not some stupid BritCom.” He added, shutting the door to his room.

“Who even watches BritComs…” You muttered to yourself. Walking back into the main foyer, you sat down on the sofa, which was surprisingly nice compared to how you thought your scientist boyfriend colleague lived. You sat down and flicked through the channels, stopping on whatever stupid romcom movie was on. You sighed and put your chin in your hand, anticipating the snappy response of ‘this is the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen.’

“Hey.” You heard from above you. Looking up, you saw Lars resting his elbows on the top of the sofa next to you.

“Hi.” You peeped back. Secretly, you were gawking at him. Lars wore a pair of white sweatpants and a black shirt. You’ve never seen him in casual wear, but you were absolutely loving it right now. His glasses weren’t pushed up, loosely sitting below the bridge of his nose, and his hair was still damp. If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what was.

“What’re we watching?” He asked, glancing down at you. You shivered when his eyes locked on to yours.

“Some stupid romcom, you probably won’t like it anyways.” You answered.

“You’re right, I’ll probably think it’s super shitty, but I’ll watch it anyways.” He sighed, tipping his head towards you. You reached up and placed a kiss on his lips. Lars scrunched his eyebrows and sighed. After you pulled away, you patted the seat beside you, beckoning him to sit down. He all but scrambled to get next to you, plopping down with another big sigh.

“How’s your leg?” Lars asked once more, motioning to it with his eyes.

“It has definitely seen better days.” You replied earnestly. He nodded in sincerity, then turned his attention back to whatever you were watching. You looked over at him again before reaching over and slipping your hand into his. He didn't move, so you considered it a win. Taking matters into your hands again, you slid closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Lars' head rested on top of yours immediately and you smiled as he snuggled in closer. You could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, a citrusy, vanilla smell.

"You smell good." You muttered, looking up at him through your lashes. Lars didn't reply, but you could definitely imagine the look on his face. That little embarrassed smile with a scarlet blush dusting his cheeks. You found yourself becoming a little sleepy as you settled in. Blinking a few times, you tried to wake yourself up, but that only made you even more sleepy. Unintentionally, you started to fall asleep. As you drifted off to sleep, you could hear Lars mutter something to you, but you didn't respond.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, you had moved from the sofa, to Lars' bed. Now you only had 2 options as to how you got there. 1. You sleep walked to the bed and magically laid down, or 2. Lars had carried you there. You groaned and opened your eyes, lifting a hand to rub them. You blinked a couple times and sat up. No, Lars wasn't in here. So then, where was he? You slipped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, finding that he wasn't there either. A cup of coffee and some breakfast was left on the counter, along with a note saying,

'I'll be back later, got a couple things I need to work on at the lab. I left you some breakfast and I'm sure you can fend for yourself for lunch. Please don't burn the house down. - Lars' You smiled and picked up the coffee, finding that it was still steaming. You noticed that Lars had made the coffee the way you liked it, which meant he definitely paid attention whenever you ordered it.

After basically spending the whole day exploring Lars' house, you settled into the sofa once more with a random book you had picked out of his bookcase. Hearing keys jingle, you lifted your head from the book and saw Lars venture in. You slowly got up, minding both your head and leg, and made your way over to him.

"Hi handsome, how did work go?" You smiled at him, leaning against the doorway.

"It was...eventful. I got thrown up on by pukey." Lars sighed. You laughed and patted his shoulder.

"That was probably hilarious. I'll make dinner while you take a shower." You said, pushing him along to the bathroom.

"Mmmm, fine. But..." He started before he swooped down and kissed you. Your hand flew to his hair, giving it a nice tug. With that came a loud groan. Lars' gripped your waist and pushed you against the wall. His tongue swiped at your lips, which you gladly accepted. You snatched his glasses and tossed them away, squirming slightly as his nails dug your waist. When he pulled away he grinned,

"Looks like I'm not getting my shower in tonight."

[anamenooneowns]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖MEETING JOHN B

an: i'm enjoying these moodboard/fic type things. lemme know if you'd like more. enjoy!

DNI IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO. THIS BLOCK BUTTON GOES BRAZY

"Oh shit-" John B laughed as he narrowly missed the reached out hands of the truancy officer, jumping over the gate while the man panted, hands on his knees. "Sorry, Officer Berkley! I'll get you a doughnut and coffee tomorrow, promise!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Berkley rolled his eyes, and waved a passive-aggressive hand at John B, grunting as he put a hand on his back to ease his sciatic somewhat as he stood up. He grumbled under his breath about those 'damn kids' as he walked back to the school.

Unfortunately now, he was split up from the Pogues since three truancy officers had been chasing them through the school. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to their groupchat as he walked through the forest that separated the school from the main road.

"Shh, it's okay," a voice cooed.

John B stopped, leaning forward and looking around in confusion. "Uh, hello?" he called out. "He- fucking ow," John B sucked in a sharp breath as something small smacked against his forehead and looked up. An acorn?

There was a girl straddling the thick branch of a tree, not even looking down at him as she scooted forward, hands outstretched. "C'mere," she leaned forward, huffing.

"Hey, are you good up there? You, uh, should probably get down from the-"

"Shhh!" she looked down, eyes narrowed at him. "You're gonna scare it."

He followed where her finger was pointing to a small bundle of fur trembling at the end of the branch. He mouthed out 'oh' and even though his phone was now buzzing with texts from his friends probably asking where he was... there was a pretty girl who was in distress.

"Do you need help?" he asked, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Still scooting forward, she responded without missing a beat. "Do you know what it means when someone shushes you?"

He couldn't stop himself from grinning and pushed his tongue against his cheek, bowing his head until he heard a crack. His smile dropped along with his heart when she gasped, the branch tilting down and the kitten yowling as it curled up tighter.

He ran his hands through his hair. "Shit- just, just hold on!" he looked around for something to help get both this animal and her down. "Don't move, alright?"

But whoever this girl was, she was obviously stubborn because she lunged forward and grabbed the kitten just as the branch snapped off. She screamed, cradling the animal to her chest as she fell a few feet down... on top of him.

John B groaned, face twisted in pain as he cracked his eyes open to look into yours. "Hi," he groaned. "Name's John B... nice to meet you. I think something is broken."

You gave him a weary smile and lifted off of him, revealing the little furball you did all this for. "If it makes you feel any better-" you looked at his body- "nothing looks broken." He laughed again and you did too this time before realizing you were still on top of him. "Fuck, my bad."

You were up on your feet soon enough and John B was too, groaning a bit. He looked at the little furball in your hands and smiled, petting the kitten which pushed its tiny head into his hand. "It's cute, good thing you saved it."

"Yeah, good thing. I guess I owe you now, for breaking my fall and stuff," you laughed slightly.

John B nodded before his brows drew together. He's never seen you before on the island. "Hey, are you new around here or somethin'?"

You looked up at him through your lashes and his breath caught in his throat making him choke slightly on his saliva. The sun filtered between the gaps of the leaves, hitting your pretty brown eyes just right, leaving them honeyed in the light. Not to mention how it reflected off of your brown skin, highlighting you in a golden aura.

"I just moved here with my family. We live on Figure Eight technically, but not too far in. Above the new flower shop that opened up on Main Street," you said.

"Oh, really?" John B wiped some of the mud on his hands on leaves nearby, clearing his throat as his phone kept buzzing in his pocket. His friends were calling him now. "I'll have to swing by then, get to know a fellow Pogue."

Your brows drew inward. "The hell is a Pogue?"

He smirked. "Stick with us and you'll find out."

"Us?"

"Yeah, I can tell you're not snooty or anything like the people on Figure Eight are, so I'm officially declaring you a Pogue," he shrugged.

You smiled at him and nodded just as the bushes nearby shook, JJ stumbling out of them before straightening. "Dude, we've been looking for you, c'mon!" he yelled, jumping on John B's back.

Well, from what you could tell so far, these Pogues were more fun than the kids you've met on Figure Eight. Nicer. "Maybe another day, John B," you said before walking away. "Oh, and you also just cleaned your hands on poison ivy. Get some bentonite clay and mix it with water to make a paste and there's my favor fulfilled."

John B looked down at his hands and then the vines on the tree he just touched, cursing as JJ made a noise of disgust and pulled away from him. "Yuck, dude, did you touch me with that shit?"

But John B didn't care about his hands. He... fuck, he never got your name. "Hey, what's your na-" he exhaled when he saw you were gone. "Never mind then."

"Who was she?" JJ asked, biting the end of a toothpick.

John B glared at him. "Did you not, like- literally just hear me ask what her name was?" he said in a flat voice as JJ shrugged, the corners of his lips tilting downward, "C'mere, lemme hug you man."

JJ yelled as he ran from John B. "Don't you fuckin'- do it!"

"Lemme just get a little sugar, Jayj!"

Yeah, this was what being part of the Pogues meant.

an: i appreciate any comments and reblogs!

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c33. Liquid dinner.

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT AT THE END, LOVE YOU!!

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Like it tends to do, Lizzy McAlpine

abstract: This is a very sad chapter honestly. Close to the end also, don't get your hopes up cause I'm telling you, it's not ending well. I should know, I'm from the literal future. So yeah, messed up things. Jude's a liar man, I've always told ya. She might seem all confident, smart, sexy, funny… whatever...

'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. It was three in the afternoon, the day after her chat with Simon. She was at the listening post, they had lunch together, her, Roman and Honey after working at the code all morning. She had to reveal she had a look at it the night before, they argued for the first ten minutes asking why she got to see it before the others. 'It's because I'm privileged, let it go.' She admitted, a small smirk on her lips. 'No seriously, why didn't we know you had it, how did you get it?' Honey asked. She bit her lip, thinking of what to say to make the matter sound somewhat legal. 'You know the guy with the mask?' She said.

'Yes, unfortunately I have seen him.' Honey.

'Scary dude, what about him?' Roman.

She crossed her arms in front of her. She was wearing a comfy sweater under her very elegant blazer jacket. 'He gave it to me yesterday.' She explained. 'We worked together before, we're friends.' She said. All true, no? They're friends.

Honey mumbled something under his breath. 'That's not fair!' argued Roman, he went on some more saying how unfair it was she could see evidence before them just because she was friends with that scary soldier. They resumed their tasks, trying their best at cracking the code. It took longer than anticipated. They removed all the letters from the paper and examined the back, what would have been at the back of the newspaper page. They moved them around in the large table that once was Roman's desk, trying to make out a message. After lunch, she felt tired, she wanted and deserved a nap. Her contact lenses burned her eyes, plastic wrappers and boxes of Chinese takeout were scattered all over the place. Roman was yawning from his side of the room. That was when Honey figured it out. 'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. She approached his desk. 'I found it I think', he said. 'I divided the letters in diagonal like this…' He drew a line with his finger and parted two sections of the original code. 'And I switched them…' She helped him move the letters, until she started to see it too. Words were starting to form. They found a pattern in the setting of the letters, which resembled the choice of cutting capital letters and lowercase letters. They found some of the words were already in English, some needed translation. They were written in English letters, but were Serbian words. 'Novo…' she mumbled while setting the four letters aside. It meant 'New'. It was Roman who was sent to call Price this time. He ran through the corridors of the base, saying sorry to every person he bumped into while trying to get to Price's office.

Unfortunately for him, he found Ghost first. 'Oi!' He called out, making Roman stop in his tracks and turn around. 'You in a rush?' He asked, taking a few steps in his direction. The young linguist looked up at Ghost, his eyes piercing through his soul through the skull plate mask. He mumbled something about the listening post, which clearly interested Ghost in the conversation. Listening post meant Alba. 'We need Price, we figured it out. The code, you know...' He was able to breathe out while regaining his composure. 'She with you?' The other man asked, before starting to walk towards Price's office. 'What…' Roman struggled to follow Ghost's fast walking pace, 'Oh Jude? Yeah, why?' He was given no answer. They both urged Price to follow them and, once in the listening post room, they found Honey and Alba at the desk, hunched over looking at the characters scattered around.

'It makes total fucking sense!' Alba shouted at the door, before awkwardly covering her mouth with her hands, realising Price and Simon were there. Roman let out a loud laugh, joining his two colleagues, even Honey seemed happy and joyful more than Simon ever saw him. He watched Alba smile at her friends, moving one more letter on the table, writing the message on paper. 'S… T, E and R…' Honey whispered. Once they were done, Price and Ghost were allowed to look at it and read it. Alba's eyes encountered Ghost's. Just for a second. She was happy, she was proud. She was gorgeous, he liked how the blazer jacket fell gently on her hips, he liked the strands of hair that were covering the sides of her cheeks, rosy cheeks. He liked the fuzzy sweater she was wearing, a warm beige sweater. He could touch it, feeling the softness.

The message made, indeed, total fucking sense. It said Novo Groblje, which meant new cemetery, it said 'twenty one, one, two two three', which they supposed meant 21st of January of that year. Novo Groblje was a cemetery complex in Belgrade. She stood by the table while Price and Simon examined their work. She patiently waited for them to read the message and ensure they were satisfied with what they saw. It was Simon's look that gave it away. His eyes, his gaze immediately rose to meet hers, he looked at her with dilated pupils, his kind, chocolate brown eyes. He was amused. Price told them they did a good job and to keep up with the listening post for a few more days, just in case they needed any more information about the trafficking, but other than that, they were done.

She went out that night. She put on a dress for the first time in ages. There weren't many bars open too late, Honey suggested drinks to celebrate, Roman said yes, Gaz overheard and took it as the best opportunity to ask her to go out with them. She said yes, she went home and went on a run with Jinx. She was so happy she could't even manage to sit still. She was ecstatic, she had a drink before going out, she had gin hidden somewhere in her kitchen. She wore a dress, just below the knee, it was cold out. It was tight around the waist but fell gently on her hips. Black lace adorned her ribcage, a pattern that looked like flowers on the skin of her breasts. She curled her hair, she put on earrings that looked like pearly rain drops. She wore heels, and got a cab, she didn't want to drive. She intentionally arrived twenty minutes late, she found Roman and Honey at a table in the corner, they were drinking beer. Kyle and Soap were at the counter speaking to a man she didn't know. Kyle whistled when he saw her walking in. 'Look who finally decided to stop working…' He gave her a quick side hug, which she reciprocated, then said hi to Soap. 'What are you drinking?' She let Kyle buy her a beer, she didn't bother choosing, whatever he was having was fine. She noticed his eyes travelling on her figure as she leaned on the counter, she allowed it. They sat for an hour at the table with her two other colleagues, she dragged the soldiers towards Honey and Roman so they could be all together. The conversation was simple and easy, anecdotes and funny stories. She was hiding a yawn with her hand and debating on going home when Johnny gasped. 'Look who showed up…' He whispered, causing her to turn around in the booth, looking towards the entrance of the bar. At eleven in the evening on a Saturday, Simon Riley made his way inside the bar, a crowded bar even. Black mask, leather jacket and, something she had never seen before on him, sneakers. He looked in their direction, a nod of the head to signal that he saw them. He approached the counter to order a drink. Alba got up a minute after, trying not to make it seem too obvious. She said she was gonna get another beer, she asked the boys to watch her purse.

Her heart started beating at a much quicker pace upon seeing him. Did the others invite him, was he there by himself? Maybe he didn't want to be bothered. Was he there to see his friends? She approached him, walked behind him and stood at his right. He turned towards her, his eyes not even reaching her face, slowly making their way up from her naked calves to her chest. 'I wasn't expecting you to come', she crossed her arms in front of her chest, forcing him to look her in the eyes. 'I can leave if you don't want me here.' He replied, to that she smiled. 'Can I buy you a drink?' She offered, making his heart skip a beat. 'To thank you for stealing classified evidence for me.' She said. He allowed himself to stare at her for a few more seconds before replying. Her hair was wavy, falling gently on her shoulders, her makeup shiny on her eyelids. She had some kind of eyeliner on that made the emerald green colour of her pupils stand out. Her cheeks were warm from the alcohol. 'How many have you had?' He asked. He realised he was flirting without even trying, he felt like he was giving in this kind of sin. She was the sin. He felt like the setting, the bar, the fact they were surrounded by strangers, dressed differently from their day to day… It made him feel like he could speak to her that way. 'Just one!' She sat on the stool behind her, reaching his eye level. 'Do I look drunk?' He smiled and shook his head. While he ordered their drinks, she gave their friend's table a look, finding Soap and Kyle staring. 'You guys celebrating?' She concentrated back on Simon. 'I told you Honey would figure it out.' She replied. He didn't have a balaclava on, he had a black surgical mask and the hat she gifted him for Christmas. He partly took off the mask, letting it hang on his right ear, so that his uncovered side faced the wall. She watched him take a sip of his drink.

