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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

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The Right Partner (2/3)

Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader

Take My Whole Life, Too, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Your honeymoon with Steve Rogers begins.

Warnings for vague smut (don't worry, I make up for it in pt2), cuteass!Steeb being extra, unrealistic adorable sh*t, and my complete lack of shame about it. MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one isn't for you! WC 3.1k

It’s bright and loud.

Well, there is light—a pale blue that gnaws at your heavy eyelids—and the song of birds.

The birds are, frankly, irrationally aggressive even for late morning.

You groan and turn over toward the inside of the tent, hoping for an hour more of darkness, maybe two.

Dehydrated. That’s what this heavy, sluggish feeling is. You should have had twice the water you managed to drink yesterday. No one would fault you for having other priorities on your wedding day though.

Your fingers branch out to find the bed empty.

From your exposed shoulder beyond the comforter, you gauge it is quite chilly here wherever you are. You didn’t even ask Steve if he found out what state (or country) you two landed in. Who cares? You burrow deeper, peeking over the thick quilted seam to see—

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s back is to you when you hear a metallic clatter in the utility sink. He whips around in just his boxers, raising a hand to cover his mouth and garble out “nothing.”

You’re prone and below eye level to the countertop, so you sit up to look while Steve poorly hides his sin by leaning over the surface.

He swallows heavily.

“You want some tea,” he rushes to ask in a failingly casual tone. “I’ve got water heating.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you jump up to stand on the mattress, knocking your head against the springy ceiling, and step down. “Are you eating our wedding cake without me?”

“You wouldn’t even give me some yesterday,” he whines, placing himself protectively between your approach and the confection. His guilty brows raise with sincerity.

“Oh, please! You got cake, and then you—” you poke his bare chest, glancing at the now quarter-demolished top tier “—you complained it wasn’t your flavor!”

“But…” Steve simply points. No other words come to mind based on his still-stunned expression.

“Fine,” you chuckle, relaxing to stretch your large sweater over your chilled hands and thighs, “I won’t tell anyone you’re nothing but a little sweets-thief. Hot tea sounds lovely though.”

“Allow me,” he smiles and leans in for a kiss, tasting of sugar and lemon like the night you got engaged, the night you first…oof. After just one reminder, the sweater is suddenly plenty warm.

“Thank you.”

The flood of mental images rushes from your brain, down your body, to your full bladder.

Next stop: the bathroom.

While he sorts out your morning boost, you chug a bottle of water to help with the rough, sluggish feeling weighing on you. No soreness though, which is good.

Steve returns triumphant with a camping mug and steeping, steaming wakeup juice, and you give him your own soft peck on his cheek.

No doubt he continues his dessert for breakfast the instant you step out to use the facilities aboard the jet. Good, he deserves all the cake, as much as he wants, whenever he wants.

The tiny mirror isn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you do have to rummage around for a few straggling hairpins. A splash of cool water on your face just before you emerge is more refreshing than expected, too. The day is fresh, you are fresh, and your marriage is fresh.

You cradle the mug in your palms, making to leave, when your gown catches your eye hanging at the locker closest to the ramp, right beside Steve’s uniform.

Yesterday feels like the most wonderful, blinding blur.

All the military men (and women) wore their first uniforms, and you have to admit it created a sharp-looking bunch. Geeta’s uniform was only from nine years ago, Wilson’s just over fifteen, Rhodes’s nearly thirty, and of course, Steve and Bucky’s come in at eighty years old. Not shockingly, their uniforms were replicas, but the boys were very picky about the details.

Gracie, Natasha, Ro, Pepper, Tony and Bruce all kept their fancy dress within the same neutral palette. Morgan and Felicity were flower (leaf) girls. Standing at the alter as a bride, a groom, and their ‘besties,’ you amassed a punk, a jerk, a nerd, and a Booboo.

Your subdued red, white, and blue gown made the boldest statement of the day.

You were so worried yesterday morning. You thought the statement would read as if you were devoting yourself to an ideal, harping that you are in some ways ‘Misses America,’ but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to walk down that aisle and sign over who you are, to belong to someone else, even someone as magnificent as Steve Rogers.

Then you saw his face.

That man belongs to you as much as you belong to him. The look of pure, undiluted, delighted adoration nearly knocked you over. You’re lucky you made it through your vows. You melted inside to help your poor, fumbling Sketch with his own speech. Bucky winked once you finally got his buddy to the important bit.

Then that kiss.

Gosh, all this time you thought maybe the desperate heat of your first kiss in an evacuated AvIn hallway couldn’t be recreated—much less topped—but you were wrong. The boning in your bodice is the real hero, that’s for sure. Girl’s gotta have good support when it counts.

Speaking of being weak for a man, you think, sipping at hot tea, better get back in there. That, plus your legs are freezing.

A polaroid snaps the instant you cross the zip-up threshold, along with praises of your beauty. You blink rapidly but smile.

“What’s that?”

“Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.”

He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you.

“Thought they’d be nice for the trip.”

You weigh it in your hands, eye the Polaroid, then switch with Steve.

“That one’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag.

As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around.

Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your Polaroid and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans.

He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead.

He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle.

“Yes, ‘m out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke.

“It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Yeah, you think, but you’ll need fewer clothes again. Instead, your stomach gurgles in response.

“Why? Do I finally get some cake?”

“Just a taste.” He kisses your lips, which you lick immediately after. “But I was thinking more like eggs. The fire’s ready.”

Your stomach growls louder. “Shhh, peanut gallery.”

