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dellalyra · 1 year

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FAMILY FORMATION - PART SIXTEEN

Summary: Begrudging (but not really) Uncle Nanami, and some of his moments with the family. Request from @psychicai ‘uncle Nanami - uncle to the gojo baby and/ or begrudging uncle to the other 10 adopted gojos’

CW: heartwarming, nice memories, mentions of Geto’s absconding, pregnancy, babies, Satoru gojo and how much he loves his wife

A/N: shout-out to @psychicai for this idea and how much SUPPORT they pour my way ily also this is HAPPY TIMES NO SADNESS EVER HAS HAPPENED EVER NO.

MASTERLIST

FREEZEFRAME ONE

“I’m sorry, I think I’ve misheard you, Gojo brought home what?” The tall blonde leaning on your counter asks.

“Children.” You reply.

“Children?”

“Toji Fushiguro’s children.” You respond, setting a glass of whiskey beside him.

He’s silent for a beat.

“To do what with exactly?” Nanami replies.

“Oh, we’re thinking of a Hansel and Gretel situation.” You smirk in response.

He raises his eyebrow at you.

“We’re hoping to raise them, Kento. They’ve nobody – the boy has the Zen’in technique, Toji sold him to the clan – so Satoru stepped in.” You respond, shrugging.

Silence again. You continue to potter around the kitchen, it’s 5 pm on a Friday and you had been starting dinner when Nanami arrived.

“Well. Fuck. If this was just Gojo I’d ask if you knew what you were doing, and tell you that it’s crazy but, it’s you too. Y/N, I know you’d do anything for him, follow him to the edge of the universe but – you two are only 19 and fuck, now Geto’s gone - you’re the two most powerful sorcerers in the world.” He says, crossing his arms as he sits at the dining table.

You freeze at Geto’s name. The wound was still fresh and gaping in your chest. This was the first time someone had verbalised it so casually, but of course, it would be Nanami.

“I – we, know what we’re doing, don’t worry Kento. Geto is… part of the driving force being the decision. We want to shape the jujutsu world afresh, healthy and stronger and that will be done through the next generation. Satoru’s been asked to teach and school and I’ve already taken the job. We want – we wanna prevent more sweet kids being butchered by this world.” You say, holding your weight against the counter.

“Well – and don’t tell him I said this – if there’s anyone out there capable of doing this, it’s you two.” He says, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He looks different, you notice. Not only is the signature haircut gone but he’s wearing a shirt and tie.

“Thank you, Kento. They’re good kids, really good. Megumi – he will be an incredible sorcerer. His sister Tsumiki has no cursed energy – but she’s a very bright young girl, and so precious. Satoru and I were saying that between him and me and you and Shoko, we have all the tools and balls to reshape jujutsu sorcery from the inside out. Imagine it – you could be Principal Nanami!” You giggle, imagining the bright future you all had together.

“Ah. Well. That’s part of the reason I’m here.” He says, settling down his glass.

“Oh god Kento, what, you gonna go commit some genocide and steal twin girls too?” Dark humour. Fresh sounds are being poked at.

“I’m leaving the sorcery world, Y/N. I’m going to university, then I’m getting a job. I can’t be part of that shit society anymore. The whole thing, I respect none of it.”

Your turn for silence.

“Are you sure?” Your voice cracks as you ask.

“I am.”

“Then, okay. I’m – proud of you Kento. I hope you know though, leaving jujutsu sorcery behind - doesn’t mean you’re leaving us! You can leave the six eyes and the Y/L/N heir, but not Sian and Satoru!” The tears in your eyes are pushed back with quick blinks.

The sounds of three pairs of footsteps echo through your hall – and if that hadn’t been sign enough that Satoru and the two kids were home then the ‘Oh honey! I’m home!” definitely was.

An immediate eye roll from Nanami ensues as you jump from your chair and fling your arms around your boyfriend's neck and pepper kisses on his face.

“Welcome home, ‘tour! Hi kids! How was school?” You say, letting Tsumiki hug your waist and tentatively patting Megumi on the head.

“Hi Y/N! It was fun! We had art today; I made a paper-mâché turtle!” Tsumiki says rummaging through her bag.

“That’s so fun Tsumiki! What about you Megumi?” You kneel at the boy's level.

“Fine, I guess.” He shrugs and then furrows his brow in Satoru’s direction.

“Okay, why are you mad at Satoru now?” You ask, lightheartedly.

“He keeps calling me a short stack. And he’s a dumbass.” The six-year-old replies.

At this, indignation from the white-haired man and a snort and a ‘here here’ from the blonde at the table.

“Satoru, stop calling him short-stack and Megumi, don’t call Satoru a dumbass.” You wipe the dust off your knees as you rise.

“Now kids, this is Nanami Kento. He’s one of our best friends. Megumi, he also thinks Satoru’s a dumbass, so you’ll get along great!” You announce to the room, sitting back down at the table.

Satoru emerges changed into a sweatshirt and sweatpants and you can’t ignore the swell in your heart.

The domesticity of the scene was so warm and cosy you almost felt tired.

“Tsumiki, Megumi. Pleased to meet you both.” He waves a hand towards the two kids who’ve placed themselves at the table too, with snacks and strawberry milk.

Megumi scowls slightly, ever wary of strangers. Tsumiki waves back, ever polite.

“We’re pleased to meet you too, Uncle Nanami!” She speaks.

Satoru immediately begins to cackle laughing at Nanami being called the kids’ uncle, and you elbow him.

Nanami just quirks an eyebrow and thinks it’s fantastic how quickly these two have taken to you both. It’s clear in how Tsumiki is pleased to chatter with Satoru and giggles at his silly antics and how Megumi shares an animal cracker with you and scoots slightly closer to you when feeling particularly exposed.

“So, what grade are you both in?” Kento asks as you rise to retrieve the lasagna from the oven.

FREEZEFRAME TWO

“Okay! I think that’s everything! Tsumiki sleeps in the dark, but she’s 10 and is kinda like a self-cleaning oven. Megumi sleeps with this nightlight, but don’t mention it, just plug it in and leave, his frog stuffy is in his bag too! I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Satoru speaks.

“Yes,” Nanami replies.

“Nanaminnnnnnnn! You’re meant to say ‘No Satoru I know you’re nervous but you’re doing great! You’re so amazing! Uncle Nanamin will take care of these darling cherubs while you hopefully change your life forever” Satoru says as he dramatically shakes Nanami’s shoulders.

Kento is unimpressed.

“Satoru. You’re being fucking ridiculous.”

“Not quite but you’ve got the spirit!”

And with that, Satoru strides into Nanami’s living room.

“Children! Be the absolute best tonight for your dearest Uncle Nanamin, and Tsumiki don’t let Nanamin around Megumi too much – they might form an anti-Satoru club and my poor heart just couldn’t take it, my two favourite men, hanging up against me! My best friends!”

Tsumiki giggles and agrees but her face turns deadly serious.

“Papa. Do you have everything?” She asks.

“Run me a checklist, assistant.” He replies crouching down to her height.

“Snacks?”

“Check.”

“Including all mom’s favourites?”

“Check.”

“The CD mixtape you made?”

“Check.”

“Um… Oh! Do you know what to say? Did you write it down?”

“Check and no, don’t need to.”

“Okay! Then I think that’s everything!”

“No, it’s not.” Comes with a voice hidden behind a Nintendo.

Three heads turn to the spikey-haired boy’s blue eyes visible over the screen.

A gasp from Tsumiki is followed by,

“What did I forget to list?!” She asks, almost frantic.

“The ring,” Megumi replies.

Another gasp from Tsumiki.

Satoru only smirks, he knew Megumi was excited about what was happening – it was obvious in the way he never left the room and even put his book down when Satoru and Tsumiki would go over plans. He liked this idea. That’s how he showed it.

He pulls a small dark blue velvet box from inside his coat pocket and flicks the gold clasp open. In the box, stood the item in question. The most stunningly beautiful, antique ring. Small and dainty in size, the gold filigree art deco setting with the most brilliant marquise cut diamond with two tiny sapphires beside them, it was just so you.

After shouts of good luck (they knew he wouldn’t need it, you were his the day he met you) Satoru says his goodbyes to the kids. Nanami walks him out, stopping him at the door.

He hands him a bottle of champagne.

“For when she says yes.” He says as he nods at him.

Satoru’s eyes sparkled and darted to Nanami.

“You’re sure she will?” He asks. This a rare moment of pure vulnerability from this man who needs his best friend's advice on proposing to his girlfriend. No six eyes. No sorcery. No 7:3 or salaries. Just two men, one hopelessly in love and the other quietly rooting for them for the last 4 years.

“Satoru. Of course, she will, you two have always been inevitable, it’s obvious to everyone. Now – go, get out of my house or you will be late for your engagement.” He says, shoving the taller man’s shoulders.

“Thank you Nanaminnnnnn! If we don’t ring tonight - don’t get worried! We will be otherwise engaged, haha! Get it?”

“Go, Satoru.”

FREEZEFRAME THREE

“So, Megumi – who do you want at your graduation dinner?” You ask – planning a family meal for the following week when Megumi graduated elementary school.

He shrugs.

“Uncle Nanami and Aunt Shoko I guess.” As hyper-verbal and enthusiastic as ever.

So you shoot off two texts telling them, not asking, that they’re coming for dinner on Friday night to celebrate.

At the graduation ceremony, you in a pretty white and blue dress and Satoru in a white button down and slacks wait with the two kids – Megumi scowling at his classmates and Tsumiki speaking to some of the older siblings, you spot Nanami’s car parking and he opens the passenger door for Shoko. The two make their way up the steps with Nanami in tan slacks and a grey shirt and Shoko in a navy pantsuit.

“There they are! Megumi, Tsumiki look it’s Uncle Nanamin and Aunty Koko!” Satoru points at the two arrivals.

He receives a quick thwack on the back of the head from Shoko who abhors the nickname, and she then leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hiya Kento! Thank you two so much for coming today! We’ll go back to ours for dinner after if that’s still good with you guys. The ceremony is only 30 minutes. Between you and me, once Megumi has been up there we’re probably gonna bounce so he doesn’t scare the teachers.”

“Congratulations, Megumi.” Kento nods and pats the boy’s shoulder, then hands him a black box. Megumi raises his eyebrows at you silently asking if he can open it and you nod in encouragement. Inside the box is a black leather wallet, with M.F stamped into it.

“A wallet is a sign of a grown man, now, Megumi. Get a copy of Satoru’s black card and put it in there.” Nanami says, nodding to the boy whose chest has puffed out at being considered a ‘grown man’.

“Here you go, kid.” Shoko opens her wallet and pulls out a ¥5000 note and puts it into his hand. “Don’t spend it on girls or booze.”

“Jesus Shoko he’s 12.” You sigh at her, with a huff of laughter following.

“Hey Megs, you should ask Aunty Koko about how she got through school! Then do everything the exact opposite because she cheated her way into being a Doctor!” Satoru giggles and skips off to grab Tsumiki.

“How do you deal with him, Y/N?” Kento asks.

“Selective hearing.” You respond, but the truth was you dealt with him easily – given that he was one half of your soul.

The doorbell rings and you skip to the door, opening it to see the tall blonde salaryman waiting.

You fling your arms around his neck for a hug.

“Hiya Kento!”

Since Nanami had left sorcery, you and him had set up a standing plan that every second Thursday he would come over to the cottage and you would have Kooking with Kento, as Satoru had named it much to your delight.

On tonight’s menu was a delicious asparagus and lemon risotto, you two would always cook together with Satoru and occasionally the kids taking part from the table. Tsumiki would help you stir sometimes, but Megumi had proven himself as useful as Satoru in the kitchen so they were relegated to the table.

You loved these nights, you and Kento had always been close since you had gone on his first mission with him – your warmth and care as his senior was the foundation for the fact you act like his big sister. He never seemed as bothered by your chaotic energy as he was by Satoru’s – even though you were two sides of the same coin. He acted like he didn’t, but he truly cared for Satoru too, he’d also never admit it, but he was his best friend and 3 years ago when Satoru had very elaborately asked him to be his best man – he was very honoured. Hell, he’d even managed some vaguely complimentary things in his speech. Megumi also found a kindred spirit in Kento, he would speak to him about what he had been reading, and complain about Gojo to him, he was also definitely his favourite babysitter. Now at 13, entering the teen years – Nanami was beginning to be one of the only people who he could stand to be around. The last time he’d been in a fight, Nanami had pulled him aside and told him the correct way to launch his first to prevent bruising on your knuckles – you had heard even though you weren’t mean to. You hadn’t said anything, but you did think to yourself that it’s no wonder Nanami and Satoru were friends.

At the table that night, with food put away and the kids gone to bed, Nanami says he wishes to speak to you both.

“I’ve made the decision, that the 9 to 5 life is shit. Jujutsu sorcery is also shit, so in this case I’m choosing the one I am most adept at and so I will be returning to sorcery. I –” He was immediately cut off by your squeals and Satoru’s cheering and rendition of Return of the Mack but changing it to Nanamin. He just sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose at the fact his closest friends were you two and a woman chain smoking over cadavers and wondered what the hell he did wrong in a past life.

“Oh we’ll get to see you so much more! There’s an empty office beside Satoru’s, I’m in another building but still close by! We can all have lunch together!” You clap your hands and look to Satoru who is equally as delighted.

“I won’t be teaching. I’m returning to active missions.”

More cheering ensues.

It goes on for a while.

Kento is tired.

FREEZEFRAME FOUR

You lay on the hospital bed, Satoru almost on top of you, head tucked into your neck as you snuggled into him – tears on both your faces.

Shoko had left the room to give you both some space, standing in the hall she hears footsteps approaching – neat and fast.

Kento Nanami appears at the end of the hallway and as he approaches her a loud laugh and a giggle escape from the room behind her.

“Is that Y/N and Gojo? Why are they here, they have no active missions as far as I’m aware and it’s summer holidays?” He asks her, as her lips curl into a smile around her lit cigarette, she holds out her hand as he passes her the papers – he was here for her sign off on his monthly physical.

“Knock and ask ‘em yourself, Ken.” She shrugs her head toward the room.

He nods and tales the paperwork back.

He knocks on the door as your voice rings out telling him to come in.

“Nanaminnnnnnn!!! You’re here too! How awesome is this!” Satoru says, still not moving from his spot glued to you.

Your eyes are sparkling with glistening tears but your smile was lit up with the widest smile directed at your husband – eyes filled with pure love.

“Is everything alright? Is someone unwell?” He asks.

You giggle and swing your legs off the side of the table so Satoru can sit beside you and he wraps his arms around you middle and nuzzles into your shoulder.

“That would be me, but only every morning.” You hint.

Kento then notices the way you seem to glow and the placement of Satoru’s hand, protectively splayed across your lower belly.

Then it clicks.

“Shit – are you pregnant, Y/N?” He asks, aghast at the situation he didn’t expect to walk into today.

You nod and smile and Satoru raises his head.

“I’m gonna be a papa again! More babies for you uncle Nanamin!”

Kento can’t even bring himself to chastise him right now, the aura of joy surrounding you both is too beautiful to burst.

“Have you just found out?” He asks, a small smile on his lips.

“Satoru notices their cursed energy today, so we warped straight here. Who needs a pregnancy test when your husband is one, huh?!” You high five the man beside you.

“Of course I’d be the first to see it, I put it in there!” This makes you throw your head back and Nanami shake his.

“Christ. A combination of you both. I’ll be grey by the time the child turns one.” He smirks.

In truth, he couldn’t have been happier for you both. You’d both done a great job with Megumi and Tsumiki, your attachment obvious at your constant quest to wake Tsumiki up since we sank into her slumber a year ago. More than anything though, he could not think of two people more deserving of welcoming a new little light into the world. The love you both share and the depth of the bond often renders Kento speechless. Seeing you both, was enough proof for the eternal skeptic to wholeheartedly believe that soulmates exist and you two were made to be together by whatever hand guides the earth. He will continue to joke about the combination of you both leading him to insanity given your chaotic nature and well, Satoru but he knew while all of that was true and the child would be as boisterous and wild as they come – the child would also be the most caring, bravest, most passionate, fearless and a true force to be reckoned with. Your love could create all that, and he was privileged to bear witness – and to later, be named godfather of Akio Ryu Tadashi Gojo.

FREEZEFRAME FIVE

A Thursday came about, and Kento walked up to the sage green door of the Gojo cottage. He heard voices inside and figured Satoru must have gotten home early – you were still on maternity leave and Satoru was coming home very early each day to see his wife and baby boy. Megumi was in school now, so he lived on campus.

He knocked and not 10 seconds later the door opened revealing you with the baby on your hip.

“Kento! Yay you’re here, and you brought wine. You are my lifesaver. I’ve had to get extra, because we’ve extra mouth to feed tonight.” You say, kissing his cheek and wandering back to the kitchen.

He follows you and your large wooden kitchen table is overflowing with people – the source of the voices.

Megumi, Nobara and Yuuji sit with Satoru at the table.

“Hello Nanaminnnnn!” came in perfect synch from Gojo and Yuuji. That was followed by a ‘Hello Nanami-San!” from Nobara and a wave from Megumi and a babble from Akio. He greets them all in return as Akio makes grabby hands towards his father and Satoru lifts him delighted from your arms, before settling him on his lap to play with the small panda plushy in his hands. The kids all coo at Akio and Kento then notices the dog, large and black and fluffy asleep by Megumi’s feet.

“The kids are all exhausted and a bit shaken from the exchange event last week, so ‘toru gave them the day off tomorrow so they can stay here for the weekend.” You say quietly. He’s reminded that under layers of bravado Satoru truly loves these kids – not just as his adopted son and students, but truly all three of them as part of he and his wife’s formed family.

“I did bolognaise for dinner tonight, and we’ve chocolate cake. But first things first, here’s a corkscrew Kento – crack that thing open. The grown ups want a glass of wine.”

He does as requested and marvels at the scene in front of him, you kiss the head of his godson and the lips of his best friend as you pass them whispering how handsome your boys are to them both, then mention to Nobara you bought some new nail varnish to try later as you pass her, then ruffle both the teens boys hair as you move past them and weigh in on their debate over the best Pokémon in the new game.

He might complain, but he’s happy to be Uncle Nanamin to this wonderful puzzle piece family.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #dad!gojo #pixie writes: family formations #nanami kento #nanami x reader #platonic nanami Kento

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jmrothwell · 2 years

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Halloween prompts if you're still taking them!!

"The fact that I'm still single for Halloween sucks" peterpatterlina?

There was no band practice today. Willie had absconded with Alex, stating he was taking his boyfriend on an all day Autumn date. Apple picking at the nearby orchard with all the best apple treats. Followed by a truly awesome sounding haunted corn maze.

Reggie had to commend the two of them. He had always thought this time of year was filled with some of the best fun date potential. It helped that the weather was perfectly cool enough to not feel like you were dying outside.