'They know you're Alba' He said. She nearly choked on her beer.

'I told them you're Alba… by accident.' He corrected himself, like he needed to get that off his chest. She went pale under the lights of the bar.

'What…'

'I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking and I let it slip. Johnny and Gaz...' He looked at her, suddenly apologetic, like a lost puppy. She swallowed a lump in her throat, her blood rushing to her ears. What a way to ruin the night. 'It's fine.' She managed to mumble.

She was still recovering from that information when he spoke again. 'How are… hum.. how are rehearsals going?' He tried to change the subject to make her forget about his terrible revelation. She looked at him appalled, her eyes wide. 'Uhm… good.' She replied awkwardly. He was terrified his attempt to change the subject didn't work. His expression made her giggle, that awful silence between them made her facade crumble. 'Sorry, I'm gonna have to stop speaking to you, you're terrible at keeping secrets', she commented. He seemed to relax, his shoulders less tense. He was really afraid he'd upset her for a moment.

'That's not true…'

'Ah, you told everyone my one secret...' She was smiling at this point, dimples forming in her cheeks. Her left canine teeth was chipped. He drank some more. 'So… rehearsals?' He asked again. Her chest tightened, he really wanted to know? 'It's been hard, there's this one lift which is pretty intense with my dance partner', she fidgeted with a napkin on the wooden counter… 'But the hard part is Snow Queen really, there are 16 fuettés at the end of my first entrance which I can't seem to get right, cause I jump a lot during that part and I get tired, I don't think my left foot is strong enough for those many turns, you know, 16 fuettés is kind of a lot…' she rambled, maybe talking more to herself than to him at this point. But he was there, and you best believe he was listening. 'And then I can kinda relax in the second entrance, but still I got very embarrassed the other day cause I could only get five or six before getting dizzy…' she seemed to suddenly realise he was there. She covered her mouth with her hand, almost self conscious she might have said too much.

'What is a fuetté….' asked Simon.

She smiled, she giggled. 'Sorry… it's a turn on pointe, you turn and then you open your leg to spin again, and again…'

'16 times?'

'16 times, yes.'

'Sounds like a lot. Can't you do less?'

Her smile grew bigger, she felt giddy talking about her dance routine with him. 'That's the choreography…' He nodded. 'Are you getting deployed to Serbia?' She asked, her tone soft, he almost didn't ear her over the music and the noise of chatter in the bar. He shook his head. He explained they had soldiers there already and him and his task force were getting ready for another mission, they were going to get briefed the day after. 'Maybe they'll call you for this one as well… help us out.'

'You finally admit I was helpful then', her pure, proud, cheeky expression made him smile a bit.

'I never said you didn't help us numerous times.'

'What's the mission?' She asked. He said he didn't know yet. They heard a whistle coming from the table where their colleagues were sitting. It was Kyle urging them to go sit with them.

'I made it pretty obvious I left them there to come talk to you…'

He felt like the people around them disappeared, the noise, the smell of booze. She sat beside him or rather in front of him, her heels propped up on the stool, her lacy dress flowing, she looked like a lily, the flower. It could not be real, he couldn't even remember the last time he felt like that, drawn to someone, wanting to get close, touch her arm, feel her skin against his own. And be touched, and be hugged by her, he wanted her attention, he wanted her to look at him, acknowledge him at all times, he was special to her and he deserved her special treatment. He got chosen, over all the others, she just said it, there it was on paper. He didn't imagine it. 'You wanted to talk to me?' He asked, a breath. She leaned into the counter, she heard him cause she was closer. She nodded. 'Why?' He asked.

She smiled. Without putting on a show, she let her hand travel on the counter, until the tip or her pointy acrylic nail poked his finger, wrapped around the beer glass. 'Is it so strange that I want to?' It's not? Did she see past it? The mask, his appearance, the scars, the trauma, his attitude? Or was he never really Ghost when he was around her? Of course he was, she was just so strong and clever to just… see Simon as well. 'I'm not really…', he tried. He didn't push away her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. Her hands were cold.

'I don't really do this? I don't know when was the last time I actually… you know…', he didn't need to finish, she nodded. She didn't look pitiful. 'Do you want me to tell you why?' She murmured. He didn't really think she had a reason. When he nodded, she started to speak. She looked down at their hands, her fingers brushing his, not really holding his hand, rather exploring the patterns in his skin, tracing them with her nails. 'I think you're kind. You've always been nice to me, considerate. I can tell you care. You know, after last year and Arash and all…' she stopped to take a deep breath, '...it felt nice to have you.' He felt faint. She wasn't done. 'At Christmas and New Years…I think we're different and there are many things you experienced I can't comprehend and stuff about me that you wouldn't get, but… I don't know, I like spending time with you. And speaking to you.' She looked at him with the end of the sentence. His mouth was dry, he felt a strange ringing in his ear. He debated getting out of there, it all sounded absurd, it sure didn't apply to him. She spoke again. 'Was it too much?' She asked.

He was quick to shake his head, but words were just not coming out of his mouth. She let go of his hand, taking a sip and finishing her half pint. He imitated her. 'I guess…', he began, terrified waiting too long to reply would make her think he didn't somehow feel the same. 'I don't know, would you want to… I…' he stuttered and stopped, like he was checking his surroundings, like he was bracing for impact, '…would you like to go out maybe, to eat…' She had this adorable upside down smile on her face, her eyes glistening. 'Yes, sure.' She said.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, to ensure she wasn't gonna spontaneously combust after saying yes to that date. A date. She looked even more heavenly now, like he saw her under a different light. A date. He heard Gaz's voice behind him, probably coming towards the bar to ruin the moment. There were two women dancing to the music and laughing loudly. He heard the noise fo glass shattering on the floor, as someone dropped his drink. He watched her fix a strand of hair behind her ear, he thought he didn't really care at this point. She was his date.

'Want another beer?'

notes: so so late at night for my standards, apologies if you see any mistakes!! happy chapter, I feel full of love after writing this, too bad I'm gonna start writing the last chapter soon... as I promised hell, hell I will deliver. I feel like now is a good time to announce the follow up series to professional help, THE NIGHT OF THE TARANTULA, which will be posted in the next few months, featuring alba, simon and many others!! can you guess what I will be about?

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[theladyofbloodshed]

Hunt x Nesta - Chapter 4

Nesta’s brain developed its own pulse. With every intake of breath, her head throbbed. Eventually, she forced open her heavy eyes and the whole room span on its axis. She didn’t recognise her surroundings. It wasn’t Prythian but it definitely wasn’t the hotel room she’d spent the last couple of nights in either. It was easily as bare though, perhaps even worse. The plain cream walls held nothing. No photos, no art, no television. There was no microwave or kettle stuffed onto the desk. There wasn’t even a desk. Just a bed, a small wardrobe and a chair that was occupied by a sleeping angel. Hunt had pulled it near the bed so that his legs could lounge across the bottom. He slumped in it, spreading his wings over the arms. He looked naked but then Nesta spotted the dark colour of his underwear. She’d forgive him for it, owing to the soaring temperature that the waning summer brought. Even the cracked open window did little to cool the room.

Nesta had no memory of coming home from the White Raven but there was the odd flash of Hunt crossing the dance floor if she strained her memory. She dreaded to think what she’d done in her drunken state. He was likely pissed off with her for drinking.

Nesta pulled herself into a sitting position to ready herself for his ire when he woke. The motion did wake him. Hunt merely yawned loudly and slumped deeper into the chair. ‘How’s your head, sleeping beauty?’

‘It has its own pulse.’

Hunt gave her a sleepy grin and Nesta waited for the comments that she deserved it or was pathetic for letting herself get into that state.

He pulled on loose fitting bottoms from the wardrobe then strode from the room. When Hunt returned, it was with a glass of water and two white tablets. ‘This will help, but we can also go to a medwitch. I want you hangover-free for the sunball game.’

‘Too many words,’ Nesta groaned, pulling a pillow over her head.

Hunt tugged it away then held out the pills. ‘Just painkillers.’

She forced them down then tried to get out of bed, realised she was in her underwear, and crawled back beneath the sheet.

‘Did you undress me?’

Hunt threw up his hands to protest his innocence. ‘No. You did that yourself.’

Wearing his clothes again, Nesta stuck close to Hunt as he walked her to the elevator to seek out the medwitch. He’d pulled a grey hoody over her head, tied her hair into a loose ponytail then slipped a cap over it. She felt like death incarnate. Her drinking in Velaris had never made her feel this awful.

After the medwitch had seen to her - and given a laugh at her alcohol induced state - Hunt tucked her back into his bed while he made a dash to her hotel room for her. He was an angel by name and nature.

Once Nesta had showered and felt somewhat alive – the medwitch’s magic sifting through her hangover - Hunt returned, brandishing pastries, orange juice, and fresh clothes along with a toothbrush.

‘This is your room?’ she asked him.

He gave a sweep of the room then nodded, slightly abashed. There was nothing here. No memories of a life lived. Nothing to call his own. It was the life of a slave.

‘Thank you for bringing me here. For keeping me out of harm last night.’

To not waste any more of his time, Nesta dressed in a hurry and drew her hair back into a ponytail again. Hunt slipped the cap back onto her head.

‘You should keep that on,’ he said, jerking his chin in its direction. He cleared his throat in a hurry. ‘Not because you look hungover. You look beautiful in it, actually. But for the sunball game. We’ll be cheering on CCU.’

‘Hunt, I don’t know how much I can blame on alcohol, but I have no idea what sunball or CCU is.’

***

That steady, unflinching female that he’d met had shifted into a bag of nerves. The medwitch’s magic was efficient enough to have already undone the White Raven’s damage, so it couldn’t be her hangover. Nesta perched on the edge of the bed picking at her croissant like a bird in between gnawing at her fingernails. Although Hunt didn’t know her well enough, this wasn’t her usual behaviour. Even in the interrogation room, Nesta had been calm on the surface.

‘You alright?’

She tore off a piece from his pastry. ‘I’m so sorry for last night. If I did anything – said anything - embarrassing. I shouldn’t have drunk. I know I shouldn’t. We just had a good time then-’

‘Nesta,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s fine. You were fine. Everybody has a little bit too much sometimes. I’m just glad that you had fun with the fae.’

A hiss of air escaped her. ‘I didn’t do anything embarrassing?’

‘No.’

Was that what she worried about? Did Nesta think he’d lock her up like her family did?

‘You called me Orion,’ he admitted.

‘Sorry.’

‘I liked it.’ He nudged her with his foot. ‘Eat up. There’s chocolate in the middle.’

There was more vigour to her movements, but still Nesta was holding back. She glanced to him, silver eyes scanning his face. ‘Hunt, when I was at the library yesterday, I researched your name.’

‘I know. You told me. It’s alright.’

‘You aren’t mad with me?’

He shrugged one shoulder. He wished she still didn’t know. Hoped it wouldn’t change what she thought of him. Most saw him for his powers and nothing more. Many couldn’t look past the figurative chains. 

‘You were curious. It’s a brand new world for you. It’s fine, Nesta.’

To emphasise his point, Hunt tore into his croissant which sprayed crumbs across the floorboards. He gave an encouraging nod then Nesta finally started eating properly

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Go for it,’ he said then swigged at the juice.

Nesta tilted her head, reminding him of a predatory animal. ‘How long will you be a slave for? Is it all of your life?’

‘Yeah. No. Sort of,’ said Hunt. It was a vague answer, he knew, but he wasn’t about to get into the debts he owed to Micah – and the things he did to wipe that tally. ‘Slaves can be freed.’

There was a cold, dead look in Nesta’s eyes. ‘But you won’t be?’

Hunt didn’t answer, just cleaned up the crumbs from breakfast and tossed the paper bag in the bin.

‘You’re too valuable, aren’t you? They won’t let you have your freedom because then they can’t control you.’

Hunt held out his hand for Nesta. ‘We’ll take a bus and I’ll let you press the bell. I’ll explain sunball on the way.’

***

Sunball was loud.

Rows and rows of seats were filled with chanting crowds. The bulk were from CCU – an establishment where young people went to study. Hunt had explained universities on the bus ride and Nesta had bombarded him with questions on entry requirements, what could be studied, and who could attend. He promised to find out if there was an open day so she could look around. The bus ride had felt loud enough with many rowdy students packing on and somebody beat her to pressing the bell for the vehicle to stop. When they reached the stadium, the noise was nearly overwhelming. Many had brought instruments so drums and trumpets rang out in the air amongst the chants.

Sunball, she had figured out, was a game.

Hunt, bless his heart, did his best to shout in her ear and explain the rules, but the noise was proving too much. Instead, Nesta clapped when the crowd around them leapt to their feet and roared their delight.

The players took it in turns to hit a ball and run around a circle. She couldn’t understand the sycophantic excitement, but nobody was harmed as a result. Most people were having a good time. Colourful paint was smeared on faces, gigantic fingers were stuck on their hands, and most wore the colours of the university. Even Hunt looked totally at ease with a cold drink – a beer, he called it – in his hand while his other arm was slung around the back of her chair. He wore the same cap as her but a newer one where the colours were less faded – and he wore it back to front. On his cell phone, he took a picture of them with their heads tilted together then Nesta made him take more, ones with the arms wrapped around the others neck or fighting for the most room on the screen.

‘Well, I have no idea who won and my throat hurts, but I had fun,’ she said as they followed the masses down the steps towards the exit.

‘I don’t know how you’ve drank so much soda without your teeth falling out.’ Hunt slipped his hand down her back as they walked. ‘Want to beat the crowds?’

Nesta tucked an arm around his neck then Hunt was lifting them both into the air.

It was strange really how easy it was to be in his company. The closeness as they flew didn’t have Nesta sliding her defences into place to protect herself. In an odd, new world, Hunt had been an open book who was more welcoming, more selfless than the fae who’d welcomed her to Prythian. As they flew, Nesta found herself examining Hunt’s face. It was attractive in a rugged way. He’d let stubble grow through – looking better for that – and he found smiling easy despite the life he had. Nesta struggled to find peace with the fact that he hadn’t been angry with her for last night. Hadn’t called her pathetic or berated her for getting into that state. No, this angel had ensured she was put to bed safely, helped her in the morning, then swept it all away like it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t matter. Nesta hadn’t hurt anybody. She’d had a brilliant time dancing and laughing. She had just been Nesta. Not a cauldron-cursed bitch, not somebody with a target on her back by a vengeful mortal queen, not the Night Court’s weapon. Just Nesta.

Hunt set them down in a quiet alley. ‘You’ve got a funny look on your face. I’ve not made you queasy, have I?’

He touched her forehead, checking her temperature.

‘No,’ she replied, smiling softly up at him. ‘I’m very lucky that I fell in front of you and not another angel.’

There was an emotion on Hunt’s face that she couldn’t read then he shook it away and slung his arm around her shoulders. When Cassian did those sort of motions to her, Nesta felt like his possession – as if he was brandishing her to the world as something that belonged to him. It was entirely different here. The people were more tactile, friendlier, embracing each other or declaring their love easily; Sathia had said she’d loved Nesta many times while they were out. Hunt’s arm around her was a comfort as they walked together. 

‘What do you say to me showing you the true highlight of Crescent City?’

Her mind conjured a grand building or an epic scene carved by nature. She nodded, letting Hunt lead the way.