Steve puts a hand over your stomach, chuckling. “At least she’s honest.”

The light pressure of his wide palm lingers even when he steps out to the camp ground. It triggers a potent flash of life with him.

You’ve spoken about kids and it will happen (or at least you’ll try) in due course, but he’s come home from missions with doubts about bringing children up in this world. What matters to both of you is having each other, and you know he’d be enough good and love for your lifetime. Even though you can always revisit the issue, that deep flutter ravages your gut while you watch him cook breakfast.

With another hunger pang, you remember how your stomach voicing her opinion is one of the reasons you’re together. One, solitary growl started the first real night of hanging out with Steve. Without it, he wouldn’t have shared a leftover meal (and cake—hint, hint, buddy), he wouldn’t have let you in his apartment, he wouldn’t have driven you and your car home the next morning, and he wouldn’t have given you some of his own clothes to wear.

You pull the sleeves of his sweater over your chilling hands and bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

You wonder which one of those incidental, accidental moments was the tipping point, whether removing just one experience of you would have stopped Steve from seeing you, stopped him from loving you.

After a while, you pick up the polaroid. You can see his ease through the lens. Steve is in his element, chatting away while preparing a meal, planning what you two can do together next, complimenting how you look in his sweatpants and meaning it so profusely that his eyes light up whenever he looks your way.

You thought you caught it on camera, all of him, all of his happiness, but the shot isn’t close enough to do it justice. Your heart will just have to remember.

Yes, Steve Rogers on his own is more than enough. He is the gift. He’s your treasure.

You can’t decide what you want to do next, but a strong shiver running through you gives a hint: get warm.

Eggs are a good start.

When the food is done, Steve refills your tea and makes his own.

You snuggle up into the covers of the bed again, leaning your head into the dip of Steve’s sternum, using your furnace husband to full effect. The birds aren’t so annoying now. The air is so crisp and refreshing, laced with the smell of Steve’s skin. The rise and fall of his chest is so soothing as you sip and ponder the future.

Steve fiddles with the dials on the vintage camera above you. That’s the last thing you remember before waking up again, this time wrapped in his warm, toasty arms.

For once, he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s stretched, out-cold and perfectly content, unmoving as you wiggle out of the covers.

He never rests in the middle of the day, so you have to capture his sleepy form, eyes still tucked beneath the comforter, keeping the light out for just a little longer. He’s so beautiful.

Your husband is so beautiful.

Steve desperately wants to take the wedding presents for a spin out in the woods, so the afternoon is entirely consumed by a hike.

The Polaroid makes too much noise for wildlife and can’t focus on the tinier details among the branches and leaves, so you settle for jotting down some fanciful descriptions that come to mind and watch him sneak closer to birds, bugs, and color-changing foliage.

He gets so distracted with excitement that you two walk much farther than intended. Steve insists on carrying you the last few miles of your return, and you spend the entire piggyback ride with your chin tucked over his shoulder, your cheek against his neck, quietly discussing what you’d like to change in your lives now that you’re officially married.

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

Nothing needs to change because you two are the exact same people as forty-eight hours ago. Perhaps the rings on your fingers mean more for your life, but they just transmuted the love already in existence to matter.

Steve’s bright blue eyes go dreamy with philosophizing.

Your husband is beautiful, smelling of fresh air and optimism.

Steve refuses to miss another sunset, so you two lay in the hammock before lighting your evening fire.

You snuggle and chat, teasing each other, telling stories. You watch the Milky Way bloom to life above you.

Something Steve never figured out was how the Team knew about his plan to propose. He’s been going over it and over it, but he can’t see where he gave himself away. Steve says, when he asked Bucky yesterday in the men’s ready room, Bucky smirked.

Apparently, Steve, only once while you two dated, told his friend “there’s an order to these things,” and that was enough. Buck knew Steve’s intentions immediately, watching for the signs, the clues. Everyone understands that for a long time now Steve has resented his birthday is a holiday—not in a disrespectful way, but it annoys him that the day is already a big, loud affair,—and the whole group guessed (correctly) Steve would rather replace the symbolism with his own meaning.

“And hey,” Steve rumbles, faking Tony’s nonchalance as he quotes the billionaire playboy, “if you chickened out, fireworks are fireworks.”

His added shrug for effect shifts you and rocks the dangling net.

“Almost did, didn’t you?” you chuckle. “Chicken out?”

Your husband’s whole body tweaks harshly.

“You know I was scared shitless, Keeps! Almost fainted.”

“Or at least fell off your one knee…”

His hands fly up to scrub at his stubbled face, pinning you. “Oh! It was so bad,” he groans.

You sit up carefully in the wobbly fabric of the hammock, barely suppressing more laughter, and pound a flat palm at his chest. “It’s ok, soldier. You got the job done. We got there in the end.”

Steve’s hand covers yours, his peaceful smile glowing in the soft starlight.

He reaches to cradle your cheek, sweeping a delicately callused thumb over your skin.

“I almost can’t believe it,” Steve says quietly.

“Believe what?”

He could mean the beauty of the sky, or that Tony knocked it out of the park with your escape of a honeymoon, or that he didn’t croak instead of getting through all those mental and physical hurtles to be with you. You’re just not sure. Personally, you’ve ‘almost not believed it’ since the Captain America started talking to you, so it’s hard to judge.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His voice grows even softer. “Happy. That’s all.”

Your heart breaks and mends in an instant.

“You can’t believe you’re happy?”