As Luke workshopped the melodies for a new song they had been working on Reggie found his mind drifting. While he enjoyed the calm evenings where he, Luke, and Julie would just chill in the studio, he was more than a little envious.

Surrounded by couples enjoying the many splendors of the season. And Halloween was right around the corner. With this group’s creativity that meant three awesome couple’s costumes and him. Solo, single, him.

He sighed as he adjusted in his chair, putting his bass to the side. “The fact that I’m still single for Halloween sucks.” He allowed himself the small grumble.

“Wait.” Luke stopped playing so suddenly Reggie was surprised he hadn’t fumbled the chord. “Aren’t you and Julie dating?”

It took a second for Reggie’s brain to fully register what the guitarist had said. He slowly blinked at the boy, who had the audacity to look flummoxed.

Sure, he and Julie had been hanging out more lately. Which was amazing. Just the other day they’d gone to a puppy pumpkin patch.

But their casual hang outs had been just that, casual.

As far as he was aware.

Which was fine. Even if he wanted things to be less casual, less platonic, he would take any time he got with the girl. Just as long as she was happy. That’s all he really ever wanted for either of his crushes. For them to be happy.

It helped that Julie and Luke were obviously so happy and perfect for eachother. Anyone could see how far gone they were for each other. Hell, they’d just gone to that haunted house, one of the best excuses to get clingy with someone. Second only to watching scary movies at home.

So he had decided he would be content with the time and attention they did give him.

“Nooo?” Reggie drew the word out, still blinking owlishly at Luke. “Because you and Julie are.”

Luke gaped and shifted forward, setting his guitar aside. He didn’t get to say anything, though, as Julie returned to the studio. Her haul of snacks quickly deposited onto the table.

“He and Julie are what?” She asked as she joined Luke on the couch, reclining back against the boy so she could still face Reggie in his chair.

“Dating,” Reggie’s hands flailed at the display in front of him, because seriously Luke?

“Julie and I aren’t dating.” Luke had gone pink in the face, his eyes darted between the two of them. Reggie barely heard him though because of what Julie had said at the exact same time.

“I thought you two were dating.” She sat up straighter, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her eyes also darted between him and Luke, who looked even more flummoxed than earlier.

They thought he was already dating one of them?

What was even happening right now! The only reason he hadn’t asked either of them out was because he was so sure they were dating each other.

Luke and Julie’s eyes both went wide as they returned to gaping at him again.

Shit.

He tried to swallow away the stone in his throat. His heart rate skyrocketed as he wiped the clammy feeling of his palms onto his pants.

He’d done the stupid thing where he was thinking out loud again, hadn’t he?

“You’re not stupid.” Julie softly spoke as Luke nodded, seemingly rendered speechless.

“Fuck.” Reggie was certain that one was out loud, with how his throat stung from the cry. His head fell back on the chair, as he tried to hide behind his hands with a groan. This was not how he wanted either of them to find out.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he would have wanted to confess his feelings. Seeing as he never allowed his thoughts to wander that far down the road. But it was definitely not like this and certainly not to both of them at the same time.

He barely registered hushed whispers as his brain continued to spiral.

What if he ruined his chances with both of them now? Did he even have a chance in the first place? They both seemed happy thinking he was dating the other.

“Reggie?” Julie’s voice was bright, as her hands gently moved his from his face. Her brilliant gap-toothed smile greeted him, and there went his heart again. Torn between butterfly fluttering and shattering like glass.

The feeling only got worse as she continued to speak.

“Sweetheart, if you’re open to it, I would love to date the both of you.”

He had totally forgotten that was an option. His heart settled on hopeful fluttering. “You would?”

She nodded and his attention was drawn to Luke who now stood on his other side. His hazel eyes glittered over his bitten off smile. “I would too, for the record. Who wouldn’t want the two of you?”

A heat crawled up Reggie’s neck as his smile grew. They both wanted him, he hadn’t fucked up. He sat up and grasped one of their hands in each of his. “How do you two feel about a classic scary movie marathon tonight for our first date?”

#Halloween prompts #peterpatterlina #jatp prompt fic #I title this #the importance of communication #and not just assuming things #julie and the phantoms

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casitafallz · 2 years

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Abscond AU | Lydia and Pablo Madrigal

Lydia and Pablo are the two children of Abscond Luisa. Unmarried, Luisa fell pregnant after a night of passion with her secret boyfriend, Caden Badillo, on her 17th Birthday where he gifted her a set of metallic bracers he had found.

The Bracers were magical artefacts of the Architect of the Encanto Multiverse, Architect Luisa’s in fact and Luisa put them on the next morning about the time the twin’s conception occurred. The bracers activated and a ping was sent to the Watcher AU of it’s claim. The bracers gifted Luisa at first incredible strength and not all of the bracer’s gifts were yet unlocked given her inexperience with powers as she hadn’t been given a gift at age 5 like Canonical Luisa’s did.

Luisa remained unaware she was pregnant for weeks, the bracers masked most of the symptoms as it was designed to aid her body. In that time, her strength soon made it known to the family and to the town. Her attempts to rekindle a physical relationship with her secret boyfriend ended her accidently breaking a few bones. As a result, they broke up.

Of coruse, Dolores heard the heartbeats soon enough and informed Luisa who wanted to hide the fact to come up with options incase the family reacted badly. Luisa was terrified to disappoint Abuela in her knowing about having premarital sex and Luisa had thought she had done a good job on drinking her family’s ‘special’ teas that were their contraceptives.

Of coruse, the truth did come out and there were weeks of debate. Luisa ultimately decided to leave than live with the discord of arguments between her parents and Abuela, also fearing Abuela would give the baby to someone else in the family to raise to save face with the Encanto. Her ex-boyfriend didn’t want to marry her and his parents didn’t trust her not to cause more harm with her strength.

Luisa left a note to her parents and sisters and left in the middle of the night and left with a donkey of supplies into the woods.

The Artefact was tracked leaving Encanto, to the Watchers sent a group to intercept and recruit Luisa into the services.

With no destination and medical oversight desired for her child, Luisa took the offer with some scepticism but she saw some help was better than no help and curious on where this would lead her.

With the watcher Technology, Luisa was able to carry the twin to almost term, due earlier for twins naturally, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl first before a boy a few months before her 18th birthday. Unknown to even the watchers, wearing the bracers from their conception, pregnancy and birth led to the twins developing sonically more advanced.

It became more prominent as they grew to walk and talk fairly quickly, soaking in information faster and faster. Talking fluently in both Spanish and English by the time they were two when Luisa was studying to become a professor at the Casita, where she had to take them with her so they also learned with her.

It wasn’t until she caught them dismantling the technology in her room before she took them to be checked over where they properly assessed the children’s IQ and other attributes. To keep from dismantling stuff out of curiosity, Luisa opted to put the twins into higher and more education which did kept them busy and her more personal time, allowing her to look into more romantic partners.

Their eventual father came into their lives when they were three, when Luisa graduated and gain her educational merits and met Andre Cabara. The two fell in love and married just after her 21st Birthday after a year of dating. Andre was told that he was to love her twins as if they were his own, so he did. It took a few weeks for the two to warm up to him but they soon got on very well. Pablo especially looked up to him as a fatherly role model he was missing and Lydia really had wanted a Papa so it was an often a competition of who gets who for story time and cuddles at night.

Lydia is a bright soul who enjoys reading and writing mostly but often enjoys a good project, like designing things to create but hates long traveling or her parents leaving them for too long. she tried to find short cuts and easy routes for convenience, making her a little lazy in that regard, her dislike for travel led her to get the gift of opening up portals/teleporting after at her 5th Birthday which she enjoyed immensely. Often teleporting from her room to her parents when she wants their attention.

Pablo is a more introverted child out of the both of them, preferring his alone time where he can or staying tucked into his parent’s side when he’s in public. He grew up on creating and destroying, often the instigator on dismantling things to see how things worked and enjoyed working with his hands. He grew up in the perfect environment to feed his thirst for knowledge though often he get in trouble for being a smart ass or rudeness. He wanted to make things and enjoyed showing off. Often he got his sister into helping him when he could.

When he was 5, he got the gift to manipulate metals. It first, was hard to cope as he could barly touch a door knob without it melting (aside from his magical door) but, like always, he was a fast learner and he realised his gift would allow him to create so much more, and with some relief for his mother who often had to take away more dangerous tools he...borrowed when trying to invent a few things.

By the time the two were seven, they were still in school by Luisa’s suggestion to try new courses and areas to keep them busy, and in her mind away from weapons and the combat side of the Watcher AU, but, the two were put into Mandatory Self-defence courses, as they were both Divergent born Madrigals, thus, at a higher kidnap-risk and a necessary precaution which did some into use once. Lydia got her and her brother straight to their mother immediately.

#encanto #encanto au #abscond au #luisa madrigal #abscond luisa #alma madrigal #abscond alma #abscond julieta #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #agustín madrigal #mirabel madrigal #dolores madrigal #isabela madrigal

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rocknews · 1 year

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Shahbad Dairy Murder: Initial probe reveals break-up drove Sahil to kill girl, say police

A senior police officer said the accused suspected the victim of having an affair with her ex-boyfriend and had allegedly threatened her a few days ago that he would kill her.

NEW DELHI: A preliminary probe into the killing of a minor girl in northwest Delhi’s Shahbad Dairy revealed that the accused was enraged after his break-up with the victim and the fight between them a day earlier triggered the horrific act, police said on Monday.

The accused, Sahil (20), was arrested from Bulandshahr after a call from his aunt to his father was traced to a location in Uttar Pradesh, they said.

A senior police officer said the accused suspected the victim of having an affair with her ex-boyfriend and had allegedly threatened her a few days ago that he would kill her.

“Initial probe also revealed that Sahil had a suspicion that she had started talking to her former boyfriend and got into a relationship with him. He had also apparently threatened to kill her,” he said.

Sahil brutally killed the 16-year-old girl Sunday evening by stabbing her over 20 times and bludgeoning her to death with a cement slab.

In all, the girl, Sakshi, was found to have 34 injury marks on her body and her skull was ruptured. The final autopsy report is awaited, police said.

“During the investigation, police checked the CCTV footage of the area and spoke to the victim’s family who said she was going around with a boy named Sahil. We reached his place and the boy was found absconding. Technical surveillance was mounted. We questioned his relatives and worked on all technical aspects.”

“A phone by his aunt (bua) to his father informing him about Sahil’s sudden arrival helped police to nab him from Bulandshahr in Uttar Pradesh. His medical examination was conducted and by Monday night, he will reach Delhi, following which police will further interrogate him,” a senior police officer said.

The accused had switched off his mobile phone after the incident and headed for his aunt’s house in Bulandshahr on a bus, police said.

Another police officer, part of the investigation, said when Sahil was questioned about his relationship with the victim, he said he was with her since June 2021.

According to the police, there was a delay of about 25 minutes in informing the police about the incident.

None of the bystanders made a PCR call and it was a police informer who alerted the police about the incident, following which a police team was rushed to the spot around 9.30 pm.

Police said the victim had told her parents that she had been staying with one of her friends, Neetu, who has two children and lives in a one-room set, police said. Sakshi was staying with her friend for the past 15 days.

The girl had stopped talking to Sahil a few days ago, and had had a fight with him a day before she was killed, they said.

“The girl was in a relationship with Sahil since 2021, but of late they often fought over things and shared a strained relationship. She eventually stopped talking to him and wanted to end her relationship with him, but he kept approaching her and wanted to reunite with her,” the officer said.

“Even on Saturday, they had a fight which further worsened their relationship. This could be the reason behind the murder,” he said.

Police are also trying to know more about a tattoo the victim had on her hand bearing the name “Praveen” which they say could also be a cause of frequent fights between Sahil and the girl and her eventual killing.

#Shahbad Dairy #Murder

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dailynews9 · 2 years

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Youth pushes girlfriend, 19, to death from 4th

Lucknow : A 19 – year – old girl has a fatal fall after her boyfriend allegedly pushed her from the fourth floor of an apartment building in Lucknow after an argument on Tuesday evening. The girl’s family alleged that the accused was mounting pressure on her to convert for marriage . The couple had an affair, said the police. The youth is absconding after the girl’s death. Apart from a murder…

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#Youth pushes girlfriend

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best24news · 2 years

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धारूहेडा रिश्तेदारी में आई युवती प्रेमी संग फरार-Best24News

धारूहेडा: अपने रिश्तेदार के घर आई युवती गांव निवासी एक युवक के साथ फरार हो गई। लडकी के पिता ने एक युवक पर उसका बेटी के अपहरण करने का आरोप लगाया है। Cyber crime: 25 लाख के चक्कर में गंवाए 28 हजार-Best24Newsथाना धारूहेडा पुलिस को दी शिकायत में जाटूसाना क्षेत्र के गांव निवासी एक व्यक्ति ने बातया कि उसकी बेटी किसी काम से रिश्तेदार के पास धारूहेडा आई थी। जब उसने पता किया तो पता चला कि वह वहां नहीं…

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#Jatusana news #Rewari Hindi News #CRIME NEWS #girl absconding with boyfriend #REWARI CRIME NEWS #Rewari haryana news #REWARI NEWS

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btsydtrash · 3 years

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Euphoria [1]

bad boy jungkook x librarian yn

Jungkook was used to getting what he wanted. He was handsome, disgustingly so, and he knew how to flirt his way in (and out of) danger. He lived for and with his brothers. He didn't know anything but his found family. Still, happening upon you was one of the best decisions he ever made.

Now... How to make you realize that your life was missing him as much as his had been missing you.

(angst / yandere / smut / fluff)

Masterlist / i don’t have a tag list / find me on twitter / word count: 1.4k

author’s note: jungkook is an intense person in this. super intense. but i dont want to fall into... usual tropes of violence or aggressive love. i’d like to peel back some layers w this one. this story will be explicit and slowly devolve. it’s also predominantly from jungkook’s pov.

Chapter 1 - Found you..

Jungkook liked to do things fast and hard.

He worked out, fast and hard, pushing his body until he was practically kissing the mat.

He drank, fast and hard, until he was throwing up his guts in alleyways and unable to remember getting home.

He did drugs, fast and hard, smoking joints and snorting or popping any pill and tab that was handed his way, eyes rolling into the back of his head and come-downs that left his hands trembling and his stomach empty and uneasy for days.

He fucked, fast and hard, never failing to stick his dick in the hottest, tightest ass that walked into the bar any day of the week, coming back to his body and realizing he is balls deep inside of a girl who he doesn’t recognize.

The one thing he didn’t do fast and hard, the one thing he didn’t do at all, was fall in love.

It would be too easy to say that he got his heart broken once, and that was enough trauma for him to swear off love completely. But that wasn’t it. He had never been in love, he hadn’t ever really liked any of his exes. They just stuck around long enough for them to latch onto the self-imposed title of ‘girlfriend’ and he wasn’t a complete tool, so he knew how to play his role so he could get free food, access up their skirts whenever he wanted and head in the mornings without fail.

He never called himself their boyfriend, and eventually, they realized how disinterested he was in the whole thing - not until they were ‘in love’ of course, and that always left him having to get his car detailed again, or sporting a reddened cheek with a fresh, stinging hand print.

Truth be told, he saw what love did to his father, how it turned him from a a titan of a man, into a pathetic alcohol-driven mess. His mother, the love of his father’s life, left him for another man, abandoning them both when Jungkook was only six years old. He hasn’t seen her since, and he’s happier for it, knowing the selfish parts of him must have come from her because they didn’t come from his Pops.

He knows she has a new family, though. A new husband and a son, some years younger than he is, in Manila where she absconded to after he abrupt divorce. She was happy, over there, away from him and his weak-hearted father. He just hopes he never has to bear the sight or smell of her again.

Still, since seeing all of that, he has never in his short twenty-one years of life, yearned for that twisting in his gut that he is told is called ‘love’.

Meeting you, however, was a problem. The fly in the ointment. The wrench in his wheel.

Because everyone loved you.

How could they not, with your soft, measured way of speaking, and the gentle sparkle in your eye as you listen to stories, enthralled and engaged in ways that would make anyone feel validated. He despises the slope of your neck, the pout of your lips, the shine that seems to glow from beneath your skin. He hates it all. Because he craves it all. He craves the scent your skin on his, he yearns to feel the pace of your heart hum under his fingertips. He wants it all.

He hasn’t spoken to you once since he started coming to the library some weeks ago, but he has had his eyes set on you in ways he has never felt for another person in his wretched life.

He should explain, right?

Jungkook is a high-school drop out. For all intents and purposes, he’s what they would call a loser. Or he should be, if it wasn’t for his insane talent on the drums. As a successful drummer in a band that was gearing up to make their debut on bigger performance stages, Jungkook had money, he had his own place, his own car, a gym membership and he had a blender. Something about having more than one blender meant he had it made or some shit - he doesn’t make the rules, he only follows them.

Anyway, it was one of his father’s final wishes to see Jungkook get his qualifications from high school. Not for any other reason but his own fatherly pride. And then his Dad abruptly died, leaving Jungkook to figure out how to navigate the world , effectively as an orphan, and Jungkook didn’t even have time to be angry about that before he was thrust into plans for his father’s business, for finances, for the funeral expenses, for the vultures that swooped down to try and peel his father’s reputation apart.

Two months away from any alcohol or drugs left Jungkook’s mind clearer than he ever remembers, and it was then that he stumbled upon a hand-written letter from his father addressed to him in his office one afternoon.

It read,

Son, if you’re reading this then I have not done my due diligence as a father and I have failed you somehow. I want to apologize for that. I know this wasn’t how you wanted to live - it wasn’t how I wanted to raise you but I tried my best, and I believe you know that.

I feel that you may believe me to be embarrassed of you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. You are my greatest and most wonderful achievement. I have photos of you on stage, stored on my computer and in my office at work. I look to those pictures whenever I need some kind of energy, because the look in your eyes is so impassioned and raw that it reminds me that I am a human being.

I missed a lot of time with you. Focusing so heavily on building my business, I left you vulnerable to outside forces and before I realized what was happening, you were looking at me as if I were someone you didn’t recognize. And for that I am sorry. So deeply sorry, son. If I could turn back time, I would gladly give up all that I have now for more time with the version of you that I remember calling me ‘Dad’ with so much unfiltered love and vulnerability. The ‘you’ who cried watching movies with happy endings. The ‘you’ who made beds for caterpillars in the backyard. The ‘you’ who gave me a haircut in my sleep and left me to go to work with a patch in the back of my neck.

That you, the you I miss so deeply.

Despite the circumstances, I hope you find this letter with a seed of joy in your heart. I hope that this helps you unlock something in you that you may have thought you had long buried. Hope.

To my only and most beloved son,

Jeon Jungkook.

Signed, your foolish Dad.