They hardly went far – just crossed over the road then took a left down another.

‘Behold,’ he said in a voice barely more than an awe-struck whisper. ‘Ten pin bowling.’

Their shoes were exchanged for bulky things that were sprayed by a metal canister. Everything glowed neon. The floor was sticky. Children of all species raced around, not caring if they cut across their path. Music blasted from speakers.

‘And what is this?’

Hunt blew out a breath. ‘A place where I’m going to kick your ass.’

On a device, Hunt typed their names then they came up on the screen: Orion and Stargirl.

‘You have ten pins. You take a ball and half-roll-half-throw it down the aisle, alright? The aim is to knock them all down. We each have two tries then swap over.’

‘Well, that’s easy,’ she said.

Hunt held up a finger, shaking his head. ‘You can’t go beyond that line. And it can fall in the gutter.’

‘It’s a sport.’

Hunt selected a ball first – a bright green one – and stepped towards the line. ‘Winner gets… a favour.’

Nesta blinked at him with her hands perched on her hips. ‘Do I look like somebody who plays sports?’

‘Nice sunball hat,’ he grinned. ‘You had me fooled.’

The angel moved towards the line, increasing in speed as his arm swung the ball backwards. He released it as it surged forwards. An ear-splitting crash sounded, sending pins flying. One remained standing.

She caught a glimpse of irritation on his usually calm face.

‘That wounded you, didn’t it? That they didn’t all fall?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, making a snoring sound. ‘I’m going easy on you for your first game.’

Hunt took his second turn and the ball missed its mark.

She couldn’t help but grin in delight as his wings slumped. Carefully, she selected her own ball and measured the weight in her hands. ‘You mustn’t want to win that favour too badly, Orion.’

‘Do you need the bumpers up, princess?’

On her way past him, Nesta knocked him with her hip. Hunt had turned his cap around so the brim pointed backwards.

‘I am winning this favour, Orion Athalar.’

***

It was just pretend.

Hunt could put his miserable existence on hold for a week to indulge in the fantasy that was Nesta Archeron. She was a gift from the stars; one who had a home to return to. But it was all a fantasy. Once her Harp was back in her hands, Nesta would return to Prythian and Hunt would continue chipping away at his debt to Micah.

Still, for these few days, he could pretend.

He put his arm around Nesta’s shoulders again as they walked – and this time her fingers wove within his. Hunt rested his head against hers. ‘Oh, what favour am I going to claim?’

‘You cheated.’

‘Nesta, you not winning doesn’t mean I cheated.’

‘It was my first game,’ she protested.

‘Oh the excuses are coming out now, starlight.’

They’d eaten crap for days, but Nesta had developed an obsession for anything fried or sugary and he was helpless but to indulge her. She did make him laugh when she pulled out a credit card and claimed it was a gift from Lord Tristan Flynn. His family was so wealthy that they likely wouldn’t notice the amount of money that Nesta spent on waffles loaded with ice cream and chocolate chips.

It was easy to be with Nesta.

When they had finished eating on her bed with another romance film on, both of them gravitated towards the plumped-up pillows. Her hand rested on her stomach that was filled with sugar again. Hunt wasn’t quite sure how she coped in Prythian without it.  

 ‘Why are these people dressed like I dress?’

Hunt couldn’t help but let his fingers stroke her loose strands of hair as he said, ‘It’s called a period film. Back when females wouldn’t show their ankles and had to be courted for a kiss.’

‘That’s how I live now, Hunt.’

‘No waffles, no bowling, no ankles. What’s the point?’

She gave him a light-hearted swipe with a pillow then positioned it on his chest where she got comfortable. Hunt played it as cool as he could – even if his heart was racing at a mile a minute. There had been brief dalliances with a few females since he’d been purchased by Micah but nothing more than a quick release for him or bragging rights for the female who’d bedded him. Hunt hadn’t done this before. Hadn’t had a friend and cuddled up beside her. Hadn’t simply spent time in each other’s company, completely comfortable. Not since… Fuck, he’d never done anything like this with Shahar. From what Nesta had told him, this wasn’t the sort of thing she did either.

They were both in a pretend world.

And Hunt never wanted to leave it.

Nesta’s head snapped up to look at him. Her silvery eyes softened then she raised up on an elbow towards him.

His fingers skated along her jaw as he pressed his lips against Nesta’s. The taste of sugar was on her tongue.

Her hand splayed out on his chest, holding her balance as they kissed.

Luna, he wanted to kiss her for an eternity.

But she had a mate, most likely. A life to return to with a sister who ruled a court. Hell, she was practically fae royalty. And he was the Umbra Mortis – a slave with a ledger filled with red.  

***

Hunt pulled away abruptly then slipped out from beneath her where Nesta had pinned him. His grey wings were pressed into the wall.

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

Hunt swept his hand through his sable hair then paced as far as the cramped room would allow.

The rejection stung Nesta. Her tongue stuck to her dry throat as she tried to swallow.

‘You’ve landed here with nobody. And I’m supposed to help you, not stick my tongue down your throat,’ he said, voice teetering on disbelief. ‘I’m sorry.’

She felt her brows creasing together. ‘Why are you sorry?’

‘I am slave – that is all I am. You saw my room. I have nothing. I can give you nothing. You’re here for a few days. I shouldn’t be so attached.’ Hunt dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘You’re all I can think about.’

Nesta went to him as if summoned by his voice. She couldn’t take the anguish on his face. Her fingers slid down his arm to rest on his wrist where the slave brand was.

‘This is not all you are, Orion.’ Her thumb stroked against the ink, wishing she could remove it and give him a life he deserved. ‘We are the same. I have nothing. I am trapped in a home that I cannot leave unless I can be used. There is nothing I call my own. My choices were taken. I don’t care, Hunt. I don’t care about this,’ she said, touching the brand again. ‘I don’t care.’

The apple of his throat bobbed.  

‘You have a male waiting for you,’ he reminded her.

A male who trapped her then ground her down until she relented. One she couldn’t escape from. One who’d followed her since they’d met. One who never understood when Nesta needed space.

‘I don’t care,’ she whispered.

Her hands slid to his cheeks, drawing him to her.

‘Kiss me again.’

There was more certainty to his kiss. Lips crushed to hers then Hunt’s hands were on her body, lifting her in the air, lifting her to him. Nesta wrapped her legs around his hips, letting him support her with one hand while another hand released her hair from its tie.

From the bed, Hunt’s cell phone lit up and blared an irritating jingle as somebody called.

Micah.

His eyes slid to the cell then he came over pale.

Gently, he set Nesta on the floor then took the phone with him to the bathroom. She waited, heart beating loudly, for him to return. When Hunt exited, his skin was ashen. Any amusement or desire had been extinguished.

In a cold, flat voice, he said, ‘I have to go.’

‘Hunt?’

‘Please,’ he choked out. ‘Just let me go. I have to go.’

@impossibelle

[randomfandomlov3]

Butterfly Kisses

Mob!Bucky x Fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, angst, swearing, mentions of parental deaths, mentions of torture, fluff, no Y/N use, Mob, Fear of thunderstorms mentioned. Let me know if I missed any.

Notes: This was my first attempt at a mob universe. Thank you so much for reading! <3 I ended this in a kind of weird spot, but I have no inspiration for what to do next so if you want more or have any ideas I would love to hear them.

Word Count ~ 7,783

She knew she had a bad feeling about going out today. Why didn't she trust her gut? Oh right, she has anxiety most of the time, that's why. That storm was not what she had planned for when she went out today, even if she had no choice, needing to go to her appointment. She took a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She glanced up at the ruggedly handsome stranger who just got on the bus.

"I don't mind," she whispered, making sure she was as close to the window as she could get. He sat next to her, careful not to press up against her.

He was used to hearing people's heart rates Increase in his presence, but the way her arms were wrapped around her body before he had even spoken to her, told him that something else was bothering her. That was confirmed when a loud crack of thunder happened and thinking it was her arm, she dug her nails into the skin. He felt the sting as the skin of his arm broke under one of her nails, the only people he had ever seen this terrified were those who were receiving fate from his hands. This pain however was nothing compared to what he has experienced previously.

She then looked down, and her mouth dropped, she just drew blood from the stranger who decided to sit beside her. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I can't believe I did that. I should have a bandage in here somewhere." She started to dig through her bag.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't even hurt."

She pulled out the only band-aid she could find, a cutesy kid's one with butterflies. "I don't want it to get infected, not that I am dirty, but you know." Carefully dabbing it with a Kleenex before sticking the bandage to his arm gently. No one had ever cared for him like this, even when his doctor bandaged his wounds. Reaching the final stop for this bus they both got off. She headed straight towards her destination horrified by what she had just done to the poor stranger, he on the other hand stared at her for a minute before unrolling his sleeves.

After her appointment with the doctor, she exited the building staring at her phone to check bus times. Not paying attention to where she was walking, she ran face first into a wall of muscle, that when she went to fall, caught her. Of course, it had to be him.

“I am once again so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, because I wanted to make sure that my bus wouldn’t leave before I got there.” She rambled out, while he stared at her with an amused look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, but this…” he gestured between them. “Might have made you miss your bus, but how about I give you a ride, it’s the least I could do for a beauty like you.” She shook her head in protest.

“It’s fine, I will just wait to catch the next one, but thank you for your offer.” She blushed at his compliment.

“Fine, at least let me give you my phone number in case you ever need anything, and I mean anything butterfly.” He pulled her phone out of her hand to enter his contact and double-check that this beauty wasn’t already taken. When she got her phone back, he gave her a wink and went on his way.

‘Dragonfly’ and underneath in the details he had written, “Bucky Barnes, but I’ll be your dragonfly if you’ll be my butterfly.” Her heart picked up again, but this time for something pleasant. She knew that the chances of seeing him again, though, were rather low. Luckily, the bus had been running late and she had managed to catch it, but there must have been something scary on the way, based on the fear on the driver’s face. The whole ride home she thought about the handsome stranger whom she assaulted twice and still had given her his number.

She tried to use the thoughts of him to block out the sounds of thunder outside the window. As she walked through the rain from the bus stop, she thought she saw someone watching her. Probably just paranoid, it was not likely that anyone would be watching her, she was nothing special. She went into her apartment and tried to forget about her anxieties of the day and relax.

He didn’t usually come to this part of town as both leaders know it is off limits, as it is where the daycares are. Children didn’t need to be a part of this life when they couldn’t even care for themselves. However he wanted to make sure that she was safe because he had not seen her in any of the businesses on his side before, he definitely would have remembered her. He did feel a little bit like a creep when he caught himself watching her play with the children in the yard of one of the daycares.

“I thought we had agreed this area was off-limits to both of us. Are you so greedy that you are willing to put these innocent children in danger?” Tony Stark the other leader in the city, quipped. Neither of them liked to share, but they knew at least right now that was what was best for everyone, and it was a big enough city that the only time they had to see each other was at their set-up meetings. “One of my men told me that this isn’t your first time in this area recently. I won’t let you claim it as your own. Or is it that there is something here that has caught your eye?” He pondered when he saw Bucky staring.

“Boss, what are we doing here? You have never shown interest in this area, for the safety of the next generation,” Sam whispered in Bucky’s ear, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing, I just came to check for some things that aren’t sold anywhere on my side.” Bucky brushed the weird looks from his competitor off and headed towards the store. Inside he found exactly what he was looking for.

“Buck? Why are you getting a box of butterfly patterned band-aids?” Steve asked chuckling at the childish look of the box that his friend and boss was holding. The look that Bucky gave him wiped that off his face. He had never seen a look quite like this in the many years that he had known Bucky.

He couldn’t explain why, but having one on him, comforted him in ways that he had never felt before. They felt like how he imagined butterfly kisses would feel. It felt like he had found a missing part of himself, but why would someone like her ever choose someone like him? The only reason he could think of was out of fear, but he didn’t want that, if she didn’t want to be his or a part of his life, he would not scare her into it.

Then his phone rang.

On the way home from her shift at the daycare she was exhausted, but that uneasy feeling she had been experiencing the past few days was even more intense today. She knew that there were two main mobs within the city, but she had never encountered either, thankfully, and she learned from her current boss that they don’t control the middle for the safety of the children at the daycares. The feeling of being watched only got stronger the closer she got to home. Before she entered the apartment building, she looked up and saw a silhouette from within her apartment, but no one else has a key to her apartment, apart from the building manager who is a little old lady, and the silhouette was definitely too big to be her. Her first instinct was to duck into the nearby shop and call someone. But who? She just recently moved here, so her friends all lived hours away, and she didn’t have any family left. The kind stranger’s words rung through her mind, “I mean anything, Butterfly.”

She went into the bathroom, pulled out her phone and dialed the one person who might be able to help her. Her hands trembled in fear that he wasn’t serious.

“Hello, who is this?” His voice cut through the phone roughly.

“Mr. Barnes…” she tried to steady her voice to get the words out, but fear kept them tight in her throat.

“Butterfly? Is that you? Are you okay?” He had a surprised and panicked tone to his voice.

“Yeah, it’s me. Umm… I didn’t know who else to call. There is someone in my apartment, and I am scared to go in. I am currently in the store next door. I’m sorry, you are probably busy, I should have just called the police,” she rambled out, when she heard him curse on the other end.

“Butterfly, do not apologize, give me the address I will be right there.” He tried to hide the anger in his tone. She gave him the address of her apartment building and the name of the store she was hiding in.

“Where are you going Boss? Should we come too?” Sam and Steve watched as he climbed on his motorcycle.

“Follow in a car just in case you are needed.” His tone is harsh, so they know something serious is going on.

She browsed the shelves of the convenience store trying to calm her racing mind when the front doors opened and in walked Bucky. Her mind started to race at the look on his face. “I’m sorry, I disturbed you with something like this. I just really didn’t know who else to call.” She stared at her feet not wanting to look into his eyes.

His gloved hands held her cheeks so that she would look at him. “You do not need to apologize. I was serious when I said to call me for anything. You, butterfly, could never be a disruption to my day.” Her cheeks burned under his touch, and she nodded like he wanted. “Now, can we go check out your apartment together?" He saw her whole body tense. “Don’t worry, I will keep you safe.”

“Okay.” She exhaled and walked outside looking over her shoulder to make sure he is still with her. Taking a deep breath she got into the elevator and pressed her floor.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked trying to make small talk and calm her down a little.

“I hit the 3 month mark a few days ago.” She answered with a sigh. The elevator dinged open and one of the doors just down the hallway looked smashed in.

Bucky pulled out his phone and shot a text to his boys. He kept her distracted long enough that Sam and Steve could join them. “These are my friends, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rogers. They are going to help just in case the intruder is still in there.” She nodded, shaking each of their hands and introducing herself. Bucky leaned down to her ear, “Oh, so that’s the butterfly’s name.” She blushed at the feeling of his breath on her face. Steve and Sam led the way with Bucky keeping his eyes around her to make sure there was no one else lurking.

“It’s a mess, but the coast is clear. No one is inside. But I don’t think it is a safe idea for her to stay here for a little while.” Steve turned to her. “Do you have somewhere else you can stay?” She shook her head, about to say that she would just stay in a hotel.

“She will stay at my place. I have more than enough rooms, and she will be safe there. Butterfly go pack a bag and make sure you bring anything important, just in case someone tries this again.” Bucky said with determination, surprising everyone else. She gave a small nod before heading into her destroyed apartment.

“Boss, do you really think that it is smart for her to stay at the house, what if she gets snoopy?” Steve asked concerned about what his friend is thinking.

“If you can tell me somewhere she would be safer I’ll listen, but I know what I am doing.” Bucky entered her apartment to look at the extent of the damage caused. “This doesn’t look like how Tony’s men would do a job, but they must have been in a hurry.”

“Do you know why he would target her, especially when she lives within the neutral zone?” Sam questioned keeping guard at the door.