He goes shy, ducking then raising his gaze even higher towards the treetops. He clears his throat before admitting, “I lead…an unusual life. Not many would want this.”

“I dunno. Seems pretty nice to me,” you giggle.

“Yes, but—“ he pulls you into his chest and squeezes “—I get no guarantees. Not like others. We couldn’t even set a date. We could have been waiting years to get married.”

It’s your turn to shrug.

“You got something else to do?”

“No,” he sighs, “just more of this.” He nudges your body closer and closer to his, until all your arms and legs are tangled together. “As much as possible. I only meant…I love you.

“I love you, and I don’t think I had any faith left that I would find you.”

You. Not someone like you. Not someone for him.

You.

Even without a fire, even without sunlight, even without shelter surrounding you, Steve provides everything you could ever need: heat, comfort, safety. He provides, and it’s only right that he should have the favor returned.

Happiness. That’s what this is. Happiness that wasn’t guaranteed. Happiness that wasn’t expected. Happiness that was hard-earned.

Your muscles shiver and your skin tingles, all with need of him. “Sweetheart,” you whisper, clawing at his sweater.

He knows. He sees. He feels it, too.

When Steve lunges to kiss you though, the hammock swings with your combined weight and tries to topple you.

You giggle and squeal, flipping out and onto the ground with zero grace, and he follows.

Steve crawls over you, starlight and the glow from the tent painting his face in primary colors.

“Here, Mrs. Rogers?” He fakes shock. “In the dirt?”

“You fucked me on that picnic table just last night,” you joke, a dark, taunting edge to your voice which he matches.

Steve leans in again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He holds your gaze, his focus flickering to your lips while the crickets’ song roars around you.

It sounds silly after all you’ve done to get Steve out of his shell, but what you crave most in this moment is the familiar, traditional love-making that he offers best. His tenderness leads you on a merry dance not unlike long wilderness walks. He’s consumed by discovery and attention to how you feel in that very second. To him, you change as frequently as the landscape. He yearns to explore what’s the same, what’s new.

Steve never phones-in sex. He never just goes through the motions. Somehow, he makes an art of reevaluating your body, your pleasure, each and every time. He’s the proof vanilla is an infinite flavor.

But…

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the chase.

Steve is leaning in to kiss you when your knee raises to his chest, halting his progress. You bite your lip and scramble to the ‘door’ of the tent. Obviously, he lets you win because he could easily have snatched you into his grasp.

Steve’s laugh stays close, but he follows all the way to the bed.

There’s something to be said about a good ol’ fashioned undressing, garment by garment, that dance of who leads and how much they touch the other as each piece of clothing falls away. Steve’s become a very good dancer.

Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

He doesn’t combine the acts of maneuvering you and dragging open mouth kisses along your skin. He moves you, and then he lingers.

Time spent mapping you is time well spent to Steve Rogers.

You’re drunk on him. High on him. It’s an out-of-body experience that has you watching his broad back curve sharply while he thrusts and traces your collarbone with his tongue, noticing your toes seize up from force of your first orgasm, and admiring how fine his ringed finger looks laced in with yours and pinned over your head.

No one leaves the tent. The evening fire never gets started.

After a long and sweaty fuck in the bed, you’re filthy, gathering food for Steve who’s hungry, following you around with wipes. It’s comical how thoroughly you try to take care of each other.

No. Sit still. No. Let me just grab this. No. Fine. Together?

You two finish the top tier of cake after cleaning off…because Steve Rogers is the most stubborn, beautiful, and optimistic husband.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Fools Rush In Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x wife!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers x you #sketch and keeps

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bluejutdae · 2 months

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Prince Felix thoughts

🫶 this is for you

• Prince Lee Felix, son of King Minho, raised at court.

• he’s always polite and kind to whoever works at the castle and be’s knows n as the “fairy Prince” or the “kind Prince” because of his beauty and behavior

• you two meet the day of your arranged marriage. Sometimes politics is too strong to be challenged, so you meet on the altar, both nervous but both set on fulfilling your commitment.

• the wedding ceremony goes smoothly and you’re surprised at how gorgeous pretty he is in real life. Photos haven’t been photoshopped and portraits didn’t need to pass under the strict editing of the royals, he really looks like a Fairy Prince, the name deserved. You only hope that’s the only characteristic akin to fairies, seen their ability to manipulate words to avoid saying the truth.

• what you fear the most is the wedding night, you’re not a virgin, but you heard nightmarish stories about Kings and Princes forcing themselves on their spouses. Felix proves (again and again) to be a good man. He walks you to your rooms and with a gracious bow he wishes you good night and leaves you alone to get ready for bed. It’s the same the night after, and the one after that, and so on.

• you two spend your days together, he helps you getting aquatinted to the castle, the court and their customs. And in the meantime he tries to get to know you. He has infinite questions about you: your favorite colors, food you like, where would you like to travel to, your hobbies and passions, which ice cream flavor you prefer, your shoe size and so on…

• you’re married for a month but you never kissed, except for your chaste wedding kiss. He’s not shy with his affection, though. He often reaches to fix your hair, to remove lint from your shoulder or he simply squeezes your hand quickly when you say something that makes him laugh. God, his laugh is so cute and real. It’s been a month but you already have feeling for your husband.

• physical affection is not the only thing he offers. He gives you gift after gift. Sometimes it’s something as simple as a flower picked during a walk in the gardens, a sweet he knows you like from a bakery in town; others, it’s fancy things: he gifted you ruby earrings, a pearl necklace, a collection of rare books, a ball gown with real diamonds on the corset.