Jungkook hadn’t cried once up until that point. Not when he found his father’s body, not when he lowered the casket into the ground, not when he listened to tens of his father’s employees and friends lament over their loss. Not one time did a single tear fall from his eyes.

Yet, after reading that note, the dam inside of him breaks and it felt as if it would drown with how much he was crying. At one point, he threw up, he passed out, he gave himself a fever that he battled through the night, with the intensity of his tears.

And when he opened his sore, swollen eyes the next morning, he swore that in death, his father’s concern for him wouldn’t continue. He was going to get this fucking GED, if it killed him.

Which brought him to the nearest library.

Which brought him to you.

Gentle, soft, patient, sweet and kind you. With your delicate fingers and glasses perched on the top of your nose. With your cream blouse and cups of milky coffee. With the romance novels that hang out of your aged side-bag that you sneak peeks at during slow hours when you think nobody is watching. He is, of course. He always is. He reads the books along with you, noting the names of the novels and finding them in the expansive library, sitting at his favorite perch on the second floor where he can watch you comfortably without any interruptions or distractions.

Not for the first time, he thanks his father’s spirit for guiding him to his salvation, and he wonders how he is meant to make you realize you are his.

- end -

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

#jjk #jungkook angst #jungkook yandere #bts angst #bts yandere #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #drummer jungkook #librarian yn #non idol au #still famous bts #btswriterscollective #btswritersguild #btswritersclub #bts fic #jungkook fic #euphoria

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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Treacherous

I'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands

Summary: Elain Archeron is D O N E with the family business. Done with crime. Done with a life of bullets, of always looking over her shoulder. Swearing she's happy with her life far from her sisters, Elain makes a name for herself on the west coast. She's home only for two weeks, to see her eldest sister married before she returns. Nothing will change that, no matter how her sisters beg.

A stray bullet grazing her cheek, of course, puts a wrench in those plans. Elain is reminded just how dangerous being an Archeron is, and that the past isn't as buried as she imagined.

An old enemy as returned. And he's got his sights set directly on her.

TW: Blood/death, mentions of sexual assault. Typos

Part 1: I'd Be Smart To Walk Away, But You're Quicksand

AO3

Elain Archeron never wanted an inheritance. She’d ignored what it meant to be an Archeron entirely, removing herself from her family—her father, truly—until she could no longer. What a sweet escape, absconding to the west coast, leaving her sisters to manage the festering rot. No more surveilling cops trailing her as she walked to school, no more waking up to bullets whizzing through her bedroom window, of boys too afraid to speak to her, or girls who turned up their noses with a sneer.

Mafia. Glorified, to be certain, but crime all the same. There was glamour to be had. Elain wouldn’t deny that, not when Feyre sent her a designer handbag for her birthday or Nesta ordered a series of dresses straight from the runway, shipped directly to Elain’s apartment. Feyre had taken over, sanitizing the business, turning herself into a girl boss. For the first time in the history of the Archeron family, they were almost legitimate. Elain was certain Nesta’s law degree, her sharp tongue and terrifying stare didn’t hurt. She tried to imagine those same cops harassing them now. Nesta likely had them running backwards, tail between their legs.

Come home, her sisters had cajoled. Dad is dead. Things are different now.

As if anything could convince Elain to leave the museum she worked in. Costume design was her passion and there was no better place than Los Angeles to work. She’d made a name for herself, had consulted on million-dollar movies. There was no way she would ever leave the bright sunlight, the access to soft sand and all the soft-lit chaos Los Angeles brought for snowstorms and more of their family’s murky, messy legacy.

Certainly not when Feyre merged their family with the Velarian’s. Rhysand was so utterly terrifying Elain had almost skipped the wedding entirely. She remembered seeing him, once as a teenager, watching the three of them as they crossed the street for school. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. So utterly imposing. Always surrounded by his brothers, the menacing Azriel and the muscular Cassian. He’d been fascinated with Feyre then. Perhaps he’d recognized some similar darkness, had known what she’d make of things once her father finally got out of her way.

The wedding was so utterly normal. Instagrammable. Elain could almost relax. Nesta had laughed, had let her hair down as Cassian spun her around a darkened dance flood and Feyre watched at the head of a long table. A queen, surveying her domain. She’d liked what she’d seen.

But Elain did not. She’d skittered back to L.A., promptly pushing the whole experience from her mind. She couldn’t let herself think her sisters had created any sort of safety—she was above board. Eventually Feyre would slip up, especially now that she was responsible for Rhys. He’d always been a little reckless, a little too comfortable with violence. She’d heard stories of what his acolytes did in his name. Azriel’s skills with a knife were only ever spoken of in hushed, whispered words.

Nesta’s engagement to Cassian was a punch to the gut. The string that tied Elain to her sisters tugged, as if to whisper you’re next. Her boyfriend broke up with her—Graysen was always a little too fixated on his modeling career to truly want anything serious—leaving Elain wondering if she could truly outrun the curse of her last name. Would she find Azriel waiting when she returned, his cold, quiet beauty suddenly tempting?

She called Nesta. I can’t make it.

And Nesta had gone silent. Digesting. Contemplating. Finally—Because you’re a coward, Elain.

Click. A dial tone. Nothing but silence followed Nesta’s condemnation. And Elain, for weeks, could not deny the truth of Nesta’s words. She didn’t want to face them all again, to see their happiness and stare at the darkness of her own life. To be forced to admit that maybe, just maybe, she missed them more than she was willing to admit.

So Elain got back on a plane. Checked her phone one last time.

Can’t wait to see you!!

Nes and I are already sitting outside the airport—we have a surprise for you!

Feyre and Nesta, two of the most terrifying women in the country, perhaps the world itself, and Elain knew their surprise was a bouquet of absurd and silly balloons. An inside joke between them, embarrassing the others through greeting cards, balloons, and candles on cakes. How many times had Nesta sent a Hallmark card lamenting Elain’s latest job loss or congratulating her on a pregnancy because she found the entire thing amusing? As often as Elain tied a Get well soon balloon to a chair on her sisters’ birthday. Because you’re stupid, she used to joke while they scowled, arms crossed over their chest.

She stepped from her tarmac, bag rolling behind her. She had three dresses tucked in a garment bag slung over her shoulder and heels on her feet. She knew Feyre would be dressed slouchy—comfortable and Nesta would be in the smartest pencil suit money could buy. Elain was not disappointed when she finally cleared the exit, hands skimming the rail of the escalator. Feyre and Nesta were waiting, just as she knew they would be, holding the large bouquet of flowers. Stuck in the middle is a cheerful pink piece of plastic proclaiming Baby girl!

Elain rolled her eyes, unable to suppress her smile. “You look tan,” Feyre complemented the moment Elain reached them.

“And congrats on the baby,” Nesta added as the crowd parted around them, unconcerned about the homecoming happening. “You look incredible for six months.”

“I wish. I haven’t had sex in at least that long,” Elain groused, tucking the white and yellow blooms beneath her arm. Feyre took her garment bag, only for Nesta to snatch it from her.

“Speaking of pregnant,” Feyre said with a sly grin, her hand pressed against her flat stomach hidden in an oversized top. Elain’s eyes widened.

“You’re teasing.”

“I wouldn’t joke about a baby,” Feyre lied, ignoring the flowers beneath Elain’s arm. “It was a surprise but I’m excited. It’s new, so keep it between us.”

“No heavy lifting,” Nesta reminded their youngest sister, as if Elain’s dressed weighed anything at all. The three stepped from the sanitized airport for the muggy New England air. A black SUV waited, idling in the no parking zone and Elain marveled at Feyre’s ability to just do as she pleased. That sort of thing might have gotten Elain shot in L.A. Not that she’d ever say such a thing—she hardly needed her sisters uniting under the same cause, a cause that might find her packing up her things and moving back home.

Feyre slid into the drivers seat while Elain and Nesta loaded Elain’s things in the trunk. “You need a car this big?” Elain teased, climbing into the passenger seat when Nesta wordlessly got into the back.

“No. But I like it. It feels very Godfather-y to me,” Feyre joked, the closest she’d ever get to admitting her true line of work. Every word was spoken carefully, layered beneath innuendo. If the FBI meant to catch them, meant to bug them, they would not incriminate themselves.

“It’s a new mom-mobile,” Nesta added casually, crossing a slim leg over her knee. “Before you know it, you’ll be toting ten snotty kids off to baseball practice or whatever it is kids play.”

“You’re right behind me.”

From the side mirror, Elain caught how Nesta scowled. “Give up perky tits for stretchmarks? Not a chance in hell.”

“Jokes on you, Nes—I’ve got perky tits and stretchmarks,” Elain replied, catching how Feyre’s expression tightened and softened, relaxing when she realized her sisters were not judging her. Only themselves and the impossible standards they felt compelled to participate in.

“Same,” Feyre agreed. “I don’t believe for a second you don’t, either.”

“Believe it,” Nesta sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Unlike Feyre and Elain, card carrying members of the itty bitty titty committee, Nesta had the sort of model-esque body all girls were told they ought to want. Slim waist, big breasts, a nicely curved ass. Elain had been absurdly jealous of her older sister when they were younger, wishing she’d inherited their mothers nice figure. Elain and Feyre were an up and down sort of slim and the only thing that would ever fix that would be surgery.

And in L.A., Elain was sorely tempted. It was an absurd prospect for someone who didn’t have a job in front of camera and Elain didn’t think a rounder ass would make her like herself any better. Though it might have kept Graysen around longer.

As though she could read Elain’s mind, Feyre glanced sideways, navigating out of the tangled airport traffic for the freeway. “So Graysen and you are done?”

“Done done?” Nesta clarified a little too breathlessly.

“Yeah. He wanted to focus on his career—”

Nesta snorted from the backseat and like a lady, Elain chose to ignore it. “And honestly, I don’t think we were ever really going anywhere.”

“And how is work?” Feyre prompted, looking in the rearview mirror. “I saw your new collection. Love the nineteen twenties.”

“You read my piece?” Elain couldn’t help but ask, ignoring the blatant conspiring happening under her nose.

“We read them all,” Nesta retorted indignantly. “Just like you surely read my case briefs.”

“I absolutely do not do that,” Elain replied dryly.

“I guess we just love you more,” Feyre quipped, the diamond on her finger glittering a holographic rainbow around the car. Elain settled closer against the leather interior, breathing in the fresh leather smell.

“Maybe,” Elain agreed. “Or maybe my job is more interesting.”

Nesta and Feyre exchanged another wordless glance. “Probably,” Nesta conceded, her tone betraying her. I doubt that, she seemed to say. They couldn’t discuss that in the car. Couldn’t discuss it in front of Elain at all. They’d never formally agreed not to, but Elain knew her sisters understood the quiet boundary she’d drawn for herself the day dad died. They knew why she’d chosen a west coast school, snubbing her nose at an Ivy legacy. Why she resisted coming home unless she was coerced, unless something lifechanging was happening to her sisters. No more family business.

“So Cassian,” Elain changed topics. “Tell me how he prop—”

Two shots rang out, silencing the three of them. Elain immediately ducked, hands thrown over her head. Feyre swerved while Nesta reached beneath her seat, pulling a handgun from a heavy box.

“Everyone okay?” Feyre demanded, eyes sharpening. Two holes had pierced the glass of Elain’s window. She felt fine, but when Feyre glanced over, deciding she’d give chase, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re bleeding. Don’t get blood on my new seats, Elain. Get the kit out of the glovebox.”

Just like when they were kids. There was no time to react, no time to acknowledge what was happening was fucked, was not normal.

And still there was no tears. Elain pulled the glove compartment open where Feyre kept a small red first aid box. Pulling her visor down, she saw where the bullet had just missed her, singing the flesh of her cheek. Another near miss. Another possible scar.

“You see them?” Feyre asked while Elain pressed a bandage against the line of blood.

“Not here,” Nesta replied, gun still in her lap. “Slow down, Fey. Too many people out.”

“He could have killed Elain,” she snapped, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I want—”

“It’s just road rage,” came Nesta’s clinical reply, perhaps remembering they might have unwanted interlopers listening to their every word. “Let’s get home. We can call the cops.”

The cops. More like Rhysand would send out his most brutal artillery as repayment. Elain pressed her back into the leather.

What a homecoming.

~*~

“My sister-in-law is in town,” Rhysand began, the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled to his elbows. It was early in the morning, closer to dawn that dusk and Lucien wanted to be in bed. Not in Rhysand’s kitchen and certainly not being treated to a family history.

“Good for her,” Lucien replied, running his fingers through long, tangled hair. “How is that my problem?”

“Koschei’s guys are still after my wife. Took a shot on the freeway today, clipped her sister. Nothing serious, just a little scratch but she’s the one who thinks she’s above all this. Too good to stick around, to support her family. Trembling like a little baby fawn…like she doesn’t have Archeron blood.”

Lucien frowned. “Feyre has more than one sister?”

“Two. Elain lives out in L.A. doing some shit with clothes for a museum. She’s in town for Nesta’s wedding and Feyre thinks she’s an easy target.”

“Have Azriel watch her,” Lucien dismissed, knowing full well where this was going. “I told you the Vanserra’s were done helping you out.”

“Your brother owes me for that shit with Morrigan. I’m calling it in,” Rhysand replied, his blue eyes flashing violet. “Already called him. It’s an easy job. Until Koschei is six feet in the ground, you’re Elain’s personal shadow. Anything happens to her, you better be dead first.”

Lucien pressed his fingertips into his eye sockets, elbows resting against the marble of Rhys’s kitchen island. Eris, the fucking dick, couldn’t help himself. The Vanserra’s and the Velarians had old history—the Vanserra’s came from old, legitimate money that they occasionally liked to put to poor use and the Velarian’s liked to avoid trouble. Seem above board. Politican’s in their pockets, police on their payroll, billionaires as friends. Rhysand had cultivated an image as a savvy businessman, ignoring his businesses were laundromats and car washes, and Eris, upholding that tradition, had helped Rhys avoid being indicted on tax fraud. Introduced him to investors, kept the feds from sniffing around.

And occasionally offered up Lucien as help. Lucien, with his military service and his skills with a gun made him a good choice as a body guard though Lucien preferred a different sort of assignment. He preferred the cool metal of a gun in his hand and the thrill of pulling the trigger. Elain Archeron hardly fit that bill.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Rhysand replied. “And I’ll pay for everything. I’ve got her up at hotel downtown. Penthouse suite.”

“I’m bunking, I guess?”

Rhys’s grin became feline. “What you do is your own business. I don’t give a fuck about professional boundaries or whatever code of ethics you live by. Don’t let her out of your sight. That means same living space, that means knowing when she’s showering, where she’d drinking and who else she might be fucking.”

Lucien glowered beneath the insinuation he’d be fucking one of the Archeron girls. Gorgeous, yes. Feyre and Nesta were two of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his entire life. He understood the appeal and yet could not imagine what it must have been like chipping away at their icy exterior. “Cash, in my account. I’m not billing my expenses.”

“Fine,” Rhys agreed with a shrug. “I mean it, Vanserra. If anything happens to Elain, Feyre will have my fucking balls. She likes you. Thinks you won’t scare Elain too much.”

That explained the lack of Azriel, then. Lucien imagined Feyre had been quite put out, not able to marry her last sister off to Rhysand’s last brother. Cementing their families fully, creating a crime dynasty that even Eris was a little worried about.

“Where is she now?” Lucien asked.

“Tonight? She’s upstairs with Nesta. They’re having a sleepover. Go pack up your things and check her in—I want to avoid a scene in my living room.”

“So she can scream in my face?” Lucien retorted, outraged. Rhys nodded.

“Exactly. She’s your problem until you put her back on a plane or I put a bullet in Koschei’s brain. Whichever comes first.”

“Work fast,” Lucien grumbled, sliding his keys towards him before stalking from the large mansion Rhys lived in. Just outside the city, set on acres of green pasture and overlooking the Atlantic, it truly was beautiful. Lucien could admire good taste when he saw it and despite being an occasional slimeball, Rhysand had immaculate taste in architecture.

Lucien heaved a sigh once he was in his car, stretching his legs out in front of him. The work was good…satisfying, even. Could he really complain if he was given what amounted to a two-weeks paid vacation? Lucien very much doubted Elain would be any trouble at all, given how Rhysand had described her. Trembling fawn.

He couldn’t imagine any Archeron as anything but an ice cold bitch. He’d seen Feyre press a heeled foot against a crying man’s throat, gun right between his eyes. Had seen Nesta casually cut a throat, lamenting the blood that splattered over her blouse. Surely this last sister was the same, had that same icy blue stare that sent shivers up his spine.

Rhysand sent the check in information to Lucien before he reached downtown, to his own loft in the sky. Even if he’d skipped the military, Lucien could have lived like a King. The Vanserra’s owned this city regardless of what Rhysand thought. Eris could just as easily turn everything over to the fed and start anew, could wipe both the Velarians and the Archeron off the board with little more than a wave of his hand. Lucien’s inheritance could have made him the most prolific playboy the city had ever seen.

He supposed he had his father’s cruel streak, just like his elder brother. He put it to good use he liked to think. After all, he’d never raised a hand in anger against someone who hadn’t deserved it. Beron could not boast the same. That’s why Beron was dead—his body carved to pieces and scattered in the ocean. Missing, even as Lucien packed up his things. Of course they suspected him and Eris and for good reason—Lucien had pulled the trigger but Eris had tied his father to the chair. Lucien had cut up the body but it was Eris’s boat that had hidden the evidence.

On holiday, their mother had said. He left with a mistress, I don’t know where he went after that. That woman still screamed to the high heavens it was Beron’s sons who killed him, wailing like a scorned woman. Lucien supposed she did mourn him—had he married her like he promised, Lucien and Eris might have been disinherited.

One of lifes fun little mysteries, what might have been.

Lucien did beat Elain to the penthouse suite. The sun had just broken over the horizon when he arrived, dropping his black duffle bag beside the door. People lived in places like this and though Lucien had never seen the appeal, he was certainly grateful Rhys was not sparing any expense. He poked through the space, far larger than any woman needed. It would give them both space. She could take up in the large bedroom, draped in soft blue blankets and a mountain of soft pillows. He stole one, tossing it to the tan couch in the living area before raiding her closet for spare blankets. He’d sleep out there, between the door and the balcony. There were two bathrooms—one attached to her bedroom and a much smaller common bathroom with a toilet, a sink, and a standup shower. Good enough for him, he decided.

He covered every inch of the glossy hardwood, checking the rounded windows that filtered in buttery morning light. Dark blue curtains were tied on either side, giving the option for privacy if he wanted—or darkness, if he needed to sleep in. And sleep he did. Lucien checked his phone, ignoring the apologetic message from Eris, before collapsing to the couch. He was tempted to flip on the television, perched against a brick facing wall, and let mindless noise lull him to sleep.

He didn’t need it. He was out before he could reach for the remote set against a wood coffee table, hand resting against his chest, gun holstered at his side. There were no dreams, just the sweet, crushing darkness of oblivion.