“She was at the daycare when we were talking. I think he caught me looking at her.” Bucky stated going to find where she was. She was standing at the entrance of her bedroom which had been absolutely destroyed, with a horrified look on her face. She slowly walked over to what used to be a crystal butterfly, she cradled the pieces in her hands and cried. “Butterfly, I can get you a new one of those, I promise it will be okay.” She aggressively shook her head.

“No, you can’t. No one can, well except my parents who are both dead now. This was what I had left of them.” Bucky’s heart broke as his girl sobbed her heart out in front of him. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. For once in his life he was at a loss for words. She put the pieces into a small bag inside her bag. Then she got up and continued to try to pack. Grabbing a stuffed bear in a suit, she turned to Bucky, “I guess I was also given this by them when I was born, but that crystal has always had a deeper meaning.” Her bag is bursting by the time she is done.

“Was anything important missing?” Sam asked her carefully, but she just shook her head. The men led her out, Sam took her bag, and Steve stayed to deal with the police since he had the best luck with them.

Bucky led her over to his motorcycle and put the helmet on her head. “Safety first. Make sure to hold on tight.” She held on to him as tight as she could, making Bucky smirk. He didn’t like that she might have been afraid, but he did like that she found him comforting.

“Woah, is this where you live?” She expressed her impressment of the large home. She had seen one like this before when she was young, but even now they were impressive. He smiled at her amazement, as Sam and Steve pulled up in the car. Bucky got her bag out and led her into the house and up to what would be her room for the next while. It was almost the size of her whole apartment, and it had its own en suite bathroom.

“It’s getting late, have you eaten?” She nodded looking around her room. “Okay, get some rest, you could use it after a day like today. If you need anything feel free to text me,” he said, letting her get settled in for the night.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face. She woke up the next morning to a text on her phone. “Let me know when you are up, butterfly, so I can show you around.” Her heart fluttered at his hospitality, and a part of her hoped that it wasn’t all a façade.

“Good morning.” Is all she sent once she got dressed and ready.

“Morning, Butterfly. Sleep well?” Almost instantly she got a reply. A soft smile graced her face as she thought about him waiting for her to get up. Just as she was about to reply, there was a knock at the door. She opened the door to find Bucky standing on the other side, in a sharp black suit. “Shall we go to breakfast?” He asked with his usual charismatic smile.

“Sure, and by the way I slept well. How did you sleep?” She walked beside him as he went down towards his private dining room.

“Better, knowing you were safe.” He held open the door for her, allowing her to see the full breakfast spread that had been laid out. As they ate Bucky explained that he had a very important meeting today, so she was free to wander most of the house, but he would be busy. Once they finished, he showed her around a little bit and pointed out his office, which if the door is closed meant that he is busy.

He dropped her off at her room and gave her the number of Sam, so that if she couldn’t find something she could ask him instead. However, if it was an emergency, she was still to contact Bucky himself, but only in an absolute emergency.

Tony walked into Bucky’s office with his main man, leaving the others to help train the newbie. “Where’s Wilson? Isn’t he always here?” There was a mocking tone to his voice.

“It’s just Rogers with me today, but I could ask you that as well.” Bucky snarked back. This meeting was originally scheduled to talk about a deal of technology from Tony’s side. “Why did your men target an apartment in the off-limits zone?” He didn’t hold back any accusations.

“I didn’t order anything; how do I know that you didn’t do it and are trying to cover your tracks,” Tony remarked disliking the accusations. As Bucky went to respond his phone rang, and there were very few people whose calls would go through. Seeing that it was her calling he took a minute to step away to answer the call before coming back in a worse mood than he was before.

While wandering around the house, looking for the library she was told was somewhere, someone she had never met came up to her. “What are you doing in here?” He asked with a bite in his tone quickly grabbing her before she could move. She was gagged so that she could not speak or do anything. He pulled out his phone and texted his boss about the intruder who would be put in the basement for him to deal with after the meeting.

Her hands were bound with rope that he grabbed from a table in the basement, but she still managed to sneak her phone out of her pocket once he left. She did the one thing she was told to, but also told not to. She called Bucky.

“Is this an emergency?” He asked sounding annoyed.

“Well…” she mumbled out through the gag.

“I told you not to call me if it wasn’t an emergency. I need you to stop being a disruption, I let you stay here, and all that I asked in return was to not be bothered during meetings. I just hope that you didn’t ruin this.” He then hung up on her. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, even though she was used to being unwanted.

“Hey, Sam, do you think you could help me out?” She phoned him once she calmed down. He agreed and she explained what happened the best she could behind the gag in her mouth.

“I’m really sorry that happened. Bucky informed everyone that he had a guest staying over but I guess that dude didn’t read the message.” Sam led her out of the basement and back to her room.

“Thank you,” she whispered closing herself in her room, to start packing. Her bag was packed just as quickly as she unpacked it, and she decided that the best course of action was to leave through her window. She knows when she is no longer welcome in a place and Bucky had made it crystal clear. She had forgotten one thing in her big hurry, the broken pieces of crystal.

“Fuck.” That’s all that went through Bucky’s mind at the end of the meeting. Between Stark, having yelled at her, and this supposed intruder that he had to deal with, he was drained. First, he needed to get out his frustration, so dealing with the intruder was the first task on his list. His anger billowed beneath the surface. “If she hadn’t interrupted, Stark wouldn’t have had a chance to think up a story.” He mumbled as he headed down into the basement. Horror filled his expression, when he got down there and the room was empty, and looked untouched, which means one of two things; either he was lied to, or one of his men released the intruder.

“Hey, Boss, how did the meeting go?” Sam asked as he picked up the phone.

Bucky growled into the phone, “Do you know what happened with the intruder? Did someone release them?”

Sam was taken aback by the aggression that his boss was showing, he rarely got this mad, especially towards his men. “Umm, yeah, I let her out.”

He didn’t even get to finish before Bucky snapped. “Why the fuck would you do that Sam? Did you not think I already had enough on my plate?”

Confusion filled Sam as he tried to figure out how to explain. “She called me and explained the situation. If you had wanted her down there, why didn’t you inform me, instead of telling me to help show her around?”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. “Wait, who was the intruder?” Sam explained that one of the other men put her down in the basement. His butterfly. Had that been why she was calling him; she had sounded muffled. Guilt began to curdle in his stomach. “Where did she go after?” He tried to calm his racing mind.

“She went back to her room; it was probably a scary experience for her. She was fighting back tears when I found her.” Swallowing down bile, Bucky thanked Sam before hanging up the phone. She hadn’t wanted to bother him, because she wasn’t physically in an emergency, but she had been mentally. But all he did was yell at her.

He didn’t know what he was going to say when he got to her room, but he needed to apologize. When he got there, he saw that the door was already open, but she wasn’t inside. None of her stuff was inside either. But there was something on the desk in the corner. And the window was open. He walked over to the desk and saw the bag of broken crystal and a note that sat in the middle of the desk.

“I’m sorry that I caused so many problems for you, Mr. Barnes, and I hope I didn’t ruin your meeting. Next time you bring a girl into your space, maybe make sure everyone knows that she is supposed to be there. Maybe we will meet again one day, but it would probably be best to try to avoid that. I will be out of the city in a few days, as to not cause you or Mr. Stark any problems. You will always be a dragonfly to me. You became a big point of change in my life, but it is only my beginning.

Signed, Butterfly.”

A few days. That was all he had to find her, and to beg her not to leave. How was he supposed to make this better? Had he already pushed her too far away? One of his men was excellent at fixing broken items, maybe that would be a starting place. He gathered the bag and went to make some phone calls.

She sat in the hotel room that she had rented for a few nights, and she tried to calm her mind and stop crying. She was used to not being able to stay somewhere too long, but she thought maybe she had found a place that she would have actually been welcome. A mob boss allowing her into his home, without knowing much about her. She got her hopes up, but she shouldn’t have. She knew better than that.

The phone that she was struggling to throw out, kept ringing on her nightstand. Showing his same caller id every ring. She couldn’t bring herself to answer because she couldn’t handle if he got anymore mad at her. What if he had wanted her to be tied up in the basement? She had been through torture before, but nothing hurt as bad as the thought of her dragonfly, being the one to break her.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts, as she fiddled with the business card that Tony Stark had left at her apartment between her visits there. She tucked the card away and got up to open the door.

“Ah, I finally found you. I was sent here to find you, because we found out that there is a very important missing document that belongs to them now. It had to have been you because you are the only one who would have had access while your parents were alive.” His words hit her like a truck. He must have been the one who trashed her apartment. As he pulled rope out of the bag on his shoulder, she just shook her head.

“I never took any documents, but I will come with you willingly, if I get my job back. I can even try to help find said document.” She said as she gathered her things including the phone, she shouldn’t have taken with her.

“I cannot promise that they will agree to any of that, but I will take you to my boss. But if we find out that you were lying to us, you know what will happen.” She rolled her eyes as she agreed to go with the stranger back to where she lived for the first 15 years of her life.

“She won’t answer her phone!” Bucky growled when Sam and Steve entered the room. “Do either of you have good news for me?” They both just shook their heads.

“She had been staying at a hotel nearby, but she apparently just left, with some man. But the worker was able to catch the man’s license plate number, it is a rental car from near the airport. We asked them who rented it, and they told us that the name that was given was an alias, HYDRA. We haven’t figured out what it means yet, but I think we are close.” Sam gave a run down of the events of the last few hours.

“So you’re telling me that she left in a random man’s car, and he took her to the airport?” Steve nodded confirming Bucky’s fears. He got up and grabbed his phone to call the airport to ground all the flights, there was only one slight flaw with his plan, the community airport was in Stark’s territory.

“Barnes, why did you threaten my airport? You have your personal one, I thought we discussed this.” Stark’s voice rang through Bucky’s car as he sped toward the airport.

“I can fill you in on details later, I just need the flights grounded for now. I fear there is a danger on one of the flights.” Bucky sounded panicked which was unusual especially when talking to his competitor.

“Fine, you’ve intrigued me, I will ground the flights, but it will cost you. We can meet up to discuss price after.” Tony hangs up to ground the flights, but it wouldn’t make a difference, their flight had already left.

It had been a month since she left, Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep properly since then. His search for her hadn’t stopped, and he held onto hope that he would find her and that she would be okay when he did. Fear filled his nights with thoughts about her having been kidnapped or hurt by the mystery man.

It was late by the time she made it to the city. She was in a bind, and she knew coming here would be a mistake, but this was the closest place that she knew she could hide. Staying here long though was out of the question, especially when she had those men on her back. What she hadn’t known was that the important document had been stored inside her teddy bear, she had found it when she tried to sew a hole that occurred from its travels. She had been away from her home for over ten years, but she never noticed the deed of ownership for her city, was in her teddy bear this whole time. She knew she had been destined to take over for her parents, but she never truly knew if that was what she wanted.

Tony Stark had been filled in on Bucky’s search for his butterfly when the sleepless nights started to get to him. Sleep deprivation can cause people to do strange things, and for Bucky that was ask for help, from his competitor, nonetheless. So when his phone rang with an unknown number, he answered it.

She introduced herself, and then said words that Tony never expected to come from her. “I need help, hiding from someone. I will only be in the city a few days, but he will probably come looking for me after I am gone. His name is Brock Rumlow.”

Tony shocked himself by breathing a sigh of relief, at the fact that she wasn’t hiding from Barnes. “I can help.” He gave her his address and then they hung up as she started to head over.

“Barnes.” Tony called Bucky, hearing him groan when he picked up the phone.

“What Stark? What do you want at 3 in the morning?” Bucky put his clothes on knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

“You will never guess who just called me. Butterfly is in the city and needs help hiding from a man named, Brock Rumlow. If you want to have a chance to talk to her, I would suggest coming over as soon as possible.” The gasp that left Bucky’s mouth almost made Stark laugh, but he knew if it was Pepper in her place, he would react the same way, that Bucky is.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion and fast forward at the same time as Bucky flew down the streets on his motorbike, to Stark’s mansion. He pulled up to the front gates, and they opened for him so he parked near the front door but not to close, so that if she saw it, wouldn’t run away. Just then the front door opened to reveal his butterfly looking confused.

“Tony, there is no paper out here, and anyway why would they deliver at this time of the night.” As she turned to go back in, she caught a glimpse of Bucky standing staring at her. Tony had done this on purpose, of course he had. Her eyes dropped to her feet as he approached.

He could feel all her muscles tense before she relaxed into his embrace. He had missed her so much that he didn’t care that they were standing in the front yard of his competition. When he finally let her go, she gave him a small smile before heading back inside. He followed, wanting, no needing, to talk to her.

“If you two want to talk, your temporary room, would be the most private place.” Stark’s mansion was pretty much the opposite of Bucky’s. High tech and modern, compared to Bucky’s old-fashioned style. They often mocked each other for it, but right now all Bucky cared about was his butterfly. She nodded as she led Bucky up the stairs to the room she would be staying in for a little while, while she gathered her bearings. The first thing that caught his eye, was a crystal dragonfly she had sitting on the desk.

 “I’m sorry I was an ass for yelling at you. Sam explained the situation. I have been searching for you since the day you left. Where have you been all this time?” Bucky rambled out sitting on her bed.

“I was working, I knew I had overstayed my welcome in this city, so I went onto the next place. I accidently made someone very dangerous mad, so I just need to lay low and collect myself for a few days and then I will be on my way.” She walked over to look out the window.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind? I don’t want you to leave again. I found a home in you; you have brought me more peace than I have felt in a long time.” Bucky pleaded trying to hold himself together. He was staring at the ground, so he didn’t notice her walk over to where he was sitting to join him.

“Why would you want me to stay all I do is cause problems?”  She tried to get him to look at her. When their eyes met, she saw raw pain in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I was a jerk for making you believe that, you are the one who actually helps me, the one thing that brought me peace. Please, I promise I can keep you safe.”  He grabbed a hold of her hands to try and get his desperation across.

“You weren’t the first person to tell me that, and well you probably won’t be the last.” She sighed leaning into his touch.

“I will if I have any say about it. Please give me a chance. If nothing else come stay with me, while you lay low.” She gave him a smile as he pleaded with her. He pulled her into her arms when she gave him a small nod. Tony smiled as he watched the interaction, he said it would be the most private, but not completely private, that was still his competition. “I couldn’t help but notice the crystal dragonfly on the desk, where did you get it?”

She looked at the dragonfly on the desk and smiled. “I bought it from the same place that my parents got me my butterfly. It represents the change that has come to my life due to a handsome stranger, and while I wasn’t sure if I would ever see him again, he reminded me of what my destiny is.” Her head pressed deeper into his chest out of comfort.

“And what, pray tell, is your destiny, Butterfly?” He asked leaning down to look her in the eyes.

“To lead. I was born to be a leader, and I was always a symbol of hope, for both my parents and the people they led.” She kept her response vague. Her heart pounded in her chest as he stroked her spine.

“My Butterfly, you are destined for great things, and I hope I can be by your side throughout it all.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head surprising her.

Very quietly she whispered into his chest, “I’d love that.” He just barely picked it up, his heart soaring at her words. He held her even closer to his chest, and then the door opened.

“Okay, love birds, I’m not offended that you would rather stay with him, and if you need anything from me, I will be happy to help, but please take all this lovey-doveyness back to your place Barnes,” Tony said as he leaned against the doorframe. Butterfly buried her face into Bucky’s chest out of embarrassment, causing him to laugh. Boy had she missed his laugh.

“Thank you, Stark. For taking care of, helping me find, and letting me know that my girl was in town. I am very grateful for your help.” Bucky stood to shake his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, just promise I get an invite to the wedding.” Tony joked as he shook Bucky’s hand. Giving Bucky one last wink, he left to let Butterfly pack.

“Butterfly, you left something behind when you were here last time,” Bucky mentioned as he carried her bag up to the room, she was staying in.

Holding up the imperfect crystal butterfly he said, “I had my man make sure that we could tell that it wasn’t perfect because I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to erase that or that I had just found a new one.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out to grab the butterfly. “It’s perfect thank you so much.”