• you often try to reciprocate his gifts and attentions, but it almost seems like he prefers giving more than receiving. He’s always happy to receive something from you. And even if you don’t know, he safeguards everything you ever gave him like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Included the origami flower you made once.

• one of the things that make you both happy is your complicity. You become friends, talking about everything and laughing together. Your nightly runs in the kitchen get habitual, mostly after a day you couldn’t spend together. You talk and he bakes, or he talks and you cook. It’s your way to decompress and being able to do it together is the most importantly thing.

• Minho starts to call for numerous balls. So many balls. You have now more ball gowns than you ever though was possible. Felix says it’s weird how often there is a ball at Court, maybe it’s Minho’s way to court someone? Did he meet someone he’s interested in? But after every ball, Minho roll his eyes when he gets info on you still sleeping in different rooms. Does he have to step up his game?

• Luckily he doesn’t have to. The next ball has many dignitaries from other countries as guests and one of them, a tall and handsome guy, asks for a dance. You accept because it’s part of your role, but when he holds a bit too tight and shuffles his hands a little too close to where he shouldn’t, you look around, trying to find your husband’s eyes in a silent ask for help. You don’t have to search for long because he’s already behind you, politely but firmly asking to dance with you. You relax in his arms, but he’s still tense. “Felix, I’m fine. He was just too-“

• “I’m not fine”. He never speaks in this tone, furious and clenching his jaw. “No one gets to touch my wife like that.” His gaze is fixed on you, and after month you finally realized you’re not the only one having feelings. Not caring of rules and appearances you grab him by his hand and guide him to a less crowded room to kiss him. The kiss is messy and hungry, but you both need to communicate too many things with it. Surprisingly, Minho doesn’t want so many balls anymore…

• your first night together ends with you both submerged in a warm bubble bath (thank god for rich royals who can afford spacious bathtubs), cuddling and tracing shapes on each other’s body. His neck and chest are littered with marks, the rest of them are covered by the water, but you know they’re there.

• he insists on having a serious conversation about what this means, how to navigate being in love with you wife once you’re already married. You decide on at least a weekly date outside of the castle, just the two of you. You talk all night and when you fall asleep, just when the sun is rising, it’s one in the other’s embrace…

#bluejutdae #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #felix x female reader #felix x you #prince felix

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starsandhughes · 1 year

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Penalty Box Series— Imagines Edition: Little Bird

totaalllyyy not projecting a little bit here! (this is a lie. i cried for two hours straight over this song.)

here’s a little wedding planning fic! happy ending! i promise!

warnings: crying, mentions of a rough childhood, particularly absent fathers

word count: ~1.8k

22-23 Season/Summer Series Masterlist

—————

The last thing you wanted while starting to plan your wedding was to have a mental breakdown in front of everyone.

And by everyone, you mean everyone. Trevor, Jack, Quinn, Luke, Cole, Alex, and your essentially adoptive parents Ellen and Jim.

You had your music on shuffle as you started looking at color schemes and flower arrangements. It was great at first— the speaker played Taylor, early 2000s pop music, Morgan Wallen and other country songs, 5SOS, and even some One Direction.

And then Little Bird by The Jonas Brothers came on.

You barely noticed it at first, treating it more like background music. Until the chorus. And the second verse. And the rest of the song.

'Cause I know if I'm doin' my job correct

Nights like these will happen less

So please just keep me in your heart

When you fly into somebody else's arms, little bird

Yeah, yeah

Walked down the aisle, breakin' my heart

Lay down my pride, I know I gotta let you go

'Cause he's gonna love you when I gotta leave you

Gotta believe it when the Lord takes me home

You got a little emotional at the chorus and decided to push past it. It was just a song. But when Joe started singing about a father walking his daughter down the aisle, you lost it.

Trevor was quick to jump out of his seat and wrap his arms around you. He was standing while you were still sitting, cradling your head into his chest and rubbing your back.

“Turn it off,” Trevor said softly, but urgently, to Jack.

Jack ushered to the speaker and unplugged it, ceasing the music in the middle of the next chorus. Trevor and Quinn shared a panicked look. Everyone was dead silent and still, no one knew what to do. The lyrics that got to you were wedding and father related. The whole song is about a father’s love for his daughter, something that your biological father didn’t have for you.

“I won’t be offended if you need Quinn, sweet girl,” Trevor whispered to you. “Just nod your head if it’s him you need.”

“B-both,” you choked out.

That took your fiancé off guard. He wasn’t sure if there was ever a moment where you needed both of the two most important people to you during a breakdown.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Quinn said.

Trevor slowly released his hold and held out both of his hands for you to take. He pulled you up and threw one arm around your shoulder and used his other to place a comforting hand on your upper arm.

You bit back your sobs as you left the kitchen to go upstairs into your and Trevor’s room in the lake house. The second the door closed behind you, you threw yourself into Quinn’s arms, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Quinn wrapped you up tight, and Trevor sat down close to you and Quinn and returned to rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“It’s alright, Sissy,” Quinn cooed. “We got you. You’re safe. Let it all out.”

You violently sobbed into your best friend’s chest. Your entire body was shaking; there was no way that the rest of your loved ones downstairs couldn’t hear you.

“Why didn’t he want me?!” you shouted through your cries. Then, softer, “Why didn’t he love me?”

“He didn’t deserve you,” Quinn answered low.

“He still doesn’t deserve you,” Trevor elaborated on Quinn’s words.