And then there’s her. Lucien heard her in the back of his mind, heard the beep of the front door allowing her entry. Heels clipping against the floor, her soft sigh as she set something crinkly against the glass table right beside the door. He sat up, twisting to look at her.

Elain. She’d kicked off tall, white shoes, leaving them just beside the door. Frozen in place, her warm brown eyes huge. Wide with fear. Hand pressed to her breast, visible beneath the neckline of a soft, lavender sundress. Her hair was blonder than her sisters, tumbling in soft curls down her back. Her skin a soft, golden tan, sunkissed and freckled. He understood what a heart shaped face looked like…understood the fascination with the Archeron women.

“I’ll scream,” she warned, clutching her phone. Lucien huffed a laugh.

“I might like that.”

His words did nothing to ease the fear she so clearly felt. He stood, noting the difference in their heights almost immediately. “Your brother asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately. “My brother?”

“In law,” he amended. “Rhys. He’s worried after what happened yesterday.”

Proof, streaked angry and red over an otherwise flawless cheek, sends a flare of discomfort through him. Her fingers brushed over her skin absently, rubbing the cut as though she’d all but forgotten about it. Lucien took advantage of her silence to ogle her body with what he hoped was subtly. She was small, her waist curved into softly flaring hips hidden beneath the skirt of her dress. Slim, smooth, and tanned legs vanished upwards and Lucien could not pretend he wasn’t interested in what might lay between.

“So you’re, what? A babysitter?”

“Bodyguard,” he amended, eyes snapping back to her face.

“I’m not part of…of all this,” she hissed, crossing her arms just beneath her breasts. The action pushed the soft swell upwards and Lucien immediately averted his eyes. He didn’t dare let her catch him. “I didn’t need a bodyguard for Feyre’s wedding.”

He shrugged. “Take it up with Rhys.”

He sat back on the couch, stretching himself out so she understood he would be going nowhere unless Rhys released him from the arrangement. And even then, Lucien might show back up simply to see her.

He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, making a show if his disinterest while Elain made a furious phone call to her sister. She spoke in hushed tones, pacing back and forth while Lucien pretended he didn’t hear every word.

“—Not what we agreed!” Elain snapped. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Whatever was said on the other end silenced her anger, pacified her in some way. The next words spoken from Elain’s mouth were a soft, “You’re right. I’m sorry…I’ll stay.”

She became quiet for a moment. “We need rules.”

“Oh?” Lucien replied, not bothering to rise from the couch. She stomped around to face him, arms still crossed over her chest, breasts heaving in the most tantalizing way. He raised one knee, hiding any proof that he might be affected by her…however slight that may be.

“Two weeks. This is my vacation. I don’t want you in my space.”

“Fine,” Lucien agreed, gesturing the length of his body. She looked, cocking her head for the briefest of moments and he couldn’t help but wonder if she liked what she saw. “You know, this isn’t my idea of a good time, either, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, all but cementing the nickname. Lucien grinned against her deepening scowl.

“Any other rules?”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” she told him, eyebrows raised. He scoffed, then.

“Don’t fall in love with you? I can see why you’d need to preface all conversations that way, given how utterly charming you’ve been.”

Elain sighed. “Where is Azriel? He couldn’t be here?”

“Aw, missing your boyfriend?”

Her expression darkened. “He’s silent.”

“Yeah, and he’s also got cameras in your shower. I know Azriel, babe. Be glad it’s me just napping on your sofa. I have no interest in watching you soap up.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“If you try anything—”

“What’s to try? You’re not the only pretty girl in this town, princess. Maybe you run things where you’re from but not up here. Relax. It’s two weeks. Things will go better if you’re not fighting me the whole time.”

She stalked off, mumbling about his usage of the word relax the whole way. Lucien exhaled softly, overall pleased with himself.

Two weeks with her? Even if he never fucked her at all, he thought it would still be time well spent.

~*~

For forty-eight hours, Elain did nothing but lay in bed. Door closed, television on, she turned her bedroom into a room within a room, decidedly ignoring the man sent to guard her. She didn’t like the smirking laugh set against the golden brown of his skin and certainly didn’t appreciate how he stretched out the long, muscular length of his body. She didn’t need to be in his orbit at all—Lucien was just her type. Or had been, once. When she lived at home and her father was allowed to approve who dated his daughters. Feyre liked a smooth talker, someone well-polished on the surface and messy just beneath.

And Nesta, as controlled as she was, preferred men of a more muscular slant, who seemed almost blue collar by comparison. Cassian lacked none of Rhysand’s elegance though he made up for it in humor. While Rhysand could smile while stabbing someone in the back, Cassian was more likely to just jam the knife right in someone’s face and walk away, unconcerned about mess or niceties.

And Elain? She’d always lived somewhere in between. She wanted more elegance, less simmering rage. He could be messy, violent even, but it had to be done for the right reasons. A man with a code, with principals. And the ability to dress himself without her intervention.

On day three, Elain could not pretend her sister hadn’t overstepped, if only a little. She had to face the music, had to confront Nesta and Feyre. She dressed for the warm weather in little white shorts and a bright yellow tanktop, slipped on a pair of sandals, and, with a breath, stepped into the living room.

And oh, how she wished she hadn’t. Lucien, with only a towel tied loosely around his otherwise naked body, was padding from the bathroom the living room. His hair was wet around his face, half obscuring the trio of angry gashes cut from forehead to chin, just narrowly avoiding one of his russet brown eyes.

“You’re awake,” he commented when he saw her. He hoisted his bag onto the coffee table and began rifling through it. She watched, mouth dry, as he tossed a black pair of briefs, dark jeans and a hunter green shirt onto the sofa.

“What happened to your face?” she asked when nothing else came to mind. He straightened, the muscles in his back rippling with tension before he turned and God she wished he hadn’t. Smooth, golden muscle gleamed wetly, tapering into a tight vee that would make the most disciplined actor in L.A. weep. She had no intention of asking how he maintained his body. She could guess.

“Do you really want to know?” he replied, making a slashing motion through the air with a knife.

“Oh.”

“You can thank my dad for stunting my otherwise good looks,” Lucien told her, reaching a hand for the knot that held his towel. She thought for one wild moment he was going to strip completely, was going to show her everything. He merely tightened the fabric, keeping it from riding any lower.

“Your father did that?” she gasped. Lucien frowned, brows knitted together.

“How else do you get men like me?” he replied, scooping up his clothes and heading back to the bathroom. And Elain, her heart pounding a little harder than she would have liked, did not have it in her to ask what kind of man he was.

While Lucien dressed, Elain shook out her hands and reminded herself to get it together. He returned, his long hair pulled off his face in a bun that was somehow neatly messy. She let her gaze linger over the sharpness of his jaw while Lucien collected his gun cheerfully.

“You want one?” he asked, holding it out to her. “I can show you how to shoot—”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Elain interrupted indignantly. As if her father had let his daughter leave the house without knowing all the intimate ways another person could be killed.

“I meant accurately,” Lucien interrupted with a wink. She didn’t bother to respond or defend herself. Who cared if he thought her a novice with a weapon? Hopefully he’d never have to learn otherwise.

“So I guess you drive, then?” Elain asked when Lucien scooped up his keys from the counter by the door.

“Bullet proof glass,” he told her with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about that pretty little face of yours.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” she replied, booping him swiftly on the nose with the tip of her finger. “How cute.”

His easy smile faded into a scowl. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

She only shrugged. “It’s just nice to know you’re thinking about my pretty face.”

“I’m thinking about a lot more than your pretty face,” he warned, reaching behind her for the door.

“I’ll bet you are. I’m not your type though, right?” she taunted, turning to walk into the hall. Lucien slammed the door with one broad hand, catching her between the wood and his body. Elain gasped, her game suddenly not funny anymore. He was close, the scent of him overwhelmingly masculine and clean. He dipped his head until his nose practically caressed her own.

“If this is the game you want to play, you better know how it ends,” he murmured, other hand ghosting over her waist.

“Oh? And how does it end? Pinned beneath you, right?” she challenged.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “On your knees, begging for my cock.”

She shoved and Lucien stumbled. There was no humor on his face—only tension. “I’ll bet the women around here die when you say that.”

“I don’t have to try so hard,” he replied, running a hand through his neat hair. Little red wisps framed his face, giving him a softened, almost undone sort of look that wasn’t unappealing. She was sure he did just fine with women. “I like a challenge.”

“I hope you like coming alone in the shower,” she added, cheeks heating at her boldness. His gaze sharpened, wholly focused on her. “It’s the closest you’ll ever get watching me beg.”

“We’ll see,” he promised, heat flaring in his eyes. And she was sure they would. She was sure they would crash and burn before the whole thing was over despite her assertions. He would brag and gloat and she’d go right back home.

Elain yanked open the door, a secret smile on her face. Maybe, in the end, she would get on her knees for him. Maybe she’d let him do all kinds of unspeakable acts to every part of her. But she wouldn’t make it easy and she wouldn’t stick around to watch him use her and discard her. She knew his type—had dated his type for years. Always so sure they were God’s gift to women, always looking for something more exciting, something else. Elain would be gone, leaving him wounded and maybe a little humbled.

A gift to the next woman he decided to touch and curse to the man himself. He’d spend the rest of his life wondering why she didn’t stay. Why it was so easy to delete his number, to go back home and get on with her life. There was something poetic about it, she decided.

Lucien, for all his bluster, said nothing at all. He merely followed her into the hall, face stony and distant.

Game on.

~*~

They were being followed. He hadn’t noticed it immediately, too focused on the ache in his cock and the humiliation in his chest. Elain had bested him with her bratty little words, with the way she’d flounced from the room, hips swaying, her hair tossed over her shoulder. She’d blithely pretended nothing happened at all and Lucien felt moody. Irritated. He swallowed it, squabbling over the radio, over which way to get to Feyre’s and on more than one occasion, how he drove. Elain was difficult. He wanted to knock her down a peg, preferably with her lips wrapped around his dick.

He caught sight of the black car as they left the city. Black SUVs were a dime a dozen and Lucien merely made a note of the first three letters on the front facing license plate, filing it away. Just in case. Elain, of course, paid no attention at all. She spent the whole drive crossing and uncrossing her tanned legs until Lucien was tempted to pull over and spank her over the hood of his car.

He pulled onto the freeway, noting the car still behind him. It wasn’t an uncommon route and still Lucien pressed his foot to the gas, speeding up until the car vanished. Paranoid, a voice whispered in his head. Paranoid kept him alive, would keep her alive. Lucien wondered if Koschei hadn’t recognized Elain as an easier target. Surely anyone keeping tabs would know Elain was the odd one out. Unprotected, unguarded, and an easy mark. What did she know, anyway? Could she defend herself?

The thoughts ate at him during the visit with Rhysand. Feyre immediately whisked Elain to the pool, promising a borrowed swimsuit and drinks while Lucien remained inside.

“All good?” Rhys asked, watching his wife dart through the kitchen, her sister in tow. Lucien shrugged.

“She doesn’t cause problems.”

“Didn’t figure she would. She likes to fly under the radar. Nothing like her sisters.”

Lucien accepted a beer from Rhysand’s fridge, cracking it open beneath the lighter kept in his pocket. “Why’d she leave, anyway?”

“She’s the one who found her old man’s body,” Rhys replied after a long sip. “Feyre thinks it was Hybern. I guess Archeron pissed him off. Anyway, Elain was the one who walked in—and it was a gruesome scene. Tortured for hours, spine cracked, just the whole works.”

Rhysand shook his head with distaste. “Tied up right in the living room where they knew one of his girls would find him. Lucien tried to imagine what that must have been like, shaking his head in disgust.

“She was his favorite and I guess it just was too much. She doesn’t do violence or blood or any of your sort of shit. I guess you noticed that.”

Lucien shrugged. It was hard to notice when she’d been locked up in her room for two days. Not that he had any intention of telling Rhys that.

“Where does she live, again?”

Rhys scoffed. “L.A. I think if she could have gotten farther, she would have. Passed up a full ride at NYU to slum it out at UCLA. She’s been home twice since then—once for Feyre’s wedding, and now.”

“Guess she’s not coming back after this.”

Rhys’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Give her a reason to stay. My wife would owe you.”

“You want your wife to owe a Vanserra a favor?” Lucien challenged. Rhys shrugged.

“You’d be family, and I could trust you not to fuck her over.”

Lucien decided to gloss over the implication of Rhys’s words, that he could only trust people that, like him, could put the interests of the Archeron women over their own. Lucien might be tempted to fuck her, but marry her? Not on his life. He’d sworn off all marriage besides, having lost the woman who should have been his wife on her nineteenth birthday. Jesminda should have been safe—she was outside all of this. Lucien had shipped off for basic training and Jesminda had been shot not a few days later.

His entire life, a future he’d hoped for, every dream he’d ever had, died on that kitchen floor with her. When it came to women now, Lucien had a catch and release sort of policy. He’d liked more than a few enough to date, but never longer than four months. And never love.

Those feelings didn’t change when he joined Rhys on the pool deck. Rhys made no show of hiding his appreciation of his wife, strung up in a red bikini that would have made anyone look twice. Beside her, sitting on the edge of the rough stone, Elain had on the mostly absurdly immodest pink thing, the shape of it giving him a near perfect image of her naked body. Pert nipples peaked through the thin fabric and when Elain stood to get Feyre a towel, the round, curved shape of her was on display. He wanted her. Anyone would—she was stunning, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life. Elain and Feyre paid them no mind, ignoring their presence until Rhys and Lucien retreated inside to work on other things.

When Elain returned, cheeks brightened from the sun, he imagined all was forgiven between sisters. Elain was on the phone, brow furrowed.

“I’m pretty sure its not there, Gray,” she said, her tone laced with exasperation. He stood from his place in the kitchen, sliding from the stool casually. Elain held up one finger, mouthing sorry as she turned her freckled back to him. “There’s a spare key in the pot on the steps. Go check for yourself. Fine. Alright.”

He frowned. “You keep a spare key outside your apartment?”

Was she stupid? Elain scowled, sliding her phone in her back pocket. “Oh relax. As if Graysen is staging some elaborate kidnapping. He’s looking for a pair of shoes he lost and thinks they’re in my apartment.”

Jealousy flared through him unbidden, the emotion catching him by surprise. “Graysen?”

“My ex,” Elain explained, waving to Rhys as she headed for the door. “I’m sure they’re very expensive but I would know if I had a pair of mans shoes floating around my place.”

“Oh?”

She scowled and still Lucien yanked open the passenger door for her, if only to give himself another opportunity to admire the shape of her ass. “It’s small.”

He waited until he was back in the car to admonish her. “You shouldn’t leave keys to your home all over the city—”

“My front porch is hardly the whole city—”

“What happens if someone crazy decides to break in?” he continued, ignoring her indignation as he pulled from the long, rounded drive. “What if some psycho decides to tie you up and have his way with you?”

She frowned. “That’s not my reality, you know. I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing back home.”

“Oh? Men respect women on the west coast, do they?”

“People aren’t constantly trying to kill me on the west coast,” Elain replied, drawing his attention back to the street. Back to the black SUV, with the familiar plates. Following.

“How do you know?” Lucien replied, careful not to tip her off—or the driver behind him.

“I’m still alive,” she huffed, leaning her head against the thick plated glass. Instinct caused him to grab her arm, to yank her away from the window.

“What was that?” she demanded, wrenching herself from his grip. He glanced in the rearview again.

“Habit. Just…don’t put your head against the glass, okay?”

“You never heard of using your words?” she grumbled, leaning away from him. She kept her head from the thick tinted windows, looking nervously out them.

“Someone shot through your sister’s car two days ago. They could have killed you.”

She didn’t react for a moment, her eyes far away. How much death had she seen? Had her father’s death been the catalyst or just the tip of a very deep iceberg?

“They didn’t,” she replied, her voice hardened, devoid of the brightness he liked so much. “I doubt they even knew I was in the car.”

But Lucien didn’t. He suspected Koschei knew exactly which sister sat where, knew who would be the easiest to get to. It was why Lucien was being followed. Maybe they only wanted intel. Who was with her? Did she leave on her own? Where was she staying?

He had no intention of providing any of that information. Lucien skipped the freeway, deciding to take her on a scenic drive. Two lovers, looking for somewhere quiet. Somewhere far from civilization where no one would hear them scream.

Literally.

“You know, I keep a knife in the glove box, if you want it,” he offered casually, glancing in his rearview again. The black SUV pulled back, was four cars behind. No hurry. Casual, unassuming.

Elain opened the glove box with a manicured hand, pulling the folded silver blade from beneath his registration and insurance documentation. “Seems small.”

“Open it,” Lucien replied, catching the sly look she shot him.

“Is this some sort of metaphor?”

“Hardly. If you want to know how big my dick is, you only have to ask. Open the knife, Elain.”

She did, flicking it easily with her wrist. It was larger than the handle made it seem, but it was the curved, jagged blade that made it special. That knife, upon it’s exit, would wreck a person, dragging sinew and flesh on its way back out. No pretty healing, only a jagged, ugly scar.

She cocked her head, examining the cool metal. “Who is behind us?” she finally asked, re-folding the knife.

“No one we would like.”

She nodded, looking towards the trees lining the winding road he drove down. “And this is what? Insurance incase whatever plan you have goes bad?”

Lucien looked at her, fear bubbling in his stomach for only a moment. Adrenaline took over, his excitement almost palpable. “Don’t get yourself killed, princess.”

She said nothing else. In truth, there was little time to say anything reassuring to her at all. Lucien turned sharply at a stop sign, his tires squealing. Elain tucked her knife into her breasts, looking back out the window. Lucien was going fast over the dark blacktop, weaving back and forth from the mountain he was currently climbing. It was just the two of them—

Shots rang in quick succession, popping in his ear. The car spun outwards, flipping over the guard rail. He heard Elain scream, heard the airbags deploy with a bang, the glass windows shatter when they finally landed, roof against the ground.

And then Lucien heard nothing else.

~*~

“Lucien,” Elain cried, her head pounding. She’d been here before, this exact scenario. She wasn’t eight and it wasn’t her father passed out behind the wheel. Blood trickled from Lucien’s nose. She unbuckled herself, aware they had minutes to vanish into the woods before their attackers descended with bullets. “Lucien!”

He groaned, turning his head back and forth. She tumbled from her seat, her body aching. “I need you to wake up.”

“Gun beneath the seat,” he murmured, his large body sucking up too much space.

“Get up,” she grunted, unbuckling him quickly. Her door was kicked easily open, despite the flimsy bottom of her tan sandal. “Everything flew around your car, I don’t know where your gun is.”