He was so happy that she loved it, and he silently vowed to do anything it took to see her that way. After having carefully set it down on the desk she gave him a big hug, pressing her lips to his chest in the process.

“Can we talk about this dude who is coming for you? Because I can take care of him, but don’t ask how you don’t want to know.” Bucky asked as they sat down for dinner the next day.

She just shook her head. “Fine, I will share the details but, I only want to explain it once so can we set up a meeting with Mr. Stark.”

That confused Bucky, why did she feel that Stark also had to be there? “Butterfly, I promise you, I and my men can handle him just fine.”

“I know, you think that, but the only way to take him and his mob down for good would be to work with Mr. Stark because Rumlow has years of passed down knowledge on me.” She said pacing the room and surprising Bucky with the use of the word mob.

“How long have you known I was a part of the mob, Butterfly?” She just smirked at his question.

“Since you came to my apartment that day, one you were armed, and two Steve and Sam are some of your men rather than your friends. I also recognized the crest that you each were wearing. It was easy to figure out from there that the other mob boss in this city is Mr. Stark, but the one thing that I was never able to figure out is why you two are willing to split a city, but not work together.” She cut herself off there so that she could wait for Stark to arrive. Knowing how tough Bucky liked to be, she knew he would not call Tony over unless his life depended on it, so she took matters into her own hands and texted him to come.

“Umm, boss? You didn’t inform us that Stark was coming by today, is everything okay?” Sam asked entering the room with Steve. Bucky went to answer but Butterfly was faster.

“He didn’t know, but no everything is not okay, but I will explain it to you all at once. Let’s go to Bucky’s office.” She led the way to the office greeting Stark on the way. Butterfly sat down in Bucky’s chair and motioned for the others to take a seat on the other side of the dark wooden desk.

“What is going on, Butterfly? How did you make his mob angry?” Bucky asked utterly confused by her vagueness.

“Since when does your girl know about the mob? And that Rumlow dude, has one?” Tony Stark was trying to catch up, but he wasn’t the only one who was lost.

“No, he is just a mobster part of the mob that calls themselves HYDRA, they however used to be called SHIELD before being corrupted.” They stared at her with blank expressions on their faces. She knew she had lost them.

“Butterfly, a mob can’t be corrupted, it can be taken over, but I don’t think there is a way to corrupt something that does organized crime.” Bucky inserted confused as to what she meant, thinking that maybe she used the wrong word.

“I used the right word, but I guess I should explain everything from the very beginning.” She adjusted herself so she was sitting on the edge of the chair to appear more serious. “My parents were mob bosses together. They loved each other more than anyone I had ever met, and while they didn’t want to put their child at risk, they were willing to give up everything in order to have a child. It turned out that they struggled with serious fertility issues due to my mother having been tortured as a young child, by her parents' enemy. After years of treatment and trying, my mother finally became pregnant. However it was at one of the worst times possible, there was no way for them to give up the mob at that time because they were in the middle of a war.”

The shock that covered everyone’s faces made her smile; she knew more than they imagined. “Luckily, my mother was never one who did fieldwork, she was the strategist. I’m told that when I was born the war ended, and my parents, knew that I was destined to become a leader one day. I was given that crystal butterfly, for the nickname my parents had given to me when I was born, because I was a symbol of hope for my parents, for the future. Later when I was revealed to the community, I became a symbol of hope for them as well. I should explain something about my parents. They were absolutely ruthless when it came to anyone who tried to hurt me. They were surprisingly kind to the community, and they could be quite mean to their enemies. The community didn’t fear them, but they respected and relied on them.” She fiddled with the papers sitting on Bucky’s desk, while the others processed what she had told them so far.

“They sound like great people,” Steve added trying to ease some tension in the room.

“Yeah, they were the best. So I was kept a secret for my own safety for the first 9 ish years of my life, but I was also trained in self-defence just in case I needed it. I grew up surrounded by my parents’ people, and a few of them had children of their own that they would allow me to hang out with. But never in public. I’ll be honest, I rarely ever went in public, and even less with my parents. However I do remember one day I was out with my parents, we were driving somewhere when I was 15. I was relaxed in the backseat, while my father drove. They rarely ever drove, and I still sometimes wonder, if we hadn’t would one of them be alive, or would I be dead.” She had to look away, because the look of sadness in Bucky’s eyes, almost had her in tears.

“It was a thunderstorm that day. I remember as a loud crack of thunder happened, a bullet was shot and killed both my father and mother, causing the car to crash. I always assume that they thought the crash would have killed me. That’s why they didn’t aim a bullet for the back seat. I was not in great shape when I got out, but I was alive, and due to my training in patching up wounds, having worked with our mob doctor, for years, I was able to make it back home to pack a bag. I had tossed it out the window of my bedroom, and was getting ready to climb out, when I was taken down to the basement to be tortured until I promised to sign over the mob, or what the man I once knew as a friendly face hoped for instead, I died.”

Bucky stood up upon hearing this unable to hide his rage anymore. But he realized that is why she had been so terrified when they first met. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you afraid of your apartment that day if you had been through all of this, Butterfly?” He asked curious to know her mind.

“Well, I was worried it was a local mob boss wanting to collect some money as protection, because as I learned from my travels, after I escaped the torture, while he wasn’t looking, making a deal leads to my identity being discovered and well, I could never stay somewhere people knew who I was because this isn’t some small new mob I’m dealing with. And he has years of knowledge about me, and my weaknesses, especially since most of them were present when I was training. So the thought of being found was not ideal. But when Rumlow came to my hotel room, after the incident, he said that his boss was willing to forget me escaping, if I gave him the document he needed, in order for him to have any sway with the other mobs. It was the deed to the part of the city my parents owned. When I was born, they put it inside my teddy bear, so that even if I tried to leave this life, I would take their legacy with me. I found it while I was sewing the bear back up in my old bedroom, but Rumlow caught me reading the document. So I shoved it into my bag and fled.” She exhaled trying to make sure she included all the details.

“The only place that I knew I would be able to hide in for a little while that was close enough was here, but I know they will be following me, so if I am not going to live the rest of my life on the run, I am going to need both of your help.” She sunk back into the chair from worry, and the mental exhaustion those memories created.

Nobody said anything at first, and she started to worry that they wouldn’t help her. She felt two strong arms pick her up and sit down with her in his lap. “Butterfly, I am so sorry that you had to go through all that, of course, we will help you. Right Stark?” Bucky gave a pointed look to Tony.

“Of course, you have become one of us, and we protect our own, even if she happens to be fraternizing with the competition.” Stark loved to joke even in times like this, which a lot of people said wouldn’t make a good boss, but he is one of the best.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

YOU WERE, FAKING?

drew starkey x reader x obx cast

SUMMARY: the unspoken prank war between the obx cast finds a new pair in the lead when Y/N and Drew decide to pull a fainting prank.

based on this ask !! i hope you like it anon, and it’s more of a drabble than a full length one-shot so apologies !! :) i kinda wrote it with a gn!reader so it could be enjoyed by everyone, and it can be interpreted as platonic with drew or not, it’s up to you <3

WARNINGS: fake fainting, pure fluff (a teensy bit of angst), the obx cast being hilarious😭 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 827

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks cast was known for their wild pranks on each other. It had become an unspoken competition of sorts—who could pull off the most elaborate stunt? From fake snakes on set to airhorns hidden in trailers, the bar had been set high. But Drew and Y/N had been conspiring for weeks to deliver the ultimate prank: something serious enough to leave the cast reeling, yet harmless enough to laugh about afterward.

"Are you sure about this?" Drew asked, leaning against the kitchen counter in their shared rental. "You know how dramatic JD gets."

Y/N smirked, tying their sneakers. "That's exactly why it's gonna work. They've pulled worse on us."

"You're evil," Drew teased, shaking his head with a grin.

"Maybe, but you're helping me, so what does that say about you?" Y/N shot back with a wink.

Drew chuckled, tossing an arm around Y/N's shoulders. "Alright, let's do this. But if I get punched by Chase, I'm blaming you."

—

The cast was lounging around between scenes on set, laughing and swapping stories. Madelyn was scrolling through TikTok, Chase was attempting to juggle three water bottles, and JD was doing terrible impressions of John B. Everyone was relaxed—exactly the atmosphere Drew and Y/N needed.

Y/N glanced at Drew, who subtly nodded. The two had been practicing their act for days. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood, pretending to stretch before stumbling slightly.

"Whoa, you okay?" Rudy asked, noticing the movement first.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—" Y/N's voice faltered, and they pressed a hand to their forehead dramatically.

Drew was immediately at their side. "Hey, sit down. You don't look good," he said, his tone laced with concern.

Everyone's attention snapped to Y/N as they swayed on their feet.

"I... I think..." Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, and they collapsed, hitting the ground with a thud.

"Y/N!" Madelyn shouted, leaping to her feet.

"What the hell?" Chase yelled, rushing over.

JD dropped his phone, wide-eyed. "Oh my God, what's happening?"

Drew crouched beside Y/N, putting on his best panicked expression. "Y/N, wake up! Hey, hey, come on!" He shook their shoulders gently. "Somebody get water!"

Rudy bolted to grab a water bottle while Madelyn knelt next to Drew. "What happened? Were they feeling sick earlier?"

"I don't know," Drew lied, running a hand through his hair. "They said they were fine, but—" He cut himself off, looking utterly distraught.

"Should we call 911?" Chase asked, pulling out his phone.

"No, wait," Drew said quickly, holding up a hand. "Give them a second. They might've just fainted. Y/N?" He shook them again.

JD, visibly freaking out, was pacing back and forth. "This is bad. This is so bad. They're not waking up!"

Madelyn's voice cracked. "Y/N, please, wake up."

Y/N kept their face perfectly still, barely resisting the urge to laugh as they felt Drew's hand squeeze their shoulder—a silent signal that they were nailing it.

After a solid minute of chaos, Y/N finally cracked. Their lips twitched, and before they could stop it, a giggle escaped.

Drew immediately broke character, a grin spreading across his face. "No way," he said, laughing.

Y/N sat up, bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, you guys! You should've seen your faces!"

The cast froze, staring at the two of them in disbelief.

"Wait... what?" Madelyn blinked, still kneeling on the ground.

"You were faking?" Chase shouted, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Rudy, who had just returned with a water bottle, looked at them like they were insane. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Y/N doubled over, tears streaming down their face from laughing so hard. "You all were so scared!"

JD pointed a finger at Drew. "You were in on this? You traitor!"

"Guilty," Drew admitted, shrugging. "But come on, it was good, right?"

"No, it was not good!" Madelyn scolded, but the corner of her mouth twitched as if she were trying not to laugh.

"You guys had me ready to call 911!" Chase said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, and I thought I was about to give mouth-to-mouth!" JD added dramatically, making everyone groan.

"You wouldn't have done that," Rudy shot back.

"I might've!" JD insisted, crossing his arms.

Y/N leaned against Drew for support, still laughing. "Okay, okay, we're sorry. But admit it—we just won the prank war."

Chase huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn't win. You just... traumatised us a little."

Madelyn rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. You win this round. But we're coming for you."

"Oh, we'll be ready," Drew said with a smirk, pulling Y/N closer.

As the group finally began to laugh it off, JD pointed at Y/N. "You better sleep with one eye open."

"Worth it," Y/N replied with a grin, fist-bumping Drew.

The prank war had officially reached a new level.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a bit of a silly one, and more of a drabble than a full length one-shot, but i hope you enjoy anon !! sorry this took a while, i’m trying to work through like 20 something requests XD but i’m trying my best to get most done <3

of anyone has any angst requests (w/ a happy ending) pls send them, i am in the mood for angst !!

[vee-beeee]

Games

HIII

Another short fluffy and crack one one for yallll, because Im trying not to write 3 million words LOL

If you know what video this is from, you are a certified hood banger

Premise: The boys are a littleeee competitive

just a tad

but so are you

Warnings: anger, swearing maybe, big baby rage mad boys, poor gladio

Chocobros x reader

╰┈➤---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"UNO"

"Prompto, I swear to god, if you win again ill kill you"

"I'm joining in on that"

"Anything for his majesty"

Sooooo you were currently sitting at a picnic table, cards in hand, watching 3 angry men stare down a VERY scared Prom. The poor guy chuckled and shied away from the group while Noctis silently took his turn, slapping down a card as he continued to glare at the blonde. Ignis took his turn and as always, he took 5 minutes to analyze his cards. You bit the inside of your cheek, and looked down at your own cards, feeling a little bad for Prompto. But he had won 3 times already, so that made any guilt you felt fade away. This was war.

As you scanned your cards you found a pretty deadly one in the mix. Should you do it?

Should you play a +4 on Gladio when he only had 2 cards left?

He might actually strangle you, nobody would be able save you.

Oh well. You will die a peaceful death, suffocating in his bicep.

Your turn

"NO WHY" Gladio yelled out from next to you when he saw the card you gently threw into the pile, making you cringe away from the burly man. Noctis burst into laughter, and Ignis joined in silent chuckles when he saw the card.

"Y/n, baby, why would you do this too me??" you closed your eyes and sighed, slowly facing the man. You cracked one peeper open to see that he looked SO depressed, his shoulders were hunched and he was grumbling as he grabbed the extra cards. Feeling bad, you brushed your arm against his and gently leaned up to kiss his cheek. He just glared at you, and continued pouting.

Gladio finished taking all the cards, and soon it was Prompto's turn. Everyone waited with bated breathe as he sighed a reluctantly took one more card. Cue everyone cheering.

Prompto looked like a kicked puppy, so you leaned over to him to give him some encouragement. Kinda

"Just remember, you've won 2 times already" you winked and pulled yourself back to your original position as Prom reddened, and gave you a small smile. You returned it, and the game continued.

Finally, it was your turn once again. You turned to Gladio and saw him intensely staring at your cards, almost like he was scared of what was going to happen. You smirked to yourself and put down a regular red card, and you watched Gladio's body sag with relief. He exhaled and put down a green card (same number) without thinking twice.

And then everyone turned to Prompto, who sheepishly drew another card.

And then another.

And then another.

This went on for a WHILE

Prompto started screaming about how he "doesn't have a green" and your party started wheezing with laughter at the poor blonde.

Finally he managed to pull one.

Prom let out a relieved groan as he set down a green nine. He looked down at his massive amount of cards he accumulated and you counted that he had 10. You gave him a sad smile, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

By Ignis telling Noct "not to do it"

You looked over and saw the prince shaking with laughter, as Ignis (having seen the card being shown to him) was desperately telling Noct not to do something.

And then he put down a green reverse card.

And Prompto almost burst into tears. He cried out one final "I DONT HAVE A GREEN" while Noctis fell backwards with laughter. You looked around the group, and mentally took a picture of everyone.

Promptos look of absolute betrayal, Gladio holding on to his stomach and wheezing, and Ignis with his head in his hands.

And of course, Noctis on the ground.

You leaned your face in your hands that were resting on the table and chuckled, and slightly kicked the giggling prince who was rolling under the table.

You loved game night.

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

Just a lil short one :D

I rewatched this uno video and I love it so much lol

HOPE YOU ENJOYED READINGG

[superherotiger]

*pokes head through your catflap* humbly asking for a 97 drabble of pietro (+wanda? rahne? anyone else if you want) looking for erik post-ep5

This definitely became bigger than a drabble but I hope you enjoy it bestie haha!