You continued to bawl. You sobbed so hard that your head was starting to pound. You sobbed so loud that your throat was burning. The boys stayed mostly quiet, only occasionally offering assuring whispers of “it’s alright,” and “let it out” variations.

Your sobs, over half an hour later, eventually died down into a silent cry with only sniffles as a tell.

“He doesn’t deserve me,” you said weakly.

“That’s right, Quinn agreed. “You decide who deserves you. And I think five year old you made the decision that your biological parents don’t the first time they forgot to pick you up from our house.”

“I always liked it better there.”

Quinn kisses the top of your head, “We liked it better when you were there. We worried when you weren’t.”

At some point during your breakdown, you had laid down in Quinn’s lap. You slowly sat up and turned slightly to dive into Trevor’s chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he pulled your legs over so that you were sitting between his legs, turning you towards Quinn so that you could see him and he could still place his hand on you. Trevor put his arms around you and started to stroke your hair while his cheek rested on top of your head.

“You deserve me,” Trevor whispered. “You deserve everything and I plan to give it to you.”

“You already have,” you told him, hugging him tighter.

“Then I’ll give you everything and more. And I’ll tell you every day that you deserve me. And Quinn. And Jack. And Luke, Cole, Alex, Jamie, Ellen, Jim, all our teammates, and every single hockey player that you’ve deemed your son.”

Trevor’s words brought more cries from you, but in a good way this time. Quinn lifted your legs and scooted closer to Trevor so that he could lay your legs across his lap. You kept one arm tightly around Trevor, but you held your other hand out for Quinn to hold.

Quinn grabbed it and squeezed it gently, “I’ve never met anyone more loved than you.”

“You’d probably explode with any more love,” Trevor quipped. He smiled when he got a small chuckle out of you. He always knew when it was okay to lightly joke to help get you feeling better. You love that about him.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah, Sissy?”

“I know I originally asked you to walk me down the aisle, but would you be offended if I asked Jim to?”

Quinn broke out into a smile at your question.

“Not at all. I think it’s a great idea,” he answered.

“How about you officiate us?” Trevor suggested. “And I’ll finally cave and let Y/N have Cole as her Man of Honor instead.”

“I’d be honored,” Quinn said.

You didn’t say it out loud yet, but something about Trevor asking Quinn’s permission to ask you out on a date and then asking him to marry you two brought you immense joy. It felt like your story together was coming full circle. It was perfect.

You held on to Trevor’s hand as the three of you made your way back downstairs. Everyone’s eyes were immediately directed towards you, all of them filled with either worry or sympathy.

Jack got up off the couch and walked over to you, “Want a hug? Or do you want Trevor?”

You gave your brother a soft smile and wrapped your arm that wasn’t attached to Trevor around his waist. Jack’s arms slid around your shoulders as he held you in a firm hug.

“How do you want to ask this?” Trevor asked you.

“Ask what?” Cole asked. “Are you eloping? Are you asking for permission to elope?”

“No, dumbass,” you laughed lightly. “We do have something to ask of you, though. You and um… Dad.”

The room stilled. It had been addressed multiple times that Quinn was walking you down the aisle.

Cole and Jim moved so that they were sitting next to each other on the couch; you and Trevor took a seat on the ottoman.

You turned your attention to Jim, “I’ve already talked to Quinn, and he’s not offended or anything. But Trevor and I— well, I guess mainly me, decided to ask if you’d like to walk me down the aisle instead? You’ve been a dad to me for almost all my life. Not just a father, but a dad, too. And I’d—“

You started to get choked up. Everyone now knew what you were going to ask, but it was clear that you wanted to get it out. Trevor rubbed your back for some encouragement and to help calm you.

“I’d like you to walk me down the aisle,” you said.

Ellen was crying, and Jim had the happiest face on him that you’ve ever seen.

He took your hands in his as his eyes started to water a bit as well, “I’d like nothing more.”

You got up and hugged him, really hugged him. Quinn means so much to you, but you weren’t really sure why you didn’t go with the most obvious and important father figure in your life in the beginning of planning. Hell, you’ve been calling him “dad” since you were in middle school and really started to understand things about life.

You wiped some tears as you pulled away and forced out a fake laugh to shake off some of the intense emotions you were still feeling. You sat back down and faced Cole this time to ask him your next question.

“I know Trevor and I originally asked you to marry us, but since Quinn isn’t walking me anymore, Trevor had the idea of him marrying us instead. He asked Quinn’s permission to date me in the first place, which obviously later turned into us being boyfriend and girlfriend, so I thought it was a perfect idea that he’d be the one making us husband and wife.

“I was originally going to ask Taryn, but I haven’t yet so she doesn’t even have to know. So, Cole?”

“Yes?” he smiled. He knew what was coming.

“Would you be my Man of Honor?”

Cole dived towards you and tackled you into a hug, “I would be HONORED to be your Man of Honor, best friend number two!”

You let out a real laugh as Cole snuggled himself against you even harder to where his face was practically making a permanent indent in the ottoman cushion.

“Alright! Tell me how you really feel,” you teased.

“Nothing else has changed, right?” Jack asked. “I’m still one of Trevor’s best men?”

“Yeah, bud,” Trevor assured him. “I’ve got my groom party set in stone.”

You were really happy with your decision. Yeah, sometimes your past comes back to you with a vengeance, but you just have to take a step back and remember all the good that the bad brought.

Your fucked up family brought you a real family.

A family that every one of your school classmates thought you were apart of anyways.

A family that showed you what a family should be.

A family that showed you what love was.

A family that still shows you what love is.