“Pants,” he told her. “Reach in—”

“Shut. Up,” she interrupted through gritted teeth. He was heavy, his body utterly solid. He helped, twisting and pushing until they were both on the forest ground. They’d fallen futher than she thought—Elain could see the head beams of a car far overhead, could hear the sound of people quietly talking, the sound of leaves rustling beneath feet as they worked to reach them.

“You need to run,” Lucien told her, looking at the same thing. His hair had come loose from his pony tail, falling in a tangled mass around his face and shoulders.

“You’ll die if I leave you,” she replied, her panic threatening to overwhelm her. “Just stand up—”

“Baby,” he murmured, grabbing her face. “Look at me. You need to run.”

Maybe it was the way he called her baby, an obvious attempt to inject some care and affection into a terrifying situation. Maybe it just the way he stressed his words. Elain looked up and then back at Lucien, cocking his gun from where he sat.

“Don’t die,” she murmured, scrambling to her feet. “I’ll fuck the new bodyguard if you do.”

He chuckled darkly, coughing softly. “Don’t worry, princess. You’ll be on your knees before the night is over.”

“I won’t be if you’re dead—”

“Elain. Run.”

And she did, flinging herself further down the mountainside. She wasn’t prepared, could hear her fathers voice berating her in her mind. Lainey. You know better.

And how she did. Never be caught off guard, never be caught unawares. She’d become complacent, had let herself believe this was no longer her life. She wanted to scream at the cloudy, dark sky over head. Its not my life!

And still it was. Behind her several shots rang out and she prayed it was Lucien who sent them, that he hadn’t been killed so thoughtlessly. It was all such a waste and for what? What could have angered Koschei so much he’d come after her like this? What had Feyre and Rhysand done?

She knew she’d messed up when she found the winding road they’d been thrown from, a shiny black sedan waiting for her. Guns in her face, drawing her attention away from those who held them. Elain looked beyond the barrel, and the gap toothed asshole grinning at her.

“Trunk for you, sweets.”

She nodded—even Feyre would think twice before arguing with a loaded gun. She let the man, whoever he was, and his partner pat her down, feeling every inch of her beneath their disgusting hands, chuckling the whole time. Once they were satisfied she had no gun, and not bothering to look for anything smaller, her wrists were zip tied brusingly tied.

“We got her. He dead? Good. Lets go.”

Elain was shoved into the cramped, carpeted trunk as if it were the first time someone had jammed her into such a space. She didn’t fight, didn’t betray any emotion at all. There was so space for emotion, not with her hands behind her back and her knife against her breasts.

He dead? Good.

The words rang in her chest. The bodyguard was dead. She barely knew him and still found it impossible. He’d just been alive. It was the problem with living the way he did, the way her father had. Someone was always after your job, your life. You were never really safe. How did Feyre and Nesta stand it?

She twisted until her arms were back in front of her, hands unfolding the nightmare knife Lucien had so casually gifted her. Perhaps he had some kind of foresight, had known things would go this way.

Don’t die. Words that apparently only applied to her. Elain Cut the plastic binding her with a soft grunt, listening for anything that would betray she’d been caught. The car continued, jolting to a stop quickly only to accelerate again. There was an escape latch, one she hesitated to pull. The moment the trunk flew open, she’d be caught. Hands might yank her through the seat—bullets might go whizzing for her.

Elain angled her body until the flat of her foot was against the taillight. How hilarious to send the cops after them, she considered, kicking violently. She just needed to see, needed some way to gauge when they were stopping so she could pull open the trunk and run.

Someone was on their tail, riding so close Elain would need to move fast when she got out. They were still travelling down backroads, still nearly alone.

Bullets rang through the silence, drawing Elain further into the interior of the trunk seeking safety. The car swerved violently for the second time that day, tossing Elain’s bruised body around like a rag doll.

She pulled the plastic latch, glowing softly in the darkness, and launched herself back into the night, the car still rolling. Feet slammed roughly against pavement, knocking her to her hands and knees for a moment. Elain scrambled back to her feet and took off running.

“Fuck!” someone screamed, their words silenced by a bullet. Elain ducked, plunging into the woods.

“Don’t stop running!” Lucien’s voice roared through the darkness, as though he’d sensed her hesitation. “I will find you!”

She surged forward, the only sound her sandals against the crisp fallen leaves and her breath, a soft pant. Elain wove in and out of the trees, sliding further down the side of the mountain as quickly as she could. She heard shots in the distance and then eerie silence, the kind that filled her with dread. The kind that reminded her of coming home after school, of finding her father bound to a chair with his eyes pulled, his tongue—

Rough hands caught Elain in a clearing, yanking her hard against them. Elain screamed softly, instinct overcoming her. Her elbow flew into their stomach, her head flying back to smash against their own. She heard a familiar grunt as she pulled out her knife, kicking Lucien’s bleeding body to the ground, knife pressed to his throat. Alive. Lucien, alive—

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured softly. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s me.”

“It’s you,” she repeated, letting him wrap his hand around her wrist. She could hardly see him in the darkness, could just barely make out his features.

“You’re okay,” he added. “You’re alive.”

Lucien sat upwards, holding her face in his hands. Job well done, she almost said. You made a mess of all of this.

She flung her arms around her neck, burying her face into his shoulder. “You’re alive.”

~*~

“Where is she?” Feyre asked in the early hours of the night. Lucien nodded towards the closed door where Elain slept, curled beneath a blanket after Lucien had all but shoved her into the bathtub. She hadn’t cried and he almost wished she had. She’d let him put her in that stolen car, wide eyed and pale faced, and bring her home.

“Got Cass cleaning things up. Stripping the car downtown…you left a lot of bodies behind.”

Lucien shrugged, his exhaustion wearing on him. “There were a lot of fuckers that needed to die. This isn’t Koschei, Rhys. Too messy, too much fire power.”

“Koschei’s still pissed about that thing with the girls,” Rhys reminded Lucien, joining him on the sofa. “There’s no one else.”

“No? They weren’t trying to kill her. Just capture her. Elain. Referred to her by name. Not bitch, not chick, Elain Archeron.”

Rhys shook his head helplessly. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe we keep her in the city from now on, though. Tighter watch. No long car trips, nowhere too exposed.”

“Maybe you should just put her back on a flight and send her back to L.A.”

“If someone is after her specifically, why the fuck would I do that?” Rhys demanded. “You gonna go out there with her? Indefinitely? She’ll have my goddamn balls. We handle this up here, on our turf.”

“Fine. Fix my fucking car.”

Rhys stood and his wife slipped from the bedroom, her face drawn. “She’s asleep. She’ll be okay.”

But if Feyre was reassuring Lucien, who’d watched Elain jump from a still moving car and press a knife to this throat, or herself. Lucien said nothing. “Will you ask her to call me when she wakes up?”

He nodded, only relaxing when they were gone and he knew, at least for the moment, everything was fine. Safe. He yanked off his shirt, intending to lay on the couch and sleep, when Elain called for him softly.”

“Lucien?”

He strode to the doorway, peering into the gloomy darkness. “Yes, princess?”

“Will you lay in here with me tonight?”

There was no brattiness to her tone, no innuendo. Only a sad vulnerability that made his chest ache.

“Okay,” he agreed. He went back to the living room for a pair of basketball shorts before sliding beneath the soft, blue blankets she’d already warmed with her body. For a long minute, Lucien lay utterly still, unsure if he should touch her or say something. Elain shifted, blonde hair spilling over her pillow.

“That wasn’t the first time,” she told him, falling into the space between their bodies easily. Lucien turned to his side, head propped on his arm. In the glow from the living room, Elain seemed troubled. She needed to say this and maybe he was the only one who could hear it. “I knew we were different when we were kids. Other families didn’t have as many guns, didn’t have dads teaching their daughters to cut open a throat. But to me that was just daddy. And…and it never really occurred me how different we really were until my mom died.”

Lucien resisted the urge to touch her, to offer her any sort of comfort. He recognized the hard set of her jaw, the rigid way she held herself. She didn’t want it—she didn’t want his pity.

“It was just me and daddy. Nesta and Feyre were somewhere else. We were driving to look at flowers for her funeral and someone shot at the car. Pulled me out by my ankles…threw me into the back a trunk.”

“What happened?” he murmured, watching her thoughtfully.

“I guess I was born under a lucky star,” she replied, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. “Dad came and blew them all away. I’d never seen anyone die before that day. He picked me up and we went home. It was just…all of it was so normal. Of course I should know how to get out of a trunk and of course I know how to get blood out of fabric and wood and concrete.”

She paused, taking a breath as if to steady herself. “When he died I swore I was done.”

“We’re born into the lives we belong in,” Lucien replied, raking his fingers through the feather softness of her hair.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she replied. “We have no control over the lives we’re born into but that doesn’t make it fated. I don’t want to always be looking over my shoulder, wondering who is coming for me. Who is coming for you, I—”

She stopped herself, fingertips pressed against her lips. “I didn’t mean…” she murmured after a moment, unaware of his runaway heart. He nodded because of course not. They were practically strangers, bonded over the near the death they’d both experienced. Lucien’s ribs still ached, his face was cut and bruised and if he was honest, he would have liked nothing more than for he to stop talking so he could go to sleep.

Elain sighed, unaware of how interesting she was to him. It was a cliché—the bosses daughter didn’t want any part of her family’s business, no matter how it had helped her in life. All that death had paid for her private education, her college degrees, the houses she’d lived in and the shoes she’d worn. And Elain still managed to scorn it. He might have said so if he felt like picking at her wounds.

“You found your father’s body.”

Her eyes were glassy. “I found his body,” she agreed. “And Lucien?”

“Hm?”

“It was a relief,” she whispered. He frowned, really seeing her in that moment. The hardness in her typically soft eyes, the rigid set of her body. Not from her fear, her exhaustion, but her anger. “I was free that day. Nesta and Feyre, they don’t understand. They were meant for other things but I—”

She cut herself off with a soft laugh. “Some women are hard,” he used to say. “Mother, Feyre, Nesta…they were hard women. He’d known it the moment he laid eyes on them.”

“And you?” Lucien asked, anger pooling hot in his stomach.

“Some women are wives,” she finished without heat, without emotion. “He imagined this dynasty, his vision of what this city could be hinged on a marriage I might make one day. Arranged by himself. Like we lived in the seventeenth century or something. ‘Elain is so beautiful, she’ll have her pick,’ he used to tell my mother.”

“You were eight—”

“His buddies had been waiting for years. Counting the days my senior year, dogging my steps. Who was gonna take Elain Archeron’s viriginity? Who was gonna marry Elain Archeron—”

His anger threatened to blind him. “And who did?”

Her smile was beatific. “An engineering major in my freshman dorm. He was clumsy and a little weird and had no idea who I was at all.”

“Best day of his life, I’ll bet,” Lucien teased, breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. Elain poked him in the ribs.

“It was awkward at the time but it’s a good memory because I got to decide. If dad had lived he would have made all those choices for me. My virginity was currency and he knew it. I wanted out. No more violence, no more men tying me up, strutting around with guns pointed at their dicks while they made aggressive eye contact.”

“How else will you know I’m only average in the bedroom?” Lucien joked softly. She smiled, then, poking him a second time.

“I know Feyre and Nesta want me to come home,” she murmured.

“Fuck them,” Lucien replied easily. “What do you do out in L.A., again?”

“I’m a costume curator,” she replied, her face brightening. He could almost forget the bruises and cuts streaked over her pretty face. Elain had that way about her. “If you’ve ever gone into a museum and seen an outfit in a case or on a mannequin, that’s my job.”

“I didn’t know people had jobs like that,” he murmured, his fingertips touching her cheek. Elain didn’t bat him away, didn’t do anything as she considered his words.

“Fashion is part of history. The colors, the textures, even the way people stich things together tells us something. What they valued…what secrets they had. I don’t know…it’s personal. I feel connected to the world, if that makes sense?”

Lucien had heard a lot of women talk about a lot of jobs. Usually something corporate, something they openly didn’t like and something they hoped he might take them away from. How many dates had ended with a girl telling him what charities she was passionate about? As if it were a job interview?

It’s not a date.

He wished it was, though. Lucien ran the pad of his thumb beneath her jaw. “Aren’t beautiful women supposed to be dumb?”

“Is this you flirting?” she shot back quickly, turning those liquid brown eyes on him with full force. “Because you suck at it.”

“Credit for trying?” he asked and Elain smiled, sighing as she pressed her body just a little closer.

“I know this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to go to sleep,” she murmured, her face as close as it had been when he’d had her pinned against the door. Had that just been that morning? It felt like a lifetime.

“Don’t,” he argued quickly, bringing his hand to rest over her soft stomach. “Let me apologize for my failure this evening.”

“You didn’t fail, Lucien,” she protested, her breath catching when his fingers slid down her abdomen, catching in the band of her sleep shorts.

“I did,” he disagreed, breath warm on her neck. “And when I fail, it’s me who gets on his knees.”

“Lucien—”

He ducked beneath the blanket, pretending he couldn’t hear her. Every inch of him ached, protested violently against what he was about to do. What the fuck was wrong with him, he wondered? She was under his skin, he decided. It only took her seventy two hours to get there. The best way to exorcise her from his mind was to fuck her—and in order to fuck her, it wouldn’t hurt to eat her out.

At least a little bit.

It was self-serving. Ignoring his own hurt body, Lucien positioned himself between Elains legs, ignoring how she laughed as he pulled her shorts off her body, still trapped beneath a blanket. “Lucien, I didn’t bring you in here for this,” she told him, unaware that he was now squinting against the dark, memorizing her pussy to memory.

“Then you shouldn’t have put that fucking swimsuit on earlier,” he replied, his voice half a growl as he lowered him.

She pushed the blanket off his face. “You liked that, did you?”

“I have eyes, don’t I?”

Fuck, she was pretty everywhere. A neatly groomed patch of hair greeted him with the same cheerfulness every other part of her did. It was so Elain to cut her body hair into the shape of a heart. She was familiar to him though he’d never met her before—like he’d always known her somehow.

“You barely looked at me,” she whispered, her breath coming harder than before. Lucien pushed her thighs wider, thumb brushing over the soft nub of flesh.

“Were you hoping I’d be disgusting?” he whispered, half forgetting what they were talking about. “Were—”

“Was I hoping you’d pull your cock out and fuck me against a wall?” she asked, fingering tangling in his hair. “Yes, I was.”

“You only have to ask,” he whispered, grinding his pelvis against the mattress.

“I don’t want to ask,” was all she said before Lucien lowered his mouth against her and took that first taste. She gasped, the sound nearly lost to the groan that escaped his lips. There was a sweetness to her, the scent musky and soft. He buried his face, chasing after it, spreading her pussy open wider so he could delve, could taste every inch of her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails digging against his scalp as she angled her hips, opening herself up. She was a gift. Lucien felt giddy, like it was Christmas and he’d been given the one thing he really wanted. Her. In that moment, Lucien couldn’t remember having ever wanted anything more in his entire life. He would have killed to get it.

Fingers curled against her skin, adding to the bruises already there. She writhed, dripping wet, hips canting against his face. He pinned her to the bed, pushing a finger into her. He knew he was frying her out, that he was driving her up too quickly, too hotly. It was his own lack of control, his inability to slow himself down. He needed to feel her, needed her to know what he could do to her.

A better man would have slowed down, would have dragged her out. Lucien still ached, his body screaming from the hunched position. A better man would have just gone to bed and had her when he’d had some rest and maybe some vitamin C. Lucien was not a good man, had never been accused of such. If she was offering herself up, legs spread, cunt willing than Lucien wasn’t going to say no. When was the last time he’d tasted a woman, besides? It felt like eons, a lifetime of waiting for her to spread herself out like five course meal.

She was fine dining and Lucien was starving. He was painfully hard, his cock protesting the moment he felt her tighten around his finger, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing, opening enough to push in a second—hardly a third. He couldn’t think straight, his tongue sliding over her swollen clit, pumping a rough, erratic rhythm through her. Fingers curled, finding the softness lurking within her tight heat.

Elain was mind numbingly hot. She bowed off the bed when he found what he was looking for, gasping his name like it was the only word she knew. He could feel her, wet and tight, sucking against his fingers like a seal, drawing him in further, against the skin of his dick, a special kind of torture his brain had decided on. Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her—

Elain came with a scream that could only be described as pure music, clenching painfully around him. Drawing him in—holding him like a vice. Lucien slowed himself, licking her languidly until she shoved at his face, panting for air.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes closed. He tried to swing himself from the bed, intending to dump the content of his balls in the toilet before he went to sleep but Elain surged forward, clasping his arm. “Stay. After that…please stay.”

Any other woman would have heard him say no. He had other needs, things he wanted to do. He wanted to sleep without her soft body and the scent of her jasmine hair keeping him awake all night, infecting his dreams.

“Alright,” he agreed, slipping back beneath the sheets. She turned to her side and Lucien, a masochist of the highest order, slid his arm beneath her neck and pulled her body against his own. One arm draped over her waist, hips angled so she couldn’t feel his erection. Elain pressed a kiss against his wrist.

No words. No clever quips.

He was sure he wouldn’t sleep.

And yet Lucien closed his eyes—and he was gone.

~*~

Elain left Lucien in her bed, face down, drooling a little against the pillow. His face was banged up and his bare back, exposed beneath the sliding blanket, featured the ugliest bruise she’d ever seen. Red hair half covered the handsome slant of his features. No man had the right to be so lovely, she thought. She was sure he had a line down the block of women hoping he’d notice them. And after what he’d done with his mouth, well…

Elain dressed into shorts and another tank, padding to the kitchen where Nesta and Feyre waited. Elain frowned. “When did you get here?”

Nesta’s smile became feline. “You two looked awfully cozy in there.”

Feyre only watched, perhaps not willing to push Elain too far. One hand rested on her still flat stomach, a protective gesture Elain didn’t think Feyre did consciously.

“We almost died,” Elain snapped, yanking open the fridge for a carton of orange juice.

“A powerful aphrodisiac,” Nesta murmured with an appreciative grin. “I remember the first time Cassian and I almost died. He came so fast—”

“We need to talk,” Feyre interrupted Nesta’s reminiscing. “About what happens after Nesta’s wedding.”

“I’m going back home,” Elain said immediately, recognizing that glint in Feyre’s eye. It was so…so dad. She was his spitting image in that moment, a feat considering Elain had always held that distinction.

“Rhys doesn’t think this is Koschei looking for revenge,” Feyre continued, ignoring Elain entirely. “And I don’t either. Kidnapping isn’t his style. He’s a hit and run, a quick bullet and plausible deniability. This was personal.”

“You cannot rope me back into this,” Elain insisted, her glass of juice forgotten in front of her. “And if you hold me against my will I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Nesta interrupted, her voice suddenly deadly and cold. “What will you do, Elain?”

The three stood there facing off. Elain, on her behind the kitchen bar and Feyre and Nesta on the other side, perched elegantly on stools. Just as it always had been. They were family and Feyre would write this off as protection, as family looking out for one another.