AO3

~~~

The eeriest moment on a battlefield wasn’t the fight itself, but the silence that followed in its wake.

Genosha was a void of sound. Streets that were once filled with music and laughter had been smothered beneath layers of rubble, and statues that represented hope to so many were now torn down and scattered across the broken palace. The city was once a home to thousands of mutants- new lives just waiting to begin.

Now, it was nothing but a graveyard.

Pietro had seen his fair share of battlefields, but they all paled in comparison to Genosha. At least- what was left of it. Debris stretched for miles in every direction, creating a perilous, scorched terrain that few had dared to enter.

The last known survivor had been brought into camp nearly three weeks ago. The last body that had been recovered over two. Despite how hard X-Factor had been working since they touched down on the island, even they were beginning to lose hope.

But Pietro couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop moving.

Couldn’t stop searching.

Couldn’t stop until he found…

The team were beginning to worry about him, he knew. Especially Lorna. He could always feel her eyes following him whenever he left camp on another fruitless search in the desolate remains of the city.

“Pietro… it may be time to end the search and turn our energy towards the survivors,” Lorna had told him earlier that morning.

“How can you say that?” Pietro bit back coldly. “There are still hundreds missing!”

“And there are hundreds more here, right now- and they need us,” Lorna implored, her eyes betraying the grief and exhaustion they both felt. “We can’t keep chasing ghosts, Pietro.”

“And what makes you think there are no survivors left?” he asked bitterly. 

Lorna’s expression softened with pity.

There was nothing Pietro hated more than pity.

“I know what he meant to you…”

Pietro didn’t stay long enough to hear the rest of her words. He couldn’t bear it. Not the crushing sympathy in her gaze or the truth awaiting in her patient voice. He just couldn’t accept it.

Not yet- not until he knew for certain that his father had fallen in this hellish wasteland. 

The thought seemed impossible to comprehend. Magneto was not one to die easily- history had proven it time and time again. To believe that the man hadn’t clawed his way out of death like he had a dozen times before seemed like a disservice to his strength and resilience.

So no, Pietro didn’t stop his search.

For hours he traversed the decimated land, digging through endless mountains of rubble and climbing through the unstable burrows and tunnels that wove beneath the surface. While Pietro searched for any survivor or body he could recover, his heart longed to find his father above all else. The two hadn’t always been on the best of terms, but they were attempting to mend old wounds in recent years. To make something new out of a history littered with secrets and betrayals.

Pietro should have gone to see his father sooner. He regretted not seeking him out as soon as he heard the rumours of Magneto’s reform, or better yet after the trial by the UN swung in his favour. Over the past months Pietro had considered going to visit, but without fail he would talk himself out of it. Tell himself that his father didn’t need to be bothered. That he would find another time.

And as was the speedster’s cruel fate, time had run out.

It always did…

The sound of shifting rubble drew Pietro out of his fixation, peering up from the pit of cracked walls and shattered glass that had once been someone’s home to find the source of the noise. For a moment, he felt his heart spark with hope. Perhaps there was another survivor. Maybe he hadn’t been too late-

“Pietro?”

His hope swiftly extinguished at the familiar voice.

“You shouldn’t be this far out- it’s dangerous,” Pietro called back with barely concealed frustration.

Drawn to his voice, a figure covered in dusty red fur climbed over the ledge of debris and gazed down at him in relief. “I could say the same to you,” Rahne -the youngest member of X-Factor- chimed back lightly, pearly white eyes shifting to emerald green as she returned to her human form.

Pietro ignored her comment and started shoving aside broken furniture and scorched foundations again to continue his mission, asking sharply, “Did Lorna send you to retrieve me?”

Rocks skidded as Rahne came to join him in the hollow, kneeling down beside the speedster before she answered gently, “No. I came because I was worried about you.”

Pietro scoffed, though regret was quick to flood in when he noticed Rahne’s saddened stare in the corner of his eye. He took a breath so not to let any harsh words slip. Rahne deserved better than that. “Though I appreciate your concern, it’s unnecessary. You should return to the camp where it’s safe,” he suggested.

“It would do little help,” Rahne said, placing a warm hand on his shoulder as she explained, “I can’t stop worrying about you anymore than you can stop worrying about him.”

Pietro’s fingers clenched around the jagged rocks below. “Since when did everybody become an expert on how I feel.”

“Well, are we wrong?”

Sighing, Pietro turned his gaze towards the sky that was painted in shades of orange and pink. It was only now that he realised the sun was well on the way to setting, too lost in his search to notice. No wonder Rahne had been worried.

So, figuring she at least deserved an honest answer, Pietro said, “It’s not that simple. With Magneto, it never is. I hated being his son in the beginning. How could my sister and I have been born of someone so cruel? So monstrous?”

Rahne hummed in understanding -perhaps more understanding than he would ever know- and waited patiently for him to continue.

“I wanted to hate him- and I did, for a long time after we learnt of our connection,” Pietro admitted, before closing his eyes as memories flooded back in like a tidal wave. “And then the Phalanx attacked. You remember how vicious they were- how close we were to losing everything that day.”

“I do,” Rahne said solemnly.

Grimacing, Pietro confessed, “It was my fault… the speed of it, at least. The Phalanx studied and replicated my mutation to hasten their conquest. I was the accelerant to humanity’s downfall.”

“Pietro, you can’t blame yourself like that,” Rahne attempted to sooth. “We were all caught off guard by their attack. And besides, we still won in the end. That’s what really matters.”

“Yes, a victory that relied on Magneto’s cooperation,” Pietro said with a humourless scoff. “My father -the self proclaimed judge, jury and executioner of the world- saved humanity that day. Do you know why, Rahne?”

The girl shook her head.

“He did it for me,” Pietro said, nearly choking on the grief that rose in his throat as he did. “As soon as he heard of my capture, he joined Beast and the others to destroy the Phalanx. Saved the very world he despised just to protect me.”

It was a truth Pietro had never dared to tell anyone else before, afraid of the backlash he might face. He knew his father was a dangerous and hated man. Pietro of all people had not forgotten his transgressions. But no one else knew what it felt like to be the son of Magneto. To hear the words “Thank God you’re safe,” whispered against his temple like a prayer as he soaked in the security of his father’s embrace. To know that the fate of the world had relied on one man’s love for his child.

How could anyone else ever understand that burden -the confusion, the confliction- when Pietro barely understood it himself?

Wrapping his arms around his chest to still the cries that desperately wanted to burst forward, Pietro said shakily, “Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that someone loves you enough that they would sacrifice everything just to keep you? It’s an impossible debt to repay.”

A beat of silence passed, before Rahne asked softly, “Is that why you won’t stop?”

Pietro bowed his head with a sigh. “My father would do the same for me,” he answered simply. “What kind of son am I if I gave up on him now.”

Slowly, Rahne leant her head against Pietro’s shoulder, awaiting his reaction before laying a hand on his arm when he didn’t push her away. “I would never ask you to give up,” she said with such compassion it made his eyes well with tears. “All I ask is that you would take care of yourself. We’ve already lost so many… please, I don’t want to lose you too, Pietro.”

Despite their voices sounding nothing alike, Pietro could hear an echo of his sister’s concern in Rahne’s words. Wanda had asked for the very same thing when they were children. Orphaned and alone and starving, Pietro had done everything in his power to keep her safe, no matter the cost to himself. No matter how hard Wanda begged him to stop and rest.

Now, years later, Rahne had taken his sister’s place. An unfair sentence for such a kind heart. And though Pietro hadn’t been able to spare Wanda of that burden, he refused to let Rahne experience the same thing.

Pietro would not give up on his father. Regardless of where X-Factor went next or how much time passed, there would always be a part of his soul searching for the man. But with a humbling realisation, Pietro knew Magneto wasn’t the only family that needed him right now.

So lifting an arm around Rahne’s shoulders to embrace her like he had done for Wanda so many times before, Pietro assured gently, “I promise you Rahne, you will never lose me. I’m sorry if I ever made you fear that you would.”

Smiling up at him with relief etched into every feature, Rahne teased, “I’m going to hold you to that, Speedy.”

Pietro scoffed in amusement. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Looking ahead, the two watched as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the battlefield into shadows and hiding its horrors from view. For the first time since landing in Genosha, the silence didn’t feel uncanny. It felt peaceful. The same peace Pietro felt when Wanda welcomed him with a warm embrace, or when his father pressed an adoring kiss against the crown of his head.

Tightening his hold around Rahne ever so slightly, Pietro was grateful that in his greatest time of uncertainty, he still had family to rely on.

“Ready to head home?” Rahne asked gently.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Pietro felt the crushing weight on his chest ease at last. “Yes, I am,” he answered, pleased that his words were entirely honest.

But pulling out of the embrace with a spark of mischief in her eyes, Rahne joked, “Bet I could beat you in a race.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing the dirt and dust from his suit. “Gambling would not be a wise career for you then,” he said bluntly.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Speedy,” she said as she bounced up to her feet with a grin. “Afraid I’ll win?”

“You’d be talking to my dust before you even said ‘go’,” he mocked, though a smile was quick to follow when Rahne burst into laughter, knowing full well that the speedster would never abandon her, not even for a joke.

It was the most beautiful sound to echo across of Genosha in weeks.

~~~

Don't forget to check out the @house-of-dadneto event!! ✨

[separatist-apologist]

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Read on AO3

Elain knew she’d gotten Ayla into some trouble. For a month, her friend had been locked away in her family's chambers and when she returned, Elain noticed she winced every time she sat down. 

You’re making a mess of everything, she thought morosely when Ayla wouldn’t make eye contact with her at all. Arina had retreated back into the library, leaving Elain to return to her overrun garden. She’d begun sketching it out crudely in a journal, trying to map out where things would go so she wasn’t planting blind. 

Elain’s garden was the only place she felt true peace anymore. Spending time around Lucien was beginning to feel unbearable—something hot built in her throat if they were around each other too long, spilling into angry words that she couldn’t take back. Elain didn’t know why she couldn’t just be nicer or why the sight of him frustrated her the way it did.

Lucien had given her another gift just that morning—a pretty set of pearl combs she’d thanked him for before tossing them into a drawer that was increasingly becoming dedicated to the things he purchased for her. Lucien was trying, in his way. Everything he gave her was thoughtful and generous—Elain loved the simple elegance of pearls set into silver combs. 

They weren’t good for gardening, at any rate—that was what she told herself as she tied a scarf around her head and headed out, prepared for another long day of ripping out weeds until she couldn’t take the seeping cold. She wasn’t alone today. There, hanging around the gates, stood Tanwen.

“Come to help?” she asked, certain he wasn’t there for any particular reason. 

“Why not,” he replied, opening the iron for her before following just behind. “What do you need from me?”

“You could rip up that tree?” she suggested, pointing toward a sapling that was more weed than anything. “Or loosen up the soil with your magic?”

“Why not both?” he replied with a lopsided smile. For a while they worked in silence, digging up a pile of weeds they tossed in the center of the garden alongside all Elain’s ruined rocks. It was nice to have Tanwen there, if only to provide a little muscle when she didn’t want to exert herself so much. 

“So,” Tanwen began when the skies began to darken and a gloomy fog started to roll over the hillside from the cursed forest. “Have you seen Ayla?”

It took Elain a moment to absorb his words. “I see her, but I don’t speak to her. I think she’s angry with me.”

“Ah,” Tanwen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should take these to the stables, if you’ll…excuse me.”

Elain watched him go, hair blowing in a vicious wind. Was he asking because he’d been the one to carry her in, or because he wanted to hear more about her? Elain couldn’t be sure. It was wrong to meddle when she’d already been the cause of Ayla’s suffering and yet…

“Lucien,” Elain breathed later that night, greeting her husband sitting in a chair in the bedroom, book in hand. His eyes found her nails, caked with dirt and cracked again. Lucien’s mouth drew into a deep frown, though he said nothing.

Smart, she praised silently.

“Wife,” he replied, as if reminding her of exactly what she was to him. Elain knew they were on borrowed time—at some point she was going to have to get over herself and have sex with him. How long, she wondered? Another month, perhaps? Two? Lucien didn’t want her unwilling, but Elain couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she went to him gladly, either. 

“We never had a celebration,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed once she was done with her hands.

“Why would we?” he replied, turning the page of his book without looking at her.

“Why wouldn’t we? Everyone else gets one.”

Lucien glanced up. “You want to celebrate wedded bliss?” he questioned. 

Truthfully, no. It would require the two of them to be together all night, touching and dancing and smiling. Elain took a breath. “Yes, I want that. Will you ask your mother to organize it?”

Lucien stared long and hard, as if he could read her thoughts simply by willing it. Elain was careful to leave herself casual, though it did no good.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she replied, heart picking up speed. “I just…think it’s strange we haven’t.”

Lucien took a breath. “Does this mean I can expect you to crawl into bed with me that night?”

“I get in bed with you every night,” she snapped, immediately annoyed. Elain didn’t bother mentioning that they were getting a little too accustomed to sleeping beside each other. She’d woken in the middle of the night to find Lucien’s arm flung over her stomach as he drooled into a pillow. 

“You keep your night clothes on.”

They were in dangerous territory. “What are you demanding of me?”

Lucien ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m demanding nothing. You’re the one who wants to celebrate our marriage and I…” And he was simply a male. He wanted the right to touch her and perhaps considered this a good negotiation point. 

“Don’t host it, then,” Elain said, turning back to the bathroom as a means to escape him. She slammed the door behind her, back against the wood as she listened for his response.

“Cauldron boil me,” he mumbled, but Lucien did nothing else. Even after Elain took a long bath, hoping he might find some other way to amuse himself, but when she came out, hair freshly braided and mostly dried, Lucien was already in bed. He seemed asleep, back facing her as it rose and fell in a steady, fluid motion. He’d pulled his hair out of the strap he’d been wearing, allowing it to cascade over his shoulders and Elain considered, not for the first time, what it might be like to let him touch her. To be curtained with the waterfall of auburn hair, to feel the muscles of his back shift as he moved…

Touch him, a little voice whispered. Elain panicked, drawing her fingers into a fist before sliding them under her body to keep her from doing so. What was wrong with her? The urge had come from nowhere, the instinct to run her finger down the length of his spine so overwhelming that Elain’s hands shook from the effort it took not to touch him.

It was his closeness, she decided as she settled into bed. His male presence and her instinctual response. Nothing more. Still, it took Elain a long time to sleep as a familiar vision crowded behind her vision.

Go away, she demanded. She didn’t want another image of Lucien’s naked form writhing atop her as her mind forced her to contend with what might be if she just gave in. He didn’t want her and Elain would be damned if she made the first move. Or second…or hundredth, actually. She woke a little before him, dressed herself, and made her way down to breakfast before Lucien could speak to her at all.

So she was surprised when the Lady of Autumn came to her, face beaming with joy. “I heard you wanted a celebration,” she said in that sweet voice of hers. The voices in the room fell to a near whisper as everyone listened in, the excitement in the room palpable. 

“I would,” Elain said, wanting so badly to be the daughter The Lady of Autumn—Amera—wanted her to be. She saw the way Amera fawned over Arina, who allowed it with glowing cheeks and shiny eyes. Elain bet Arina let Amera throw her a party the morning after, even if she spent the night torturing Eris with a knife.

Elain didn’t want to think about the implications there. 

Amera clapped pale, delicate hands together. “Oh, how lovely. It’ll take a bit of time to put together…would you like to help?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed, forgetting why she wanted to do this in the first place. Her own mother could be cold, calculated and careful. There had never been much warmth even for her favorites, and Elain often felt intimidated around her mother. Amera exuded the kind of warmth she’d often wished for as a child. If Amera had asked her to commit a murder, Elain was certain she would have picked up a sword and marched beneath the Lady of Autumn’s banner. 

Not that Elain knew how to use a weapon. Perhaps Tanwen could teach her.

Or your husband.

“Should we get started?” Amera asked.

Elain couldn’t suppress her grin. “Nothing would delight me more.”

LUCIEN:

“How do you stand it?” Lucien demanded, interrupting Eris and Cadmus in their private parlor. 

“Looking at you?” Eris replied dryly, eyes flicking up from his cards. “I manage.”

Lucien growled, earning a laugh from Conall across the room. He sat on a sofa, the picture of bored nobility while Tanwen tossed a knife up in the air. They were hiding from Beron, who had woken up in a foul mood. It was only a matter of time before he came looking for his sons.

Better to make themselves scarce and wait for the storm to pass. 

“You’re very funny,” Lucien said flatly, pulling up a chair to sit with his brothers. “I mean with mother. How do you stand her fawning over Arina?”