A family that brought you the love of your life.

A family that brought you the best people in your life.

A family that brought you back to life.

It wasn’t that day, but eventually you were able to listen to Little Bird with a smile. You sing along to it with so much heart and emotion every time; all because of Jim Hughes.

All because of your real dad.

You’ve been a Hughes for seventeen years. And soon, you’ll be Mrs. Zegras-Hughes to finally, legally, solidify that.

You can’t wait.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

#penalty box series #penalty box series: imagines edition #penalty box series: imagines #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras fluff #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes #cole caufield #hughes brothers #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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johnwickb1tsch · 4 months

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Vino Veritas - Epilogue

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. NSFW. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

Epilogue: That Most Presumptuous Of All Things

“You look so handsome,” you tell Frank, smoothing his suit jacket, straightening the little cluster of white flowers in his lapel. He smiles down at you, that warmth shining in his dark eyes that you know is just for you. Even after all these years, it still gives you butterflies.

His boutonniere matches the baby’s breath braided into your hair.

All these years later, the two of you are finding yourselves at yet another destination wedding in wine country.

This time, you’re not half so annoyed about the presumptuous inconvenience.

This time, the guest list numbers two: him, and you.

No one was more surprised than you, a few months ago, when in the middle of dinner on a normal weeknight he set a river rock down in front of your plate of chicken carbonara that simply read, “Marry me?”

You’d never meant anything more, when immediately you’d answered through your laughter, “Yes.”

The two of you decided very quickly to forgo the meaningless trappings and pageantry of the conventional wedding. Who did it concern, anyway, but just the two of you?

In half an hour, you will go to the courthouse where a Justice of the Peace will say a few words over your union, and you’ll sign a piece of paper together declaring you man and wife. This last big gesture will be undeniably sweet, but you can’t help but think it won’t really change anything between the two of you. The cement of your bond set long ago, mixed with dedication, sweat, and tears poured into this precious thing between you.

It hasn’t been all roses. No real relationship ever is.

Your fights are probably the stuff of legend in his condo building. Your first big go round, after the inevitable shouting match, you’d left his apartment in a huff, needing to regroup (so as not to commit murder). When you came back you found him sitting in the dark with his head in his hands. He’d thought you’d left for good, and you promised him that night that you would always come back for him.

It’s a promise you’ve kept.

A bit more embarrassing, your make up sex is probably legend too. Mrs. Fontaine next door always gives you a certain sly little look with a twinkle in her eye, the night after.

For such an expensive building, they’d sure skimped on the thickness of the walls.

He’s tried to break up with you, twice. Once, after seeing you holding a friend’s baby, (and maybe because you somehow managed not to drop it?) he convinced himself (without asking you) that you really did want kids and were wasting your youth on him. The second time, because he insulted you. Or rather, your art. His usually impish teasing just went a bit too far, and it had been a doozy, you had to admit. No one can deliver a cuttingly true remark like Frank, and he did make you cry, though he apologized almost immediately. Ironically, in the end, the whole thing upset him more than you, the you deserve better song and dance surfacing again that you’ve fought tooth and nail.

You did not respect his wishes either instance, refusing to take no for an answer, going after him with both barrels and a vengeance. You sent flowers to his work, bribed his dry cleaner to put love notes in his jacket pockets, and left sappy balloons tied to his car. You even threatened to finally ambush him with the boombox (you didn’t even own one, truth be told) which finally led to a sit down at your favorite sushi joint, and your inevitable victory. As it turned out–it was exactly the assurance he’d needed all along.

Both times your love just came out the other side of the fire even stronger.

Your joy is legend too, even if only in your own mind. Frank makes you laugh every day. He makes you feel desired, and loved, and mostly saves his razor-edged observations for the rest of the world outside, which the two of you watch go by with spectators’ amusement and dismay. Talking shit remains your number one pastime together. At some point, the little things each of you does that inevitably annoys the other becomes more of a running joke. Your love language includes flipping each other off regularly and playfully trading barbs. It’s hard for others to believe, but his devotion to you is thoughtful and complete. You do your best every day to return it in kind. Some days you fall short, and sometimes he does too, but on the whole you make eachother happy, and somehow five years have flown by.

“You look beautiful.” His approval fills your heart like a sunrise. You’re wearing a simple white lace dress that hits just above your knee. If you have to run from a mountain lion, you’re not going to trip over your skirts. Your shoes? Might be another matter.

“Thanks.”

“I like the heels,” he says with a smirk, as though his thoughts are aligned with yours. They often are as of late, you’ve found. Your shoes are actually the same wedge platforms you wore to a different wedding you attended together, what feels like a lifetime ago.

“I thought you hated these shoes?” you tease.

“Oh no. It will be impossible for you to run from me, when you finally come to your senses,” he says with a little smile, touching a strand of hair by your ear lightly. You shudder as it sends a thrill across your skin, and if you’re being honest, straight to your loins. Whose ridiculous suggestion was it, anyway, to forego intimacy before the wedding?

Ok, so it was yours–and Frank has been delighting in torturing you over the past month. You just might expire over the time it will take to get to the courthouse, go for a leisurely drive through the vineyards, and sit through a nice dinner at one of the wineries overlooking the fields at sunset. Sex is yet another thing between you that has somehow only gotten better with time, and to say you are looking forward to your wedding night would be an understatement.

“This was all your idea,” you remind him. “Are you…rethinking it? If you are–”

He snorts and pulls you against him, lifting you on tiptoe with an arm around your waist and kissing you so deeply you know you’ll have to re-apply your lipstick.