Elain would not stand for it.

“I’m not staying a day longer,” Elain told the two of them, letting some of that ice she’d inherited infect her words. “I have a life out there.”

“Do you, though?” Nesta sneered suddenly, her anger burning hot. “Besides your job—which you could do anywhere—what do you even have? You never talk about friends, you had that loser boyfriend who dumped you—”

“Okay, let’s not…let’s just take it down a notch,” Feyre interrupted quickly, making it plain she agreed with Nesta. “Be reasonable—”

“NO! No, don’t tell me to be reasonable when you both know how much I fucking hate this place!” Elain shrieked. “If you’re happy that’s wonderful but I will never be! Not here, not ever!”

“Because you won’t try!” Feyre suddenly exploded, jumping from her chair. “You never tried! You were always going to leave, always thought you were better—”

“Did you know about Hybern?” Elain asked the two, her anger threatening to engulf her.

“He killed dad—”

“Did you ever figure out why?” she hissed. “Why dads best friend suddenly betrayed him, killed him like that?”

Neither said a word. Elain swallowed hard, fingers curled to fists as she divulged the one secret she’d never wanted to share. Had buried so deep she’d all but forgotten it existed at all. “You two were exempt from fathers match making. He was always going to make you part of his business but I was supposed to get married—”

“You never wanted to be,” Nesta said quickly, perhaps guessing where Elain was going. Feyre put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

“I wasn’t given a choice! After mother died, father laid our whole futures out. Of course you and Feyre didn’t mind staying. I would have too if he saw me as anything other than breeding material! You two got to date and what did I get? A baseball bat at the door for anyone that he didn’t personally handpick. And it was Hybern who’d outbid everyone else, who dad swore I’d marry. After college, of course,” Elain added with a dry laugh.

“Elain, he didn’t—”

“He tried,” she snapped. “And took a knife to the leg for his trouble. And when father found out, he called the whole thing off. Embarrassing, he said. I had just turned eighteen, Hybern was in his thirties. It wasn’t forbidden romance…he’d watched me grow up. I hated him. I guess a little violence under our own roof was enough to make dad act. And he was dead by the end of the week, a note pinned against his chest. Only cowards break a promise.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” Feyre demanded while Nesta drummed her fingers against the marble. “Why would you keep this a secret?”

“You were grieving—”

“We could have handled it!” Nesta snapped. “You left us but fuck you, Elain. We would never have left you.”

Heavy silence hung in the air, the accusation weighty. Feyre’s eyes were sad, arms tight around her body.

“He wasn’t perfect,” Feyre started but Elain shook her head.

“He was a bastard and you’ve sanitized that legacy. Made it worth something. I can’t…” she shook her head. “I can’t be part of this.”

Nesta rose, running her hands primly over her tight sheath dress. “Well, at least we know why you’re the target. Hybern never once forgot a slight. I’d keep Vanserra a lot closer than in your bed if you’re going to spurn our help.”

Elain sighed, exasperated. “I’m not spurning your help, Nes. I’m telling you I don’t want to be part of this?”

“But why not?” Feyre demanded softly. “Dad is dead. He can’t make those choices for you anymore. You could have a place here if you wanted it.”

“And am I still family if I don’t?” Elain challenged, ignoring the way Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Your hands aren’t so clean, Elain,” Feyre whispered, glancing towards Elain’s bedroom door. As if she knew Lucien might be awake now, might not know the own atrocities Elain had once committed. “Aren’t you tired of your sanitized life?”

“Kingslayer,” Nesta whispered, the word a mockery.

“Don’t you dare,” Elain hissed.

“The only person holding you back now is you. You want your quiet little boring life but you are far too grand to belong to it,” Nesta continued. “You could be great. You only lack imagination.”

“If you go back to L.A., no one can protect you,” Feyre added softly.

“He let me go once,” Elain reminded her sisters.

“Because he was in prison,” Nesta replied softly, swallowing the harsh edges of her words. “For tax fraud. He let you go because he had to but Elain, he’s been out for a year and I think he’s been looking for you.”

“Don’t go back. Not until he’s dead at least,” Feyre pleaded. Elain opened her mouth, prepared to start another round of fighting when Lucien strode out, shirtless and sleepy despite the bright, calculated look on his face. As though he knew exactly what kind of warzone he walked into.

“Good morning ladies,” he said easily, flopping to the couch.

“Sleep well?” Nesta crooned, shooting a look towards Elain.

“Like a fucking baby,” he replied without a second glance, his phone already in his hand. “Big plans I should know about?”

“Maybe some swimming at the house later?” Feyre suggested, immediately becoming an immaculate hostess. Lucien didn’t glance at her.

“Maybe,” he dismissed, a no if Elain had ever heard it.

“We should go,” Nesta told Feyre, nodding towards the door. “We have dress fittings tomorrow though. Don’t forget.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Elain said pointedly, a reminder that for her, this conversation was over. For Feyre and Nesta, twins in that moment, with their matching silvery blue eyes and their burnished brown hair, it was merely a battle they were willing to concede in the larger war. Feyre and Nesta left and Elain, suddenly wrung out, gulped down her juice before slamming her cup into the sink.

“Want to talk about it?”

“With you?” she scoffed, the memory of his face between her legs rising hotly. “No.”

He didn’t react, betrayed no sadness, no hurt. He merely arched a brow, still staring at his phone. “Whatever you say…Kingslayer.”

She froze, hating Nesta for saying that word. How could Elain explain that night, gun in her sweaty hands as she gazed at Prythian’s Kingpin, an old school mobster who’d terrorized the city for decades? How he’d sneered at her, only sixteen years old. Pull the trigger little girl, he’d taunted.

And she had. Without flinching. No regret. Only a warning—Don’t you touch my sisters. The media had given her the nickname, the mysterious Kingslayer. No one but the three of them, and she supposed, no Lucien, knew it had been her who’d put that bullet in his brain, who’d stepped over his still warm body to untie her trembling sisters. Blood splattered over her face. No one ever talked about how bullets were hardly clean. Blood and brain splattered everywhere like a watermelon under pressure.

She’d drug his body to the street, determined the city would know he was dead. No one could rise and take his place. Of course, someone did: Rhysand. His protegee, the heir to that empire. He should have been their natural enemy. Certainly Rhys knew it was the Archeron’s who’d killed his uncle.

And he’d married Feyre. It was the biggest fuck you Elain had ever seen in her life. “Don’t call me that,” Elain snapped, walking into the bedroom. She stared at the rumpled sheets, proof the two of them had shared something the night before.

“You prefer princess?” he crooned against her back. And Elain would never admit what she preferred was the way he called her baby when he thought she was scared. She said nothing at all.

She merely snapped the door closed between them.

~*~

Lucien tired of the closed door around noon. Kingslayer. The word echoed through his mind, bouncing like a ping pong ball. He could still remember that day, the relief everyone had felt knowing the bastard was dead. No more payouts, Eris had crowed gleefully behind their fathers back. No more being hassled by a mobster that could barely read, no more bruisers showing up to fancy affairs with baseball bats. No more bullets sprayed in residential neighborhoods, killing kids that had nothing to do with their life just because he would.

Lucien had his theories. Everyone did. They always circled back to Rhysand. He had the most to gain and almost nothing to lose. He’d risen immediately, a phoenix from the ashes in that expensive Dolce suit. Lucien knew his father had met with Rhysand before his uncle’s body was ever laid to rest.

Elain. Pretty, bubbly Elain. He had to see her, to try and imagine how she’d done it. Why she’d done it. Archeron’s princess, his prized daughter…killing one of his allies. Lucien wondered how Feyre and Rhysand had ended up together. Did he know? What would happen to Elain if he found out?

Lucien’s body tightened at the thought, his heart pumping adrenaline through the rest of him. He pushed open her door, expecting to find her sulking beneath the blankets. She’d made the bed, the television playing softly, some show he’d never seen. Elain had opened the balcony doors, dressed casually, her hair blowing softly against the wind. She sensed him when he stepped in the doorframe.

“He was going to kill Nesta,” Elain said without turning. “I thought Feyre was already dead. We were celebrating that night. Nesta got into her first choice college. We’d snuck away, slid past the bodyguards for some actual fun and King, well…he was waiting. Feyre fought, of course. I think she knew what he’d do to us the moment we pulled into the Dock District.”

“How did you get a gun?” Lucien asked, walking to her as though his body were pulled by strings. He’d never been so entranced in his life. Elain gripped the metal railing, gazing outwards at the forest of skyscrapers surrounding her, as though she could see it happening in the dizzying daylight.

“Nesta and Feyre fought, so I thought if I pretended I was willing to comply he’d just…forget I was there. It used to happen a lot when we were growing up. Feyre and Nesta had big personalities…I could hide in their shadows if I wanted. While he beat Feyre I untied myself and just waited. He had this mattress pushed to the corner of the room and when he grabbed Nesta by her scalp to take her to it, I just…took his gun.”

Lucien swallowed his revulsion. “Elain…baby. How old were you?”

She turned those soft brown eyes on his face. “Sixteen.”

At sixteen Lucien had spent his days getting high and chasing girls. And Elain… “You shot him?”

She glanced back at the city, her knuckles white. “He told me to. I held it just to scare him. I told him to get away from my sisters…and he said, ‘Go ahead, sweetheart. Pull the trigger.’ And I did.”

“Why wouldn’t you claim credit?” Lucien murmured. Elain could have run the city. She could have taken her fathers empire, risen like a Goddess and forced even Beron Vanserra to bow at her feet.

“I didn’t kill him to become some sort of folk hero,” she replied. “I just…I wanted to go home.”

“Does Rhys know?”

She whipped her head towards Lucien. “He knows it was one of us. If Feyre told him the truth after they married, he’s never shared that with me. But he knew when he was pursuing her it was an Archeron who killed his Uncle. I think it made him like her more.”

Lucien’s relief was immediate. “So…Hybern.”

Elain’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Hybern,” she agreed. For a moment, neither of them said a word, standing on the little balcony that overlooked the city, eyes sweeping the ground as though they’d see the man himself standing just below. Watching. Lucien didn’t doubt Hybern had eyes on them at that very moment, assessing his prey. Wondering how he’d get close. What did Hybern know about Elain?

“If we were smart, we’d lure him out,” she murmured, releasing the hold on the railing. “Force him out of the rathole he’s hiding in.”

“And how do you imagine we’d go about that?” Lucien replied. Elain glanced at him sideways.

“If he’s obsessed…jealousy can be an ugly thing.”

“Jealousy.”

“Yes, Lucien. Jealousy. I don’t want to be shoved into another trunk because I sat around waiting for him to find me. I want to draw him out, I want him so angry he’s uncontrolled, he’s not rational—”

“I’m not using you as bait,” he responded flatly. Feyre would kill him, first of all. Would have his balls for dinner before mounting his head over her fireplace. It wasn’t fear, though, that made him say no. It was his own simmering jealousy, just as Elain described, that made him tell her no. The emotion was a punch to his gut, surprising him. Filling him with discomfort.

“Of course you will,” Elain retorted, unaware of the emotions roiling through him. “Assume he doesn’t know you’re being paid to guard me. Hybern is a low-born bastard that imagines himself as a King. What must it feel like, watching me fall in love with a Vanserra?”

Her words were soft, steely. There was no affection in how she said them, no sentimentality. It ought to have relieved him.

It disappointed him.

“No.”

“Yes,” she insisted. “I want to go home, Lucien. It could take months for Rhys to smoke him out. Are you prepared to live with me for that long?”

He shrugged. “It’s a paying job, isn’t it?”

“For you. What about me? What about my job, my life—” she cut herself off, swallowing the emotion rising in her words. “Please help me with this.”

He turned to face her, one elbow resting on the railing. “So you want, what? Me to cavort about town bragging—”

“I want to go out,” she interrupted, eyes narrowed. “I want you to touch me like it’s the only thought in your head. Like you’ll die if your lips leave mine. I want you on your metaphorical knees, swaggering around like a man who knows what it feels like to be inside my body.”

His cock responded with interest immediately, thickening in his pants. “And you?”

Elain smiled, closing the distance between them to press a hand against his chest. “You think I don’t know how to be lovesick?”

She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, lips parted, hand sliding up his chest, resting at the back of his neck. Lucien’s heart pounded in his chest. “And you think this will draw him out?”

“I think he can’t stand the thought of someone else touching what he believes is his,” she whispered, thumb rubbing maddeningly soft touches against his skin. He was so hard, the taste of her still burned against his mouth. “And we’ll be waiting.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Lucien whispered, hating that he was about to agree with her. Feyre was definitely going to kill him.

“Because you’re so attracted to me?” Elain teased, her other hand reaching for the button on his pants.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Because you could die, Elain. I need you to hear me say that I don’t mind waiting while we smoke him…out…” her hand rubbed against his erection, covered only by the fabric of his briefs.

“This will be fun,” she assured him, starting to fall to her knees. Lucien caught her, yanking her back into the suite, out of sight of anyone who might be watching. Elain scowled a little, her hand still mercifully touching his penis.

“Do you want me to beg to suck it?” she taunted.

“Of course I do, but more importantly, I don’t want that stupid fuck watching you fuck me. Do you understand me, Elain? If you want to tease me for his cameras, fine. But the minute pretend becomes reality I want you to assume he has some imagination because I will kill anyone who sees you undressed.”

“Possessive,” she whispered, sinking back to the floor. “That’s oddly hot, you know.”

She wasn’t taking him seriously and it irked him. “You’re a brat, you know?”

Her lips curled in a teasing mile. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

He ran a hand over his eyes. His first thought was to pinch her nose and force his cock into the back of her throat, to silence her entirely until she learned her lesson. “Beg, Elain.”

He freed himself from his pants, holding his cock in one hand while she stared for a moment. “Good for you, Lucien,” she murmured appreciatively in a rare moment of sincerity.

“Beg, or I’ll put it away.” It’s a lie, one he knows she caught, judging by the gleam in her eye. He waited for a moment, expecting her to call him on it, to challenge him. Instead, Elain ran her tongue over her lips, looking back up with the roundest set of eyes he’d ever seen his life.

“Please let me suck your cock,” she asked breathlessly. He could have come at the sight of her alone, at the sound of her words.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his brain taking over some of his ability to speak. He felt wild, almost desperate. He’d all but forgotten how shitty this plan was, how it was certainly going to get one of them killed. He suspected she knew that, too. She understood how to secure his cooperation, was willing to fuck and suck him if it meant she got what she wanted in the end.

Was it what he wanted? Lucien didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, not when he was rubbing the head of his dick against her swollen pink lips. Not when she did exactly as he said, opening her mouth, tongue flattened. Never breaking eye contact. Still holding himself in his hand, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her waiting tongue.

Pleasure shot through him like a bullet, ricocheting through his chest. “Goddamn it, Elain,” he whispered. From her knees, tongue still sticking from her mouth, Elain looked like a Queen. She wiggled her hips, triumphant. Lucien knew he could still stop, that a better man would have held firm. He could take himself out when she fell asleep and let any number of women suck him dry.

He slid himself in her mouth, releasing his hold on his shaft to thread his fingers through her hair. Lucien was not a good man. Had never been a good man. And Elain wasn’t like the other women he usually fucked. There was no coyness there, no pretend affection to get what she wanted. She’d seen him, had sized him up likely the very first second they ever met. Doe eyes cutting right the heart of him, where every depraved fantasy lived.

She wanted out of this city and he supposed licking his dick was a small price to pay. Her own hand curled around him, fingers just barely touching. She could only take half before she began gagging, saliva slipping from her lips to pool against his balls. Not that she didn’t try. Every third pump was punctuated by a soft gagging moan as she worked to adjust. For a few moments, Lucien did nothing but hold her head, thumbs rubbing against her jaw.

She knew exactly what she was doing, her lips tucked beneath her teeth. She alternated between sliding her tongue beneath his shaft, swirling it against the sensitive tip of his head, and letting the crown of his cock rub against the inside of her velvety soft cheek. Combined with her hand working the rest of him, Lucien is practically bucking. Each second is a lifetime, the pleasure ripping through him.

There is an elegance to her touches, a grace he’s certain he’s never felt. It’s disgusting, it’s sloppy and still he swears there is an affection to each slide of her mouth. Pride, he supposed, no matter her intent. And just like the night before, when he could not control himself long enough to draw out her pleasure, Elain too does not seem concerned with keeping him over her for any length of time. Lucien surged, his pleasure building upwards quickly, hotter than he’d ever felt it.

He held her still, needing to snap his hips, to simulate fucking her in some small way. Elain didn’t protest, though her nails dug into his thigh when he pushed too far, his cock hitting something far softer than before, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Sorry,” he whispered, the words a groan. The bite of pain only added to his enjoyment. He made a mental note to tell her afterwards, to give her explicit permission to hurt him a little if she ever found herself riding his cock with her pussy instead of her mouth. The action of thrusting did little to settle Lucien’s unbridled lust.

“I’m going to come on your face,” he told her, each word more grunt than anything. Her eyes blazed with defiance, nails sharp against his thighs again. He knew what thought. Don’t touch my hair.

Lucien gathered as much as he could, balls tight against his body. His was out of control, lost in the wet, warm heat of her pretty little mouth. Pull out, his mind screamed, Pull out or—

He groaned, thrusting back into her throat. Her gag propelled him over the edge, pouring cum straight down her throat, his lack of self-control on full display.

Elain let him, holding still for a full ten seconds before she finally yanked her head back, releasing his grip on her head. He watched her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. His cock throbbed, his body spent and so sensitive the breeze coming from the open balcony doors was too much.

“I consider that as good as a handshake,” Elain told him, rising shakily to her knees.

Nine days. They had nine days to shake out Hybern before her flight was scheduled to leave. Lucien yanked up his pants with a breath. “I hope you like shaking hands then, princess.”

She smiled, dipping her head, cheeks flushed. “Earn it.”

Lucien exhaled loudly.

He intended to.

#elucien #elucien au #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #this is really more of a bodyguard au #but sometimes i think its sexy of elain to also be a bit of a badass #like yeah yeah she can bake #but what if she could also shoot a man in the face?#i just think that would be sexy of her #this is bratty elain #and exasperated lucien #at my finest #unhinged as per usual #and brought to you by: daydrinking #daydrinking: for when your friends actively encourage you to keep going until you sing a karaoke rendition of gold digger #that no one asked for #it was....not good for the record

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madlori · 4 years

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A quick primer on Schitt’s Creek

So apparently going by the comments on some of my fics I’ve done the thing where some of you who have been reading my fanfic a lot over the years want to read my newest stories without ever having seen the canon source material! You are all valid and I support you.

So I thought it might be nice to write a bit of a primer on the show so you at least know what these people look like and who they are.

First of all I recommend just...uh, watching the show! It really is fantastic, and not just because of the amazing queer normalization. It’s funny and surprising and strange and heartwarming.