Eris’s brows knit together. “I rather like it.”

Of fucking course he did. 

“Gets her out of your hair, does it?” Tanwen taunted, clearly bored and looking for sport. 

“Her mother is dead,” Eris snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. It hadn’t been more than a year since the bond had snapped and Lucien didn’t think Eris would ever stop chafing beneath it. Even a whisper of insult toward Arina was enough to set his teeth to snapping. 

“Elain is planning a celebration,” Lucien informed his brothers, sinking further into his chair as he swiped a decanter of whiskey from the ornately carved table. “All mother speaks of is how sweet and lovely Elain is.”

“She is sweet,” Connall goaded. “If she were my—”

“That’s enough!” Eris barked, unwilling to mop up blood. “She would never be your wife because that would require you to be a male with honor…which you are decidedly not.”

Tanwen chuckled as Cadmus only nodded, eyes flicking from Eris to a scowling Connall. Would Cadmus break them up? That was his usual role in moments like these. 

“I don’t have a wife because Elain and Arina electrocuted the only good option left to us. How is little Ayla doing these days?”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, wondering why he bothered to talk to his brothers at all.

“She’s well,” was all Eris said, laying his cards down with a triumphant smile. Lucien, having the benefit of standing behind Cadmus, cracked a half smile knowing that Eris was outmatched. A scowl darkened Eris’s face as Cadmus chuckled, pulling coins toward his already sizable pile.

No one could outsmart Cadmus in a game of cards.

“If you’re so bothered by your wife, why not remove her from court?” Cadmus finally said, glancing over his shoulder. “Send her to the Mountain Palace, or the Seaside Palace, if you must. Send some of the ladies from court to keep her company.”

The room had suddenly become frosty, the temperature dropping by several degrees. Lucien could feel all of his brothers glaring at him, their disapproval plain. She’d won them over just as surely as she’d stolen his mother and Lucien was jealous. Elain had simply come in and charmed everyone while he’d been trying to win the approval of his family presumably from the day he’d been born.

His brothers acted as if they knew something about him he did not—he was kept just out of reach, tolerated but not one of them. They shared some secret language Lucien did not speak. It didn’t help that Lucien was also a century younger than his next oldest brother, and Eris was nearly three centuries old by the time Lucien had been a baby. They’d watched him grow up, but in his memories, they were all grown.

Why was it so hard for him and so easy for Elain?

“Enjoy yourself, little Lucien,” Connall said in that easy, flippant way of his. “If mother likes Elain, it means you’ve found yourself a keeper. From Spring, no less.”

“It’s just…”

Not what he wanted. Every eye in the room fell back to their hands, refusing to look at him. They knew, though. Even after Eris had sent Jesminda away, even after she’d told him to leave her alone, he was still holding out some sliver of hope that he was going to wake up one morning and it would be Jesminda's dark hair splayed out on the pillow.

Even after everything, he still wanted her.

Lucien knew he was a fool.

“Go to bed, Lucien,” Eris said, rising from his chair. “Go fuck your wife until you can think of nothing and no one else. And if that doesn’t work, take a mistress to amuse yourself.”

“Leave Elain alone,” Tanwen added, a sharp edge to his voice. When Lucien looked around, he found his brothers all looking at him again, their eyes matching Tanwen’s tone. 

Right. 

She was one of them, but he was not. Lucien strode from the room, determined not to take Eris’s advice. Cadmus’ held promise, though. What if he sent her away after the celebration? Eris would never agree to let Arina join her, but Ayla would likely be allowed. Hells, Elain could hand pick the ladies she wanted to accompany her. And if she picked up with some sentry, well. Lucien didn’t care.

I’ll kill any male who touches her—

Lucien exhaled with frustration, making his way back to his bedchambers where he found Elain seated at a table staring at several different color swatches. She looked up when he walked into the room and without thinking, offered him a pretty half smile.

“Come help me,” she said as Lucien stood there agape. Was Elain willingly asking him to sit in her company? She typically darted off anytime he walked into a room. Lucien walked to her, waiting for the spell to shatter and her to realize it was him and not one of the brothers she preferred.

“What do you need help with?”

“These different shades of pink,” she said, a frown tugging the corners of her pretty mouth. “I hate them all.”

“So do I,” Lucien admitted, drinking in the rosy, spring shades. “What is your theme?”

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Old meets new.”

Spring meets Autumn, he supposed. Elain fidgeted with one of the squares of cloth, unable to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps something darker?” he offered. “More maroon than pink?”

“I thought the same thing,” Elain admitted, setting the little square back on the table. “But your mother has this vision of pink and silver and I don’t want to disappoint her.

“Trust me when I say you’ll disappoint her far more if you let her dress you in something you don’t like.”

“She’s been so nice,” Elain admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s like my mother if…”

Lucien held his breath, waiting for Elain to finish.

“Nevermind,” she said with a sigh, gathering up her swatches. “I—”

“No,” he breathed, strangely desperate. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” she said, but Lucien wasn’t going to be deterred. He’d take anything, any little piece of information that would give him a more solid footing with the stranger he called a wife. They’d been married for nearly two weeks and Lucien knew practically nothing about her. Elain didn’t give up her secrets easily and in her defense, Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation with her, either.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” she said, bracing herself against the table. Lucien scooted closer as Elain lifted herself atop it, legs swinging sweetly. He wanted to get on his knees, wanted to slide his hand up her slim calves and—

“No. So you may as well just tell me,” he said, flashing her what he hoped was a charming grin. 

“Your mother is like my mother if she was warm,” Elain managed, eyes latching on a painting across the room. 

“Your mother is unkind?”

“No, not unkind, just…” Elain bit her bottom lip again. “Spring is a lot like a vipers nest, and you have to think like one if you want to survive. My mother is queen of the vipers, I suppose. She wasn’t cruel, but…we all had our parts to play, clearly.”

“Why did you go first?” Lucien asked, giving voice to the question that had plagued him since she’d first been sent to him. “Why not your older sister?”

Elain sighed. “The High Lord delays the match. He’s angling for Feyre, but the humiliation of spurning Nesta would ruin all of us. I think mother wanted to see me gone just in case he decided to spit in the face of tradition.”

“Tamlin loves tradition,” Lucien said softly. “If he promised to marry Nesta, he will.”

Elain nodded, though it was clear she didn’t agree. Whatever was going on over there, Elain certainly knew it better. Still, it was nice to have some context to the marriage. Elain had agreed, even though she didn’t want to, to ensure her sister's futures, too. There was something strangely lovely about it.

Or maybe it was just the insight that Lucien appreciated. He didn’t understand Elain at all, especially knowing her father likely would have intervened if she’d begged. Sometimes, Lucien imagined that Elain had come simply to torment him, even if deep down he knew that wasn’t true.

She’d come because she loved her family. That made it a little harder to dislike her. Would Lucien have done the same for his brothers? He genuinely couldn’t say, though he suspected he wouldn’t have. Not that it mattered—males weren’t held to the same standards as females. If Lucien had ruined his engagement, Elain would have been tainted in the process but he would have come out unscathed. 

“If you want, I can talk to mother,” Lucien offered, wanting to do something for Elain that wasn’t half apology. He felt earnest—hopeful, even. “Soften the blow.”

Elain offered him a half smile that made her even more beautiful than usual. Lucien was terrified of the day she gave him a full smile, wholly directed at him. Would he survive it? Lucien wasn’t sure he’d survive any of this because Elain was his mate, and he had the terrible feeling that if he got to know her, he’d like her.

It was a constant war between not wanting her at all and wanting her so badly it made his teeth ache. It was going to be like this for his entire life. Lucien understood why so many gave in to the bond. A not small part of him wanted to. Wanted to throw himself at her feet and demand to know why she hadn’t told him if she felt it, too. And another part wanted…well. Wanted to know if she’d like her if he didn’t have that thread tugging in his chest. His heart pounded out a steady, consistent beat: mine, mine, mine.

“I can do it,” she said, rising from her chair while stretching out her neck. “I don’t want her to think I don’t respect her.”

“She wouldn’t think that,” Lucien assured her, though he appreciated Elain was willing to have a personally uncomfortable conversation. 

“All the same,” Elain said blithely, eyes still dancing even when her mouth had flattened into a neutral expression. She was so fucking pretty. 

“Well. Tell me the colors so I don’t embarrass you,” he said, hoping, once again, he was coming off as charming and not demanding. Elain glanced over her shoulder, a curl ghosting over her cheek.

“Whatever you say.”

She turned for the bedroom, leaving Lucien to trail helplessly behind her. 

ELAIN:

If everything went according to plan, Tanwen would ask Ayla to dance. They’d look at each other. Maybe even speak, assuming Tanwen could move both his feet and lips at the same time. Maybe they’d kiss, if the night went well, and Tanwen would realize he was madly in love with Ayla and Elain could spend the rest of her time arranging their marriage to take her mind off her own. 

The Lady of Autumn had gone all out—the ballroom was packed with people from a myriad of courts, including her own. She’d seen Nesta floating around in a gown made of spun silver—a match for the blue of her sharp eyes. If Nesta was there, Feyre was, too, likely exploring some hidden area of the palace she shouldn’t be in. Elain had seen a few Day Court courtiers flock to Arina, their eyes lined with kohl, dressed in bright, breezy linens that seemed strangely out of place around Arina. 

Elain had taken Lucien’s advice, told his mother she didn’t like the rose color that had been chosen and ended up in a blood red gown that she never would have chosen for herself, once upon a time. When Amera presented it to Elain, setting the silk gown gently on the bed, Elain’s heart had thrummed.

Feyre would have worn it. Nesta, too. Her sisters were bolder, less afraid of making a statement. She wanted to be the kind of female who wore things like that, though. It was modest enough, with the off-shoulder sleeves that revealed freckled skin and delicate collarbones without even a hint of cleavage. The bodice was tight, the sides embroidered in gold flowers that made it seem as if her waist was pulled in smaller, creating the illusion of real curves.

She’d pulled her hair off her face with the pearl combs Lucien had given her as a show of good faith given how nice he’d been over the last few days. Not friendly, exactly, but nicer than he’d been since they’d met. He was looking at her when he spoke to her, which felt like a major improvement.

She hadn’t seen him yet, though the night was still early—plenty of time for Lucien to embarrass her yet. 

Floating through the throngs of people, the smell of sticky pastries and wine in the air, Elain tried to find Ayla. Her friend had sworn she’d be there, as had Tanwen after a lot of cajoling and pleading. 

Who will dance with me? she’d asked, making her eyes big and round. Tanwen, unused to being manipulated by a female, had folded almost immediately though he’d grumbled that he didn’t dance. Not with her, perhaps—but someone else? Elain didn’t believe he was above courting entirely given the rumors she’d heard floating around.

The Vanserra’s had a reputation and if Elain had to guess, she’d bet she was one of the few people left that had no idea what it was like to be underneath one.

“There you are,” Lucien’s warm voice murmured as his fingers brushed the tops of her shoulder. Elain turned and immediately wished she hadn’t. Lucien had asked what color she was wearing and Elain had said red and yet somehow, he’d managed to coordinate his jacket to the exact shade of her dress.

Fuck him, she thought privately as she took in the well-tailored fabric fitted to his broad, muscular chest. His boots gleamed beneath the faelights, cut up to his knees before giving way to black pants that showed off powerful thighs. He wore a gold band around his ring finger and he’d half braided his hair off his face much like Elain had done with the combs. He looked…he looked good.

Beautiful, even, in a roguish kind of way. 

“Were you looking for me?” Elain asked, noting that Lucien was looking at her much like she’d just done. His eyes darkened, scent sharpening and oh. This wasn’t a good time for him to realize he was sexually attracted to her. 

Lucien cleared his throat, eyes returning to her face. “It’s our celebration, I figured we ought to be seen together. Happy,” he added with a frown.

Elain couldn’t help her laugh. The whole thing was absurd. “Well, you’re truly selling it.”

Lucien blinked. “Are you going to tell me what this is in service of, now?”

“You don’t believe I’m so incandescently happy?” Elain teased, gaze snagging on the High Lord. She hadn’t expected Beron Vanserra to come, but there he was, arm linked with his wife and brown eyes bright as he listened to her speak. Elain was terrified of Beron and his shows of temper, his violence, and the bruises Elain often caught on Amera’s body when her sleeves slid up her wrists.

And yet here, he was the picture of adoration. Was it possible to love someone you hated? Elain turned, catching her husband also watching with a disdainful expression on his face. He didn’t bother hiding it, and Beron didn’t notice. Elain had heard Beron was preoccupied with Eris and Cadmus, but paid little attention to Connall and Tanwen and practically none at all to Lucien. To Elain, that seemed like a best case scenario, but maybe Lucien resented his fathers disinterest.

Or maybe he resented the way Beron terrorized his family.

She’d never asked, determined not to make it her business. 

Lucien rolled his eyes, returning to their conversation as his fingers skimmed down her spine. He’d been touching her more often—absent gestures she wasn’t certain he was even aware he did. Every time his skin met hers, Elain’s whole body ignited with interest, which prompted her to try, desperately, to avoid his touch. What would Lucien do if he ever caught a whiff of her changing scent?

Elain knew she was on borrowed time, that eventually there would be questions about what they did when they were alone. The expectation of children would begin to arise and Elain would have to bow to the pressure and at least try. It had taken her own parents nearly five decades to conceive Nesta and Elain expected it would take her just as long, even if she and Lucien put themselves on a strict schedule.

What was worse was the thought that she might enjoy it. The vision persisted, lingering in her mind as it taunted. 

You could be happy if you made different choices.

Lucien's fingers stilled at the small of her back, as though he realized how far he’d drifted and knew he was in danger. 

“Tell me the truth,” Lucien murmured, leading the two of them through the throngs of people dancing to soft music played by musicians seated in elegant chairs. Cool air blew in from the open windows and some brave souls donned cloaks before sneaking out toward the garden for a moment alone. 

Elain would bet that's where Feyre was. 

“We deserve a little celebration, Lucien,” she said, turning abruptly for the garden just to see what her sister was doing. The last thing she needed was for Eris to find Feyre poking through something and start an international incident like that one time Feyre had been permitted to join their father in Winter. 

“Elain—”

“Why does it bother you?” she asked without malice, letting him trail after her as they made their way into the dark. A pillar half hid a couple furiously kissing, the smell of salt and desire half choking Elain. Lucien coughed, for all the good it did—the pair broke apart to look at them before deciding they didn’t care if they had an audience. Elain scurried toward the grounds when the male dropped to his knees, head ducking beneath a skirt. Behind her, Lucien muttered something she couldn’t quite make out, though it sounded disapproving. 

“What if I wanted to help whatever scheme you’re currently working through?” he responded, jogging up beside her. “Did that occur to you?”

Elain’s steps slowed. It hadn’t. “I’m trying to set up your brother.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Which one?”

“Tanwen.”

He laughed, which annoyed her. “What?”

“Tanwen? Elain, if you want to set him up, you need to hide her in the woods for him to find.”

“He said he’d dance,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she faced off with Lucien. The grass was damp, the wet bleeding through the soft fabric of her shoes. Unlike Lucien who had layers beneath his jacket, Elain merely had the thin fabric of her gown. Lucien looked warm, and some part of her wanted to close the distance between them and fold herself against his body.

“Did you use your feminine wiles on him? Poor Tanwen,” Lucien teased, poking her in the stomach. 

Elain scented something strange just as she was about to retort—sea salt and citrus, wholly out of place in the Autumn wood. Lucien, too, caught the scent of it, his eyes flicking up over Elain’s head as one hand came out to half pull her against his body. She’d been right—Lucien was warm. 

A moment later, Feyre Archeron appeared looking dazed and pale. Elain’s sister had merely stepped out of a rip in the world, trailing star-flecked shadows behind her as she went. There was no one with her—just Feyre, who could apparently winnow. Elain had never known that. 