Ah well.

“Woman…” He rests his forehead against yours, and you smile, ridiculously content in this moment with him.

“Why do you want to get married, Frank?” You realize, perhaps hilariously, you never actually asked him, so delighted that you just rolled with it. You already practically live together, at his place and yours. You’re both financially independent. You’re not planning on starting a family. Your commitment to each other was already set in stone.

“I felt like we needed a challenge. We’ve been entirely too happy,” he says with that smirk that makes you roll your eyes.

“Come on.”

“And if something happens to me, I don’t want my mother or Keith to be able to pull my plug.”

You poke him in the ribs for this. For some reason, he’s convinced himself this morbid scenario is inevitable. “I already have your medical POA.”

He squirms away with a grunt of amusement before grabbing you up again, his gaze softening for you once more. “Because, I love you, more than anything or anyone.”

You believe him too. The thing about Frank, is that he does not make this shit up. He says what he’s thinking, at the moment he thinks it–and you think your heart really might explode. “Likewise,” you assure him with a smile, tilting your head to receive another gentle kiss that curls your painted toes. “Are you ready to go?”

He nods, and maybe you are feeling some pre-wedding jitters now. Because you still think this man is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, and sometimes it is still a little hard to believe that he’s all yours.

You grab your purse, he grabs the keys, and together you walk out the door towards the next big step of your life, together.

The End, which is really just to say, another beginning…

Thank you everyone who’s come on this wacky journey with me and supported this fic! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @scarlettspectra @sweetwolfcupcake @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog @nightmare-bean @discoscoob @thewhumpcaretaker and SO many others, (I didn’t want to make you feel weird by tagging you if we’ve never actually talked but I SEE YOU! 😘) your comments and likes and reblogs gave me life and helped me actually finish! FULL credit to @nightmare-bean for the rock proposal idea, I love it so much! 🤣

#destination wedding #destination wedding movie #frank x you #Frank MrNiceCaboose #frank x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #frank reeves x you #im sorry im just feeling mushy lately 😆#fluff

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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wb yan! Sweet prince vs yan! Cold prince from another country? Like a sunshine vs ice thingg with duchess/duke reader.

"Y/n, Y/n~! Look, I made you a flower crown."

That little brat. Arriving to their meeting nearly an hour late to play with dead plants. As added salt to the wound, it was some filthy, common solider who escorted the visiting royal to the study as apposed to that fair solider who had thawed his icy heart ages ago.

It was love at first sight for the stone faced prince. Well, second if going by technicalities. He thought of you as nothing more than his older relatives lap dog, until he saw the you your prince held at bay. A head steady soldier with a misplaced heart, but a strong sense of justice. You were a saving light, an idol those wise would follow and looked up to. Your time and beauty was a waste on a fool like that man.

"It is beautiful, My Prince. Thank you."

You kneel to allow the prince to place his crown on your head. It drives a knife twice over within the heart of the onlooking royal. My Prince. A title he wouldn't deserve in either his proudest or final moment. A real prince would shower a treasure like you in jewels that capture a tenth of your charm, but priceless all the same. He couldn't stand it.

"Is everything alright, your majesty?"

The prince's cold stare cracks due to the surprise of being the party address in conversation. He huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"That's "My Lord" to you, Knight."

Holding your tongue, you nod. "Yes, My Lord."

He does feel bad for his tone, but being abrasive has lead to majority of his victories in life. Your prince frowns.

"Hmph, he's always cranky even he first arrives. Don't worry about it too much, Y/n. He won't be here for long anyway."

At your angle, you miss the smile that crosses your prince's face.

"I'm not bothered by it. If you'll excuse me, I have business to tend to elsewhere." You leave the room despite the verbal and silent commands otherwise. Your prince takes his first at last.

"The wedding will be in spring if you wanted to know. Gives you enough time to put your focus on someone other than my Y/n."

"The only reason you're still alive is because I would be the prime suspect

#Sunshine prince #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere prince #Icy prince #yandere drabble

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gabessquishytum · 8 months

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King Time and Queen Night declared war on a smaller kingdom next to theirs for no other reason than they wanted more land. They declared war and to everyone suprise they lost. Badly. And so they had to give up a proportion of their land and send over one of their children as a war prize. They send Dream their least favourite child and a disgraceful omega at that, sure he will anger them into killing him soon and so they won't need to worry about their superior blood mixing with those filthy mutts.

A year later, the King and Queen are surprised to see Dream at the resigning of the peace treaty alive, heavily pregnant and happily married to the third prince.

(This is actually an idea of how Hob has a lot of siblings, and Dream is surprised to see how they are totally different from his own family. )

I love the idea of Hob having lots of siblings!! Maybe some are related by birth, and others are adopted. They're a mix of alphas and omegas, and in general there seems to be a very different attitude to omegas in Hob’s country. They're treated with just as much respect as alphas.

Hob’s siblings are all fascinated by the "war prize" that's been delivered. As one of the older ones, Hob has to hold back the little ones from swarming the poor foreign prince, who already looks terrified. Hob’s two elder sisters are already married and have many state duties to attend to, so Hob is happy to have the task of looking after the new guest. He rescues Dream from his little brothers and sisters and gets him set up in a nice room. Dream seems confused by it all. Why is everyone being so pleasant? Is it all a trick?

Dream doesn't really trust Hob until he seems him playing with the children - letting them ride on his back, helping them with a difficult lesson, breaking up a fight over a broken toy. Despite being an alpha, Hob is clearly an excellent caretaker, and he's so sweet with his younger siblings. All the children of the King and Queen in this realm seem so happy, like they really trust each other.