Caveat. A lot of people struggle with the first season. It is true that some viewers find it a rough start. The Roses all have significant character arcs and to do that you have to start from somewhere, let’s say. Also the tone of the show and its pace changed markedly between seasons two and three, which is when Dan Levy took over as head writer and they got a bunch of new writers. But even if you’re not quite feeling it from the first episode (I did not have this problem but some people do) I promise, you will be rewarded. And it’s fast, the episodes are only 20 minutes, so.

So! WTF even is this show.

The Premise: The wealthy Rose family lose all their money when their finance guy absconds with it having never paid taxes. They’re left with nothing but the clothes (and wigs) on their backs and the ownership of a small town called Schitt’s Creek that father Johnny once bought for his teenage son as a joke. They relocate there and move into a dilapidated motel, thanks to the good graces of the town’s rednecky mayor, Roland Schitt (Chris Elliott). There they occupy two adjoining rooms, the parents in one and siblings in the other.

The Roses

Johnny (Eugene Levy) - Patriarch Johnny Rose made his money with a chain of video stores. Johnny is the straight man of the family, finding himself constantly shepherding his dramatic spouse and offpsring.

Moira (Catherine O’Hara) - a former soap opera star, Moira is a creature not of this reality, it sometimes seems. She is an eccentrically outlandish persona who cares deeply for her family but is often befuddled as to how to handle those emotions or express them.

David (Dan Levy) - firstborn son David is probably the character most viewers connect with first and more strongly, for a variety of reasons. His personal arc(s) are really the show’s emotional backbone. A former gallerist and pansexual aesthete, David is constantly frustrated by the Incorrectness of everything happening to the family.

Alexis (Annie Murphy) - younger sister and socialite, kind of a Coachella girl, who has spent most of her life globetrotting and getting herself mixed up in outlandish scenarios (it’s a running joke on the show for her to drop in “That one time when I was...” stories as offhand remarks). David is very protective of her even though they fight constantly, and often bailed her out of her Situations when their parents were too caught up in their own stuff.

The Honorary Roses

While the central “character” of the show is the Rose family, in my opinion there are six core characters, which includes these two.

Stevie Budd (Emily Hampshire) - Employee of (and later owner of) the motel where the Roses fetch up. She is David’s best friend and the first person in town he connects with. She is snarky and deadpan and sarcastic. She and David have a short-lived romantic/sexual relationship which ends amicably in season two, but their close friendship remains an important part of the show (yet another thing SC does that’s quietly revolutionary - feature exes who decided to be just friends and then actually do that). She later develops a strong surrogate-father relationship with Johnny as he becomes the co-owner of the motel.

Patrick Brewer (Noah Reid) - David’s business partner, and by the end of the show, husband. Although the show has a great deal to offer apart from this, a lot of people watch mostly for the David & Patrick relationship (which is fine, it’s a big part of the show). Note: if you are watching for this, Patrick does not appear in the show until the mid-third season. At first Patrick seems like an oasis of down-to-earth normalcy amidst all these larger-than-life personalities but it doesn’t take long to realize he’s actually an enormous troll who expresses his love for David by gently roasting him constantly.

And the Others - The show is an ensemble, and apart from these six folks, includes a lot of great secondary characters. Veternarian Ted Mullens (Alexis’s on/off boyfriend), Mayor Roland Schitt and his wife Jocelyn (who is one of my favorite characters), town council curmudgeons Ronnie and Bob, cafe waitress Twyla (played by Dan Levy’s sister Sarah), the local all-gender Casanova woodworker Jake, and the Schitts’ adult son Mutt, Alexis’s first hookup in town.

The Arc: This show is about how the Rose family - who have historically been distant and disconnected - had to lose all their money to find themselves as a family, and later, for each of them to find new fulfillment for themselves. They start out chafing and struggling to get out of this new reality, trying to find a way to sell the town, get “back to normal,” but gradually, they fit themselves into the community. Their family reconnection is pretty strong by the end of S2 (the final scene of that season was my first teary moment) and starting in S3, each of them finds a way to rediscover themselves. Johnny invests in the motel and in Stevie. Moira joins the town council and the local women’s a cappella singing group. Alexis goes back to school and starts pursuing a career in public relations. David takes over a vacant general store and turns it into the Rose Apothecary (which you have probably seen on merch everywhere), a venue for local artisans to sell what they make. It is through this venture that he meets Patrick, who first consults and then decides to invest and become David’s partner in the store.

The show is at the same time outlandish, hilarious, touching, abrasive and over the top. The Roses are over-the-top characters - especially Moira, who speaks in an unidentifiable accent and uses words that may or may not exist - and the story seems to exist in a kind of alternate reality (it’s a fandom joke that the timeline of the show makes no sense - it doesn’t - and it is always summer in SC except for one time when it was Christmas). There is also, by design, no homophobia in Schitt’s Creek. The various iterations of queer characters and relationships aren’t just represented, they’re normalized in a way that I didn’t know I was missing until I saw it.

Plus, it’s fun. Like many of Eugene Levy’s previous works (although the show is really Dan’s creation), the show makes use of musical set pieces. Probably the most famous is the iconic mid-season 4 episode “Open Mic” in which Patrick and David host an open mic night at the store and Patrick serenades David with an acoustic cover of Tina Turner’s “The Best” (arranged by actor Noah Reid, who is IRL a talented singer-songwriter, check out his albums, they’re great). It’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever seen, made more poignant by the really remarkable face journey David goes through as he listens.

Well, have a look.

youtube

Another big moment was season 5′s production of “Cabaret,” directed by Moira and Jocelyn and starring Patrick as the Emcee and Stevie as Sally Bowles. The rehearsals and performance were mined for a lot of great moments.

Anyway, that’s the gist. Probably more than you wanted or needed.

#schitt's creek

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our-time-is-now · 3 years

Text

July 19, 2019 (2): Dreaming of an empty flatshare

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Friday, 10:34 am / 11:42 am / 7:08 pm:

David: *grins and shakes his head* I made this statement completely unbiased! *but then hears that he believes in it himself and also that Hanna has said something along those lines and nods* You see! *squeezes him close and keeps one arm around his waist when he pulls away again* *immediately shakes his head at his question* I don’t think so… it’s a youth center… Well, I wouldn’t show up there in sweatpants, but just a normal jeans and t-shirt combo? That should be enough… Or jeans and a shirt? *then hears Sam yell: “Daaaaveeeenziiii! Breeeeeakfaaaaast!"* *groans quietly* If today continues like yesterday and we don’t even have two minutes to ourselves, can we please try to escape!?

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Of course… *can’t help but to grin again, because that could really work out* *then nods slightly* Yes, I think I’ll go for jeans and a shirt – nothing too much but also not too casual… *then also hears Sam’s yells and sighs* Definitely… we’ll abscond… that has to work out today… *then hears her yell again and yells back* WE’RE COMING! *wraps his arm around David and they go to the cabin*

David: *sighs half-smilingly, half frustratedly, when Matteo agrees to escape and presses another kiss to his cheek after he yelled in the direction of the cabin* *then goes to the cabin with him and sees that the others are all really already awake and sitting at the breakfast table* *grins at everyone* Good morning! Why are you up so early?! *hears Kiki: "The sun is shining, today's a nice day, we have many plans..."* *groans quietly and then hears Sam: "Counter question: What took you so long!?”* *smiles at Matteo so that he can tell them, and already sits down on his seat* *reaches for the coffee pot and pours some for Matteo and himself*

Matteo: *groans slightly when Kiki says that they have many plans* Like what? *then hears Sam's question and grins immediately* *sits down on his seat next to David and briefly grins at Hanna before he announces it* The youth center where I want to do my Voluntary Year called... they want to meet me and invited me to an interview... *can hear that Hanna is the first one to cheer before the others join in* *sees Hanna come to him and hug him: "I'm so happy for you, congratulations!”* *gets a little embarrassed and waves it off* Thanks...

David: *smiles when everyone cheers and when Hanna even gets up to hug Matteo* *cuts open two bread rolls and already puts one of them down on Matteo’s plate while somehow everyone is talking over each other* *hears Sam: “Oh God, and I yelled so loudly! Sorry if I interrupted!” and Abdi: “Would be awesome if that worked out – then all of us would really have found something immediately after the Abi!” and Hanna: “I’m sure it’ll work out! Oh, I really want it to work out! I don’t want to go to those seminars by myself…” and Kiki: “Do we still have champagne!? We should actually toast to it!” and Carlos: “Well, he doesn’t have the job yet! We’ll toast once he has it for sure!” and Mia: “Which youth center did you apply to, Matteo? Do we know it?”* *grins over at Matteo, who is suddenly the center of attention, while he starts spreading butter on the bread roll halves* *feels his annoyance toward the group disappear and once again thinks how great it is how much everyone can be happy for the others*

Matteo: *is a little overwhelmed and in awe of the reaction* *agrees with Carlos that he doesn’t have the job yet* Yes, we’ll toast once I know for certain… and then properly. *grins slightly* *then looks at Mia and slightly shakes his head* No, I don’t think so, well, I didn’t know it before… it’s called Lambda… *hesitates briefly but then says* I’s a youth center especially for queer youth… *hears Abdi immediately say: “Well, then they’ll surely take you!”* *pffs slightly* Being gay isn’t enough to get hired, Abdi.

David: *puts a slice of cheese on one of the halves and pushes it over onto Matteo’s plate* *then reaches for the salami while Matteo tells them what kind of youth center Lambda is* *grins slightly at Abdi’s words and then hears Carlos: “Hey, but maybe you can score some extra points if you say that your boyfriend is transgender and you know a lot about that topic and such…”* *laughs quietly and says to Matteo* You’re welcome to make use of that fact to score some extra points… *but then tells Carlos and Abdi* … but I also don’t really think that it matters. Of course it’s nice if you know something about the topic, but as a cis and/or hetero person you can also do some research and inform yourself and be tolerant, as you can see with all of you guys. *reaches for the jam while he keeps talking* But I still think that they’ll take Matteo. Somehow that fits and they’ll surely see it the same way… *spreads jam on the next half and then looks at Matteo questioningly because he isn’t sure if he’d rather have salami or jam to his cheese roll*

Matteo: *grins slightly at Carlos’ words and slightly shakes his head* *tells him and also David* I’ll definitely won’t exploit it… but I’ll still tell them… I do need September 13th off, after all… *then nods again at David’s words* Exactly, it’s about the fact that you can work with young people… and a homophobic or transphobic person wouldn’t apply in the first place, right? *then smiles slightly when David says that he thinks they’ll take him* *also hears Jonas agree: “Definitely, Luigi, they’d be stupid if they didn’t!”* *then looks at his plate and sees that there’s already half a bread roll for him* *looks at David and quietly says* Thanks… *then sees him look at the halves questioningly and grins* Salami, please…

David: *smiles slightly when Matteo mentions September 13th and murmurs* But only mention it if it’s the right moment… *doesn’t want him to maybe not get the job just because he really wants to take that day off and plans on talking to him about it again before the interview on Wednesday* *still hears the girls “aww” at his plan – except Sam, who asks: “Huh? What’s on September 13th?” and who consequently gets hit by Kiki* *then nods at Matteo’s words and only smiles when he thanks him for the bread roll* *also pushes the half with the salami on it onto Matteo’s plate and reaches for the salami again for the fourth bread roll half* *then hears Jonas: “Umm, David, and I’d like one half with ham and one half with jam, no butter but instead with cream cheese…”* *gives him the secretary’s-office-look and says* You had time to fix your own food! Matteo had to answer your questions! *then laughs briefly* Besides, you have Hanna! *sees Jonas turn to Hanna and hears him say: “Hanna, I’d like one half with ham and one half with jam, no butter but instead with cream cheese…” and sees Hanna flip him off* *hears Kiki: “Well, I think it’s really cute of David to fix Matteo’s food – you could also do that for a change, Carlos!”* *groans quietly and hopes that their relationship won’t be discussed again* *before Carlos or someone else can say anything else he quickly asks* So what are the plans for today? Why did we have to get up so early?

Matteo: *doesn’t say anything to David’s objection* *knows that he doesn’t want him to risk anything but he’s really sure that he would even drop the job if that means he can be there on this day* *doesn’t pay any more attention to Sam when she asks and then grins at Kiki gratefully when she hits Sam* *smiles at David when he pushes the salami half on his plate* Thanks… *pffs when Jonas puts his order with David* *was just about to make a comment when David already defends himself* *laughs when Hanna flips him off* *then also hears Kiki and grins* *thinks it’s somehow funny that he and David are suddenly such a poster couple* *thinks that they are not doing it “because they could do that for a change” but because it’s just what they do* *grins slightly when David smoothly changes the subject* *then hears Kiki: “Mia has told me about a great meadow she found on a walk with Alex. We all wanted to go there, with blankets and food for a picnic and a lot of sports stuff, badminton, volleyball and stuff like that and then I thought we could hold a little tournament there…”* *groans very loudly* Noooo….

David: *is glad that they are really changing the subject and listens to Kiki while taking a bite off his bread roll* *thinks the idea is actually quite good and nods* *then hears Matteo groan and elbows him in the side* Come on – this is going to be fun! *hears Amira: “We thought we could stay there over lunch – hence the food!” and Mia: “But unfortunately the meadow is quite a bit away from the lake, that’s why we are planning on coming back in the afternoon so that we can all go for another swim. It’s our second-to-last day today, after all!” and Abdi: “But we’ll definitely also bring a football!” and Kiki: “And tonight another game night! So far, we only had one game night and we only played Taboo. I don’t want to have brought all the other games in vain!”* *frowns, after all, when he realizes that the whole day has been planned out once again and briefly looks over at Matteo* *hopes that they can really abscond at some point*

Matteo: *sighs when David also likes the idea* *rolls his eyes and shrugs* Okay… *takes a sip of his coffee and then hears the rest of the plan* *hears that the day is completely planned out and the evening, as well, and is annoyed again* *wonders why this doesn’t annoy any of the other couples and if he’s really so different* *looks at David and whispers very quietly* What did we say about an escape attempt?

David: *grins slightly at Matteo’s words and is glad and grateful that he has a similar opinion* *leans over to him and quietly says* Yes, please! If not before, then during the game night at the latest! *looks at the others and thinks that they’re all looking quite content, apart from Alex* *meets his gaze and grins slightly* *thinks that he probably also doesn’t really feel like having a game night* *but finds it somehow strange that the other couples somehow don’t seem to mind not having time to themselves* *reaches for Matteo’s hand under the table while Kiki goes over the plan again: “So, Abdi, Sam and Amira are on kitchen duty. The others can go to the bathroom and those who aren’t in the bathroom can already start packing and making sandwiches for lunch…”*

Matteo: *eventually they all arrive at the meadow* *they spread out blankets on the floor, Kiki puts down two water bottles on each of the blankets and the group spreads out a little* *Amira immediately claims David to practice badminton and Matteo finds himself on a blanket with Jonas and Carlos* *at first watches the others for a while* *then sees Hanna and Kiki with a volleyball and looks at the two guys beside him* *thinks that those are his best friends and he can ask them* Guys, doesn’t this bother you? I mean, group stuff is nice and everything and that’s why we’re on this holiday… but no alone-time, is that really not a problem for you?

Jonas: *is sprawled out on the blanket leaning on his elbows* *is somehow also still a little tired and hopes that by moving around it will soon be better but can’t really make himself move just yet – probably just like Carlos and Matteo* *watches the girls play volleyball but then looks at Matteo when he says something to him and Carlos* *thinks about Matteo’s question while Carlos already answers: “Sure, I sometimes feel like this… but I don’t stand a chance against Kiki. Even when we’re laying in bed at night, she’s already planning the next day or philosophizes about the previous one. That’s just really her thing. And urging her about it is no use. As long as she’s happy… everything’s alright!”* *shrugs and then says* Well it doesn’t really bother me. I really do think it’s also interesting to learn a little more about the others for a change. I think Hanna feels similar about this. Of course at night in the tent it’s also nice to be alone with her, but during the day it’s okay the way it is. *looks at Matteo scrutinizingly* Why do you ask, Brudi? Do you miss alone-time?

Matteo: *listens to the two of them and feels his suspicion confirmed that he’s apparently really different* *looks to David and Amira and sees David laugh when Amira has to dive after the ball* *looks back at Jonas when he hears his question* *shrugs and then says honestly* Yes, somehow I do… it’s not that I don’t like hanging out with you guys… but… *shrugs one shoulder* But not having to think about the next topic on the agenda… or without the fear that someone’s going to interrupt… *sees Carlos nod and hears him say: “Yes, I get it… but it’s only two more days, Brudi…”* *sighs slightly and nods* Yes, I know…

Jonas: *nods at Matteo’s words and then also glances at David and then back at Matteo* Okay I can totally understand that you’re afraid that someone is going to interrupt… especially in the tent! You can hear every peep outside. As far as that goes, I’m really looking forward to four real, mostly sound-proof walls… *then hears Carlos’ words and nods* Exactly! You can do two more days… right? *then points his head toward David* What does David think about this? Does he feel about it like you or does it not bother him that he has to share you with us?

Matteo: *nods in affirmation* Yes… and David is even more tense that someone will see him… and stuff… *shrugs one shoulder when he asks if he will be able to get through two more days* Yeah, I have to, right? *nods slightly, looks at David and then back again* I think he feels about it the same way I do… at least he has already mentioned escape attempts… *sighs slightly* But it’s somehow weird that you’re all so much more chill about it… am I just really clingy?