“Are you okay?” Elain asked when Feyre passed. Her sister started, eyes bright like the moon.

“Of course,” she said, her tone strangely breathless. “I was…lost.”

“Lost.” Lucien repeated, his tone rich with disbelief. “Where were you going?”

“I…out,” Feyre finally said, practically floating away from them. Both Elain and Lucien watched and she suspected if she’d turned to look at him, they’d be wearing matching expressions of confusion.

“That…was strange,” Lucien finally said, releasing Elain from his grip. She took a step away on instinct, desperate for a breath of air not tainted by the soft, masculine scent of him. “Is she always like that?”

Elain wanted to assure him that Feyre wasn’t, but… “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. It was pretty par for the course for Feyre to slip off and keep secrets about her magic. If Feyre could winnow and hadn’t told anyone, it was for a reason. Elain certainly wasn’t going to divulge that information.

“Come on,” Lucien murmured, and she swore when she looked at him, a faint glow emanating off the edges of his skin. She blinked and it was gone, fading to a memory she couldn’t quite recall. Had she seen it? Or had she merely imagined it? 

“You’re shivering,” Lucien added when Elain didn’t move, reaching for her once again. He couldn’t keep touching her—he was wearing down her resolve. One of these days Lucien might put his hands on her and she’d thank him for it.

Something in her wanted to make him work harder, even if it was inevitable. She wanted to like him, at least, before he took her clothes off her. And more than that, Elain wanted Lucien to like her, too. She was certain he didn’t—not really. What she found gazing back at her when she looked at him was merely acceptance. He’d made his peace with this marriage, something he should have done the moment he found himself standing at the priestesses altar, and was ready to get on with things. 

Elain followed Lucien back into the bright, dizzying warmth, eyes scanning the room for both her sisters and Tanwen. She found Ayla, dressed in rich burgundy chatting with a male whose name escaped her. She saw Connall leaned against a pillar holding court while a semi-circle of females laughed at something undoubtedly stupid he’d said.

Cadmus and Eris patrolled the edges of the room, talking among themselves even as Eris’s eyes continued to slide to his mate, giggling with some of the females that routinely came to Ayla’s card games.

But no Tanwen. Lucien must have realized it, too, because his fingers brushed the back of her hand. “Told you.” It was the wrong thing to say to her right then. His touch, combined with her own confusing mix of emotions, caused a rush of anger to flood through her. Elain’s attraction to him, the closeness of his body, the way she swore she saw him looking at her at times—all of it was too much.

“That was uncalled for,” she hissed, grateful when he didn’t follow behind her. Elain didn’t turn to look at him, either.

She knew he was watching.

She could feel it.

LUCIEN:

“You’re an asshole,” Lucien began, snatching the weapon from his brothers hand before Tanwen could take a swing. Tanwen turned, brows raised. 

“For what?”

“You told Elain you’d dance with her,” Lucien reminded him, almost telling his brother the truth of the matter. Lucien very much doubted Elain would be forgiving if she learned he’d messed up her little plan—even if Lucien thought it was ridiculous. 

Tanwen blew out a breath. “I don’t dance.”

“It was one dance.”

“You dance with her,” Tanwen retorted, reaching for the axe but Lucien held it just out of reach. They were matched for height and likely matched in strength, though Lucien knew from experience that if Tanwen wanted to hurt him, it would be relatively easy for him to do so. In his youth, he’d tried to take on all his brothers to disastrous results. Besides, if he limped back into the house with a bruised eye and busted lip, Elain would know that he’d been meddling to help her.

It might make her like him a little better…and Lucien didn’t want her to know he was trying as hard as he was. He couldn’t explain it—call it petulance, call it his own inner angst, but Lucien wanted Elain to simply wake up one day desperate and needy from the bond and court him a little, too.

“You made a promise,” Lucien pressed, tossing the axe to the damp, leafy ground beside his brother. 

“I fucking hate that shit,” Tanwen snapped, running a hand over his messy hair. “The people, the noise, I—” he took a breath. “I tried, alright? But someone tried to talk to me and I couldn’t do it. If you want me to make it up to your wife, though—”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Lucien warned, temper flaring. Lucien was coming to the realization that he likely couldn’t spend another month sleeping in the same bed as his mate without touching her. He toyed with the idea of creating some kind of bargain between them in which he was allowed to have her in the evenings and she could do whatever she liked with the rest of her time. But Lucien’s treacherous mind betrayed him, conjuring images of her taking a lover and he became restless and angry all over again. In his mind, Lucien was allowed to have her however he wanted her, but ultimately bore no responsibility toward her as he figured out his own feelings.

To make matters worse, every time he pictured Elain, his guilty thoughts bled Jesminda into the image until Lucien was frustrated with himself—Jesminda had told him to move on. Move on. It was taking too long, the heartbreak making a fool out of him. How did people get over it? Did they ever? 

Or maybe you’re scared you’ll move on and be fine, a traitor's voice whispered in his mind. Maybe you’re afraid you’d be happy if you let yourself.

“Shut up,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Tawnen glanced at Lucien, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset Elain,” Tanwen conceded, though he didn’t look too shamed. “I’ll make it up to her.” Lucien doubted it, though, given his wife was very much trying to set Tanwen up. He trusted she’d find some new little scheme to put them back in the same room. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the thought of Elain trying to set Tanwen up amused him, if only because Tanwen was the most oblivious of the bunch. If he had his way, he’d abandon court entirely for some cottage in the woods and live entirely off the land. Tanwen would have thrived as governor of the rural counties of Autumn, though that post belonged to Connall, technically.

Beron sent Tanwen to their biggest port city and forced him to oversee the people there, knowing Tanwen hated the politics just as he knew counting crops bored Connall to tears. It wasn’t about learning anything, either. He simply liked making his sons suffer for his amusement. Lucien wasn’t allowed any leadership positions—Beron said he didn’t have enough cities, though Lucien knew that Beron simply didn’t like him and did not want to nurture any potential High Lord qualities in Lucien that might unseat Eris or Cadmus. 

Lucien left Tanwen to his weapons, meandering even when he knew where he was going. He wanted the pretense of stumbling upon her, of seeing her with her hair tied off her face with a pink bandana, hands buried in soil. Lucien found her dressed in a rich purple, hem pooled around her knees as she plunged a little trowel into the earth.

She wore his gloves. Lucien’s heart raced at the sight of them, once tossed carelessly in a drawer along with everything else. She’d worn his combs the night before, his gloves today…Lucien took a breath. Elain was softening. Maybe he could bend a little, too. Pushing open the gate, Lucien made his way toward her.

“Planting?” he asked, noting the bed of weeds had been cleared out of the space. It must have taken her hours to do it.

Elain glanced up, a bead of sweat sliding down her brow. He wanted to taste it. “Your brothers helped clear this place out,” she said sweetly, rising up to sit on her heels. “It’s made things go faster.”

“What are you planting?”

“Here? Aster,” she said, showing him the little trays of budding plants she’d clearly been growing herself. “I’ve mapped it all out. Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming close enough their knees brushed when he lowered himself to the ground. Elain pulled out a little journal and a rolled up piece of paper that she spread out for him.

Lucien recognized Cadmus’ work, sketched out beside Elain’s looping, pretty handwriting. 

“Your brother painted it for me,” Elain admitted, running her fingers over the pretty watercolors that graced the page. I showed him my layout and he put it together.

“We should frame this when you’re finished,” Lucien murmured, thinking it really was lovely. 

Elain’s eyes were bright. “Really?”

He didn’t like that creeping hope in her voice—her belief that he wasn’t a kind male, and didn’t care about her at all. It wasn’t true, though Lucien knew he’d done very little to disabuse her of the notion.

“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Elain tucked a curl behind her ear. “It’s just a garden, it’s not as if—”

“It’s important,” Lucien interrupted, tone gentle but firm. “Beautiful, too.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, eyes slipping back to the ground. “That’s…thank you, Lucien.”

“Can I help?” he asked, deciding to push his luck. What did it hurt, he reasoned, to try and get to know his wife? His mate? 

Biting her bottom lip, Elain nodded. “That would be nice.”

“I saw Tanwen this morning,” Lucien said, adopting a lighter, more gossipy tone. Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Did you tell him he ruined my night?” Elain demanded with a grin. “Winston occupied nearly all of Ayla’s time.”

“Winston,” Lucien grumbled, though in truth he had no issue with the lord. Winston was perfectly polite, in a bland kind of way. He was the kind of male Ayla could boss around and dominate, which wasn’t the worst position to be in given how Autumn viewed females. It was the closest thing to autonomy Ayla could hope for.

“Right?” Elain agreed, taking one of the little plants from him to nestle it gently in the dirt. “He’s so…”

“Agreed,” Lucien replied, heart thudding in his throat. “Could I offer you some advice?”

“Please,” she replied, eyes darting to him again. The urge to push her into the dirt and cover her mouth with his own reared through him with an intensity so hot that Lucien could feel his cock stir in his pants. 

Calm yourself, he ordered. 

“Consider an activity that Tanwen is interested in.”

“Like what?”

“What is the game you, Arina, and Ayla are always organizing on the lawn?”

“It’s a bit like tag, but less rough,” Elain admitted, cheeks flushing again.

“So why not a larger game?” Lucien suggested, mind racing with possibilities. “Or, perhaps something more akin to hide and seek. That could be romantic.”

Elain’s brows raised. “You’re quite clever.”

He grinned. “I’ll take the compliment.”

“How would we ensure we get them alone?”

“Easy enough. You and I will hide somewhere together—somewhere only I know,” Lucien added, his heart picking up again. He knew the exact tree he’d put her in, ancient and hollowed out by a High Lords son long since dead. Lucien had spent years hiding there as a child, reading and writing and otherwise daydreaming about more interesting adventures. With Elain, the space would feel smaller…perhaps he’d take the opportunity to truly touch her. Run his knuckles over her cheek, his nose along the curve of her neck.

“And Arina?”

Lucien snorted. “Eris won’t be able to help himself.”

Elain wrinkled her nose, scrunching the little freckles adorably. “Ew.”

“And Tanwen considers himself an expert tracker. Finding Ayla will be easiest, because she won’t be masked by another male's scent. And maybe, once they’re alone…”

Elain clapped her hands in front of her chest, giving him an excuse to look at the soft swell of her breasts. Elain was far too appealing, mate or not, and Lucien had the sinking suspicion he’d want her even without the cord currently wrapped around his throat. 

Squashing his guilt, Lucien took a breath. 

Unaware of his inner torment, Elain offered him a smile. “Okay. I like this plan—give me a few days to put it together so it seems natural and not too suspicious.”

“Naturally.”

“And you’ll join?”

“Nothing would amuse me more than to see Tanwen fall prey to the very court scheming he loathes.”

“You make it sound so sinister. I merely want him to find happiness,” she said, unaware that Ayla was the kind of female Tanwen had made a habit of ignoring. He could see her with Cadmus, perhaps, if Cadmus ever deigned to smile or have a moment of fun. Connall was too busy fucking his way through Prythian to ever consider a wife and truthfully, was likely to make someone very unhappy given how little he thought of commitment. 

“And you think Ayla is his happiness?” Lucien questioned.

Elain only shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Lucien began digging out Elain’s next chalk mark as she carefully replanted, not willing to look at her. “I suppose not,” he murmured, feeling as if she were speaking to him as well. You’re not trying at all, he swore her voice accused which wasn’t true. He’d given her gifts, hadn’t he? He was sitting outside despite the biting chill, hands without gloves, dirt gathering beneath his nails. 

Lucien wondered if she couldn’t sense his hesitation, his indecision. What did she feel? He was desperate to know. Experimentally, he pulled on the bond just to see what she’d do. Elain’s brow furrowed, hand flying to her chest to rub.

“Are you well?” he asked. Tell me you feel what I feel.

“I may have strained myself,” she admitted, hand falling to her lap. “Or perhaps I’m coming down with something.”

Lucien bit back his sigh. She felt it, but didn’t realize what was happening. Perhaps that was a blessing, then. He wondered if the snapping had felt different for her, or had been masked by her other emotions, lost to the swirl of fear and anxiety. How did he tell her without upsetting her? Could he? 

“You should take it easier,” he murmured, unsure how she’d even go about doing that. “Rest more.”

Elain bit her bottom lips, gaze far away. “I feel like all I do is rest. I garden, I go about with my friends, I eat, I sleep. Hardly exerting.” Interesting. “What would you like to be doing, then?”

She considered this, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Travel?”

Lucien’s whole body tightened. Was that it? His disbelief must have shown on his face because she quickly added, “I heard the continent had tulip fields as big as a sea.”

“I’ve never seen them,” he admitted, mind racing, “I’d like to, though.”

“Maybe we could go?” she suggested.

Lucien resisted the urge to crush her against him. “Whatever you like.”

It was a start.

[eventinelysplayground]

A Mother's Touch

It's March 5 today and we know what that means, it's the 1st princes Birthday! So Happy Birthday to him and here is a story for it. I'd like to say this is a happy story but that wasn't the inspo I had so, it's one that will hit you in the feels. That said if you're currently grieving a more recent death maybe give it a skip for now. Jin remembers the last birthday that he had with his mother. WC approx 688.

The last of the snow had finally vanished leaving the ground muddy and cold. Down a worn path walked a single figure one hand shoved into his pocket and a bouquet of flowers in the other. The figure came to a halt in the corner of a mass grave before a tiny tombstone.

“Hi Mom, I brought these for you.”

Jin knelt down and placed the flowers gingerly beside the tombstone before sighing and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

“I know I haven't come to see you in a while but things have been a little busy lately. How about I get comfy and tell you all about it?”

Jin took off his coat and set it on the ground then took a seat on it bringing his knees up and resting his arms across them.

“Emma had the baby a few months ago, he has her eyes and my hair. Louder than his big brother and sister were though that's for sure, biggest appetite too!

Emma's doing just fine, it amazes me every time you know? She told me once she wanted to get stronger for me and boy did she ever!”

A tender smile spread across Jin's face as he talked. He talked for quite a while telling his Mom about anything that came to mind but especially about her grandchildren and daughter in law and just how happy he was.

Jin came to a lull in his update and laced his fingers together while looking up at the clear sky. After several minutes of silence he cleared his throat and resumed.

“Hey Mom? I actually had a specific reason for coming here today. See I haven't been doing so well these last few days, Emma noticed of course and we thought maybe me coming to see you would help. Now don't worry, nothing's wrong with any of us, it's just….”

Jin trailed off staring silently into the sky, his mouth feeling oddly dry.

“It was Emmett's birthday yesterday Mom, his sixth birthday. It was a great party, Emma made his cake while Yves made everything else. The kid had such a feast and he was surrounded by his family and friends. I should have been happy but, it got me thinking about the last birthday I had with you. Do you remember it Mom?”

Jin finally looked back down at the tiny gravestone, a sad fondness lighting up his eyes.

“You had already gotten sick by then. I was so worried about you I wasn't even thinking about my birthday but you remembered it for me. Even back then I could charm the ladies real well, the old lady I helped out most of the day paid me a bit extra so I got bread and cheese that night to eat. I got home and you were sitting up in bed with a big smile on your face. You praised me for all my hard work as I told you about my day over dinner.

Then when we were done eating you pulled out a handkerchief tied with a bow and handed it to me. I don't know how I looked but I must have looked pretty confused because you laughed at me, told me ‘don't just stare at it sweety open it’. There was a lollipop inside it, a big blue one. I remember I was amazed at its color. Then you drew me into the biggest hug and told me ‘Happy Birthday my sweet boy’ while smiling at me.”

Jin's voice cracked on those last words as his tears threatened to spill over.

“That night was the most I had seen you smile in a long time and it made that lollipop taste so much sweeter.”

Jin reached out and rested a big hand on top of the tiny gravestone.

“I wish you could be here with us, but since you can't I'll just keep making sure that Emma and our kids get to have the life you and I never did.”

Jin’s tears fell silently and for the briefest moment he could swear he felt his mother's gentle touch wiping them away.