Jonas: *hears Carlos talking about David being tense: “Oh yes, shit, I keep forgetting… dysphoria and so on…”* *has to grin a little because apparently “dysphoria” is Carlos’ new favorite word but also thinks about the fact that it must suck a lot more for David than the others to not have any privacy* *keeps listening to Matteo and has to laugh quietly* Escape attempts? You two? *elbows Matteo and grins* Should I cover for you? *then thinks about Matteo’s question and at first listens to Carlos’ response to it: “Yes, totally…”* *hears Carlos laugh and add: “Nah, you’re not… well I mean not noticeably clingy… I mean everyone’s different in that respect anyways, right?”* *nods at Carlos’ words and adds* I also think that everyone’s different in that respect. But you don’t have to see it in a judgmental way. It’s not like one is better than the other. And the fact that David and you feel similarly about it is great! Like with Hanna and me. With Carlos and Kiki it basically sucks much more: He wants more alone-time and she doesn’t. *looks at Matteo* I just think it’s important that you two don’t completely pull away to be alone. And you don’t do that. Sure, you two also hang around each other even when we’re in a group, but you still participate and therefore it doesn’t bother anyone. There are also couples who completely cut themselves off and only do things with each other and who don’t care at all, anymore, what happens around them. But you’re not like that. So basically everything’s alright, isn’t it? *wonders why Matteo is so worried about this if he and David feel the same about it*

Matteo: *nods at Carlos’ words and also has to grin slightly* Exactly, dysphoria and so on… *laughs slightly when Jonas asks if he should cover for them* Can’t hurt… *then hears Jonas’ long speech about everyone being different and that he and David are the same and therefore it’s okay* *has to laugh a little because the speech is so typically Jonas* You’re right… so your advice is to just bear with it? But you might not see us for a couple of days after the holidays… *grins slightly*

Jonas: *grins when Matteo agrees that he could cover for them* Alright – just give me a sign. Hysterical coughing or something like that… *then nods when Matteo summarizes his speech and shrugs* Well you don’t really have any other choice than to just bear with it – unless you want to pack your bags and go home early. But that would somehow also suck… for the last two days… *laughs quietly* Believe me, as much as I like all of you, but once we’re back home I’m probably also glad to not have you guys around me every day…

David: *had been playing badminton with Amira until she got frustrated and said that she'd rather play with Sam, after all, to not feel like a total loser* *goes to the blanket where Matteo is sitting with Carlos and Jonas, sits down next to Matteo and quickly presses a kiss onto his cheek* *reaches for the water bottle and then grins at the others* Amira doesn't want to play anymore... do we want to play a round of football? *takes a sip*

Matteo: *laughs* I'll do that... *then nods* Yeah, no, leaving early would be completely over the top... *then grins when Jonas is of a similar opinion that they don't have to see each other for a while* *beams slightly when David comes toward them again* *smiles when he kisses him and immediately leans against David, his head on his shoulder* *hears Jonas and Carlos immediately agree and then also nods* Yes... okay... *they all get up and he calls over to Abdi* Abdi, wanna kick the ball around a little? We need a goalkeeper!

David: *smiles when Matteo’s head lands on his shoulder and immediately wraps an arm around him* *quickly presses a kiss to his forehead before he takes a sip* *then hears everyone agree to playing football and is happy* *immediately gets up again and when he hears Matteo’s call he looks over at Abdi, who then joins them* *hears Carlos: “I’m in a team with David!”* *laughs slightly and shrugs* Okay… *then bends down and picks up the ball and he and the others go to a patch of grass where they can play properly*

Matteo: *they unfortunately loose against Carlos and David and later they also play some volleyball* *they are really having a lot of fun and even Alex joins in and plays with them* *in the late afternoon they go back to the cabin and everyone immediately goes to the jetty* *David and Carlos are practicing for their swimming contest tomorrow while Jonas and Matteo jump around having fun instead* *then they sunbathe on the jetty and then soon get called to dinner*

David: *had a lot of fun on the meadow and also during swimming, even though he got more and more bothered by the fact that there are always people around them and that he and Matteo don’t even have 10 minutes to themselves* *keeps trying to remember that it’s really only two more days until they’re back home and that they’ll somehow manage* *shortly before dinner he disappears to the tent to take off his swim binder and doesn’t put the normal one back on either, because due to the amount of movement today he has been feeling the pressure from the binder for an hour* *instead he puts his hoodie on again and then he and Matteo go to the cabin where most of the others are already sitting at the set table* *today they’re having vegetable soup and they talk about their day together until Kiki says: “I thought that we could maybe do the game night outside today. We’ll spread blankets out and then set the games up on the blankets and then everyone can move around however they want to and play what they feel like. What do you guys think?”*

Matteo: *hears Kiki’s plan and as everyone agrees not very enthusiastically* *doesn’t really want to and grumbles slightly* Does everyone have to play? Sees Kiki looking at him shocked and hears her say: “Yes of course. That’s a group activity, Matteo. I brought the games just for that.”* *reaches for another slice of bread and dunks it into his soup* Hmmm… okay… *then hears Jonas: “Well, but if someone wants to go to bed early you won’t stop them, right?”*

David: *finds it almost amusing how much Kiki insists on her group activities but doesn’t really feel like having a game night, either, especially since he’s also really tired because they went to bed so late last night and got up so early this morning* *then hears Kiki answer Jonas: “Well but I’m sure no one wants to go to bed at 7:30!” and Alex: “And what if I’d rather sit down on the porch with a book at 7:30, are you going to rip the book out of my hand and pull me over to the games?” and Kiki again: “Of course you’re a spoilsport, Alexander!”* *clears his throat and says* Well to be honest, I’m really pretty done for and tired. I surely won’t go to bed at 7:30 but I won’t be able to stay up late today. *hears Amira say, as well: “Yes, Kiki, somehow we all had too little sleep last night…” and Kiki’s sulky reaction: “Does no one want to play?!” and Carlos calm her down: “Yes, we do, but it shouldn’t be forced!” and Abdi: “Well I do!”* *almost feels sorry for Kiki that her idea doesn’t really cause anyone to be excited, but can also understand the others really well*

Matteo: *also feels a little sorry for Kiki because she really did a lot and planned a lot* *sighs slightly* Yes, let’s just say we all start together and then we’ll just see? *hers agreeing murmurs* *reaches for David’s hand under the table* Like Carlos already said, no one should be forced, otherwise it also sucks… *sees Kiki nod: “Alright, okay… then you’ll clear the table and I’ll get everything ready in the meantime.”* *sees her get up and disappear into the cabin, probably to get the games*

David: *nods at Matteo’s suggestion and entwines his fingers with Matteo’s when he reaches for his hand under the table* *looks over at him and smiles relieved because it really does look like they’ll still get some alone-time today* *then hears that they are supposed to clear the table, squeezes Matteo’s hand again, and then helps the others clear everything off the table* *while Hanna and Jonas are doing the dishes today, the others already take beverages and snacks to the blankets where Kiki has set up the games* *then simply sits down on the blanket with the Phase 10 game on it and waits to see who will join him*

Matteo: *helps clear the table and also offers to help with washing the dishes but Hanna and Jonas told him they’d manage* *goes outside and sees where David is sitting* *walks past him and whispers* Phase 10 can take really long… *sits down on the Uno blanket because you can quit after each round*

David: *hears Matteo’s whispers and frowns* *didn’t think of that* *grins and gets up to sit down next to him to play Uno* *quietly asks* And what are you going to do if Kiki insists that everyone tries at least two games? *sees Abdi and Sam join them and grins again slightly* So Uno it is? *sees Abdi shrug and then also grin: “It all just depends on the order!”* *sees the others also spreading to to the blankets and sees Sam reach for the cards: “I’ll shuffle first!”*

Matteo: *grins when David gets up and joins him* *shrugs one shoulder* Then I’ll just quickly lose at some game? *then also sees Sam and Abdi join them and claps his hands* Well, then let’s start… *they are playing a few rounds until Sam gets up because she always loses: “I’ll go find something else, guys.”* *checks the time and sees that it’s 8:30* *thinks that it’s probably still too early*

David: *is playing a few rounds of Uno and looks between Abdi and Matteo after Sam left* Are we going to play another round or do we also wanna switch? *sees Matteo check the time and reaches for his hand to also see how late it is* *sees that it’s half past eight and thinks that it’s probably still too soon to leave* *smiles slightly and leans forward to kiss him briefly* *then hers Abdi: “What about Settlers? I’d really like to play that and I think Hanna and Jonas and Carlos are almost finished…”* *thinks that this will somehow take even longer than Phase 10 and notices that at the Phase 10 blanket Amira is the only one left since Mia and Kiki are on their way to the Uno game, and he thinks that with only 3 people playing, Phase 10 will probably be over faster than Settlers* *shakes his head about Settlers* I don’t think I can concentrate on that anymore… *looks at Matteo* A round of Phase 10, after all? Or do we stick with Uno?

Matteo: *smiles slightly when David kisses him and thinks that apparently they just had the same thought* *also shakes his head at Settlers* Yes, I think I’m also more in favor of Phase 10… *gets up and he and David go over to Amira* Na, coach, wanna play a round? *sees Amira grin: “Against you two? Always!"* *they join Amira and wait for her to hand out the cards* *then hears her ask: “And what about you? Are you already looking forward to being home again?"* *nods* Yeah, I am… sleeping in your own bed for a change…

David: *he and Matteo get up and go toward Amira* *plops down on the blanket with a groan and accepts the cards from her* *nods at her question and also at Matteo’s answer* *adds with a grin* …being able to close a door for a change… *sees Amira grin: “Being alone again…”* *laughs* Exactly… *then sorts his cards after Amira has handed them out and immediately draws another one because he’s sitting to Amira’s left and starts* *asks* And what about you? Happy to go home?

Matteo: *also laughs slightly and nods* Exactly… *also draws a card while he listens to Amira: “Yes, I do, I’m looking forward to being at home and having my own rhythm back and such…”* *grins slightly* Being alone for a change… *hears her laugh: “Yes, exactly…”* *they really have a nice conversation with Amira and he only finds it half as bad that they’re stuck here* *grins when Amira wins pretty hands down because he and David both didn’t play very enthusiastically* Congratulations, coach… it has been an honor to be able to lose against you… but I think we’ll try to disappear now…

David: *isn’t really motivated to play after Amira is quickly 2 phases ahead of Matteo and him and they ultimately agree that Matteo and he won’t play to determine second and third place after Amira won* *grins when Matteo says that they’ll disappear now and checks the time* *nods* Yep – we’ve fulfilled our duty and participated in the game night… *hears Amira laugh: “Duty!? I see… but you do that… Kiki is busy playing Settlers right now – maybe she won’t even notice… and if she does, I’ll tell her you felt sick or something like that…”* *laughs quietly* If you’ll sell that to her so that she actually believes you then we owe you one… *then grins at Matteo* Do you think it’s less suspicious if we leave separately? And should we run or walk slowly? Or tiptoe? Crawl? Or run from one tree to the next?

Matteo: *grins when Amira laughs* Well, duty is maybe putting it toooo harshly but you know… *then nods at David’s words* Yes, she’ll never believe you… but it’s okay, she doesn’t have to… *laughs out loud at David’s suggestions* I’d suggest YOU run from one tree to the next and I’ll slowly walk after you and cover your back… *hears Amira laugh: “You’ll manage…”* *gets up* Thanks… and good night… *holds his hand out to David so that they can disappear*

David: *grins at Matteo’s suggestion but realizes that of course he isn’t serious about it* *sighs theatrically* Alright, okay, maybe we’ll just disappear normally and as inconspicuously as possible… *nods at Amira* *also gets up and nods at Amira* Sleep well… sometime later… *hears Amira say: “I won’t stay up for too much longer, either. I’m really tired…”* *reaches for Matteo’s hand with a smile and then they go toward the tent – surprisingly without being stopped by anyone* *takes a deep breath when they can see the tent and wraps his arm around Matteo* *jumps up once from happiness* We made it!

Matteo: *holds David’s hand and moves away from the cabin and toward the tent as quickly as possible* *is really surprised that they make it without being stopped* *laughs when David jumps up and down* You loon… *pulls him closer and kisses him* *smiles slightly* Let’s get ready for bed real quick, I want to cuddle… *they really get ready quickly and are lying in the tent holding each other a little while later* *smiles contentedly* Finally…

David: *smiles into the kiss and then nods at his words about quickly getting ready and about cuddling* *lets Matteo hand him the toothbrush and then quickly brushes his teeth* *goes into the bushes again to pee and then crawls into the tent with Matteo and immediately cuddles close to him* *laughs quietly when Matteo says “finally”* Oh man, I feel like we haven’t seen each other in days even though we’ve actually been together the entire day… *pushes a leg between Matteo’s and wraps his arms around him a little tighter so that he can be closer to him* *then thinks that it’s really been a while since they’ve just lain in the tent together without immediately falling asleep form tiredness*

Matteo: *nods* Yes, I agree… that’s really weird somehow… as if I would miss you even though you’re here… *wraps his arms around him tighter* But once we’re home, we have time… only you and I… at least for 3 hours, maybe even 4 if we leave early enough… *is silent for a moment and then adds* I’ve already told Jonas that we’ll make ourselves scarce for a few days once we’re back… *laughs slightly* He said that he also doesn’t really need to see us again right afterwards, anyways… two weeks are really long, right?

David: *nods at Matteo’s words and laughs quietly* Exactly… *sighs when Matteo mentions home* Yes, Hans’ message earlier really saved the day. The prospect of having the flatshare to ourselves for 3 to 4 hours. At my place, we probably would have been commandeered by Laura straight away… *absentmindedly runs a hand up and down Matteo’s back* *is really looking forward to seeing his sister again and also Hans and Linn, but right now is really mostly looking forward to a few hours of alone-time with Matteo* *listens to him when he says that he talked to Jonas and nods* Yes… I think slowly but surely everyone’s looking a little forward to being back home and to some quiet… *laughs quietly* Apart from Kiki maybe…

Matteo: *nods immediately* Yes, Laura will probably also want to celebrate and talk and stuff… *is also really looking forward to seeing everyone again but is really mostly looking forward to spending time just the two of them and being together without any plans and schedules* *then nods again and absentmindedly runs his hand up and down David’s arm* Yes, I think so, too… *then also laughs* Yes, Kiki could go on like this for another two weeks… we’ll probably have a message on Monday asking when we’ll all see each other again… but that’s Kiki for you, she can do stuff like this…

David: *groans at Matteo’s suspicion about Kiki* Maybe we should just turn off our phones for two days once we’re back in Berlin and everyone else can kiss our asses… *is silent for a moment and then says* What does Carlos think about this? Doesn’t he need alone-time with her, either? Somehow we’re really lucky that we feel similarly about this… just imagine if one of us was like Kiki and the other like himself – that would totally suck… *feels goosebumps on his arm where Matteo touches him and flinches back a little* *grins and quietly murmurs* That tickles…

Matteo: *laughs slightly* I’d really do that, but being completely unreachable also sucks… what if Mama needs something or the guy from Lambda calls again? *hears his question and shrugs one shoulder* I think Carlos is actually more like us… but he loves Kiki the way she is and thinks that it’s also okay… *is a little surprised when he says that it tickles* Huh? *then realizes what he’s talking about and stills his hand* Sorry…

David: *nods at Matteo’s words and sighs quietly* Also true… *then listens to his words about Carlos and Kiki and nods again* *is still glad that it’s different with them and that they feel similar about it* *grins when Matteo looks at him so surprised and pokes his side when he apologizes* Don’t worry about it… I can do this as well… *laughs quietly when he flinches and wraps his arms around him a little tighter again so that he can’t move away*

Matteo: *squeaks a little and moves his body away from him when he pokes him* Hey! Stop it! *wraps his arms around him again and holds him tight* *buries his face in his neck and then blows against it before he kisses him, first his neck and then his jaw* *murmurs* Kissing is better than tickling…

David: *laughs again quietly when he complains and laughs even more when he blows against his neck* *is still grinning when he starts kissing him but then slowly gets more serious when he says that kissing is better than tickling* *turns his head so that he can meet Matteo’s mouth and murmurs a little breathless from all the laughing* You’re right… *then kisses him tenderly and runs his hand through Matteo’s hair*

Matteo: *grins when he agrees with him* That can happen… *rolls halfway on top of him when he kisses him and lightly runs his hand over his side* *deepens the kiss and enjoys the quiet and that they have time* *entwines their legs and then hears giggling* *is a little surprised and only after he hears a “shhh” does he realize that it’s not David* *pulls away from the kiss and asks quietly* Did you hear that?

David: *pulls Matteo closer when he rolls on top of him and sighs quietly at his touches* *deepens the kiss at the same time he does and runs one hand tenderly across his back and at the end slips it underneath his shirt* *also thinks that he hears something and stops for a moment, but when Matteo continues kissing him he lets himself get distracted by that* *listens again when eventually Matteo also pulls away from the kiss* *hears quiet giggling and then a loud splash followed by “Man, Carlos!”* *groans quietly and buries his neck in Matteo’s shoulder* *then laughs quietly and desperately* Oh man… I finally want you all to myself… *searches for his lips again and just hopes that Carlos and Kiki will really only go for a quick swim and that they’ll be gone again in a moment*

Matteo: *groans in annoyance when he hears giggling and splashing* Seriously? *wraps his arm around David and kisses his head* *then smiles when he kisses him again* *then hears more giggling and splashing and hears Kiki call loudly: “I’ll get you!” followed by Carlos: “Shhh”, then hears some splashing and just can’t concentrate on David like that* *pulls away from the kiss and sighs again loudly* Two more days, two more days, two more days…

David: *while he kisses Matteo he can hear Carlos and Kiki in the water and realizes that he can’t really relax because of it* *runs a hand through Matteo’s hair when he pulls away from the kiss and when he sees Matteo’s annoyed expression* *smiles slightly when he hears his mantra and briefly kisses him again* Actually, it’s only 1,5 more days… we can do that. *then laughs quietly* Let’s get up early on Sunday, prepare breakfast and then push everyone to pack up quickly… the sooner we leave, the sooner we have the flatshare to ourselves…

Matteo: *laughs slightly at his answer* When did you get so optimistic? *grins at his suggestion and nods* Good idea… then it’s best if tomorrow evening we already pack up all the things we don’t need anymore… *kisses him again briefly and then cuddles against him*

David: *shrugs and grins* Since the prospect of having you to myself for a change is so palpable and close… *then laughs quietly at his suggestion* Good idea! And it’s best if we already pack up the tent before we go make breakfast… then we can offer to do the dishes or to help Sam and Amira with their tent so that it’ll go faster… oh man… that’s not suspicious at all… *returns Matteo’s kiss and smiles when he cuddles close* *wraps his arms around him and briefly kisses his temple* *then buries his face in Matteo’s hair, takes a deep breath and relaxes* *then they are silent for a moment and he enjoys the closeness and the familiarity and eventually blocks out the quiet sounds coming from Kiki and Carlos* *gets drowsy and realizes once again how little sleep he got last night* *thinks that it might not be so bad if they go to sleep a little earlier today so that they’ll be fit tomorrow and the day after* *eventually kisses Matteo’s temple again and murmurs quietly* I love you…

Matteo: *grins at his answer and awwws a little* *then laughs quietly when he hears his plan* Sounds good… and it doesn’t matter if it’s suspicious or not… I bet that at least Mia and Alex and Jonas and Hanna feel similar… *then relaxes more and more when they are quiet* *gets kissed and hums blissfully* *immediately feels the butterflies again when he hears David’s words and moves a little so that he can kiss him properly* Love you too… *then cuddles closer again* Let’s sleep now?

David: *meets Matteo’s kiss and smiles when he returns his words* *runs a hand through his hair again and nods when he asks if they’ll sleep now* *hums in agreement and kisses the back of his neck after he has rolled onto his side* *wraps his arms around him again and slips his hand under his shirt* *then murmurs quietly* Sleep tight, Florenzi…

Matteo: *firmly presses himself against David and pulls the sleeping bag a little higher* *grins slightly when he feels David’s hand under his shirt* Dream of us, Schreibner… and of an empty flatshare…

(next play)

#druck #druck og #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi #davenzi plays

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