It doesn't take long for Dream to fall in love with the kind, homely alpha prince. He's surprised to find that Hob returns his affections - Dream has always considered himself unlovable, but apparently he's not. When Dream has his first heat in his new home, Hob is there with him the whole time... and yes, there's a slightly hasty wedding afterwards, but Hob’s family don't seem at all upset.

Dream is a very different person as he stares hautily at his parents across the room. He's sitting down, to spare his poor pregnant body, and one of Hob’s littlest siblings has nestled up in his lap, curled around his bump. Hob is fussing over him, never taking his eyes off his omega for a moment. Dream is quite clearly loved.

As he very much deserves.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse

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luci4theminorannoyance · 8 months

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I'm sorry to bother you. May I request an Angry/ fluff?

I saw this one episode from Helluva Boss about moxie. He has a toxic father and being forced to wed, and Millie saved him from a forced marriage.

Can you put the fem!Reader in the same situation? Being forced to wed and their partner rescue them?

141 squad + Valeria .

If this is too much writing for you... You can ignore it.

a/n: hi!! Guess who just wrote all of this and didn’t save! Also- no writing is too much for me :)

Gaz:

-you didn’t tell him, just imagining the tears in his eyes was enough to make you feel horrid. He was so sweet to you, he didn’t deserve this but you didn’t have a choice

-he didn’t know until he came by to say hello after a long mission only for one of the maids to tell him you were off getting married!

-his heart was racing, did you not love him? Were you actually doing this? Why? No. No it wasn’t you. It had to be your family.

-even though he wasn’t invited, he walked in anyway, sitting in the front seat with a mask to cover his face and his nerves on edge

-and seeing you walk down the isle was enough to make him cry before he sprang into action, grabbing you by the wrist and walking you outside before anyone could do anything

-“next time I see you on an isle it better be you and me, luv. Yah?” Gaz hummed as he kissed you right outside the churches doors, a smile gleaming on his face

soap:

-he always had hated your family, their little comments against you and their glares at him always making his blood boil, if he could punch all of them he would in an instant and would have fun doing it

-the second you told him, all teary eyed and sobbing? He felt a sickening sense of jealously overwhelm him. You were his girlfriend and if a single rich jerk wanted you they would have to put up with him

-he of course, showed up to your wedding, knocking open the door with pure adrenaline shooting through him as he picked you up over your shoulder and carried you out

-he was a mix of emotions, and his adrenaline didn’t calm down until you were with him in the car, in his arms once again

-“yer alright ain’t ye, Bonnie? or should I go back ‘n and punch one of ‘em for ye?”

ghost:

-pretended to be okay with it, pretended to be fine with it, pretended to be okay with losing you even if he knew you were the only girl he had let in for a long time seriously

-he even saw you get up to the altar before he snapped. He couldn’t take it! He didn’t care if the fucking body guards hauled him away in the end he just couldn’t see you be unhappy

-of course everyone was shocked, including the poor groom who was just as uncomfortable as you were and was shoved aside by ghost

-ghost practically took you and ran. Didn’t even process what he did until you two were all the way at his apartment

-“fuck…. Hey, luvie- any idea on what we’re gonna do now or should I just hope your family doesn’t come and find you?”

price:

-oh now he’s just amused. Your family trying to take away you? From him? Ain’t that just sweet. he didn’t take them seriously even at the wedding. He knew he could pull this off and hopefully keep you with him where you wanted to be

-inside he was honestly scared though.. what if you did want this? What if he can’t think of a way to keep you safe? What if he fails?

-he treated it like a mission. Step one; show up with a fast get away car and grab you before you even get to the church, step two: cuddle with you till he forgets all the stress (although he wouldn’t admit that part until you let him)

-he got you home in the end, still in your dress and still stressed from the entire ordeal.. but now he has you back, that’s all that matters to him.

valeria:

-much to her men’s surprise, she didn’t… go in guns blazing! She simply payed people off. Oh your family is sending you to a country to marry someone? Too bad she’s there and the groom disappeared. Your family hides where you are? Whomp whomp, she’s already at the door ready to kiss you all over and simply walk out with you next to her

-over time it was practically a game for her, she knew you and her would marry eventually. Although she was starting to get bored of the white wedding gown she had seen you in at least five times now. Although you looked stunning in it all the same

-“you know, mi vida; when I marry you I should buy you a different dress. I’ve seen this one so many times it’s not even a surprise anymore, maybe you can choose it out and you can show it to me on the isle, hm?”

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creedslove · 1 year

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DESERVE IT - PART SIXTEEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Not even all the domesticity with Javier in the world is capable to keep the two of you together once his connection with Los Pepes is discovered

Warnings: angst, hurt, mentions of smut, incorrect narcos plot and a little bit of fluff but overall just angst

A/N: this chapter made me sad, I love this story and I'm sad this chapter happened, it made me tear up a little, but it is important for our story besties, I just hope you will like it 😿

• PART ONE TO FIFTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

3.8k words

You made sure to wake up very early the next morning, your heart couldn't take the love you were holding at that moment. Javier had asked you to marry him.

And you had said yes.

You still couldn't quite believe it, your head ached a little from the wine you drank the night before, but it was way better than you expected, after all that went on as well, you thought you'd be dead in the morning.

The amount of alcohol you had, the argument with Steve, then the situation with Javi followed by his disappearance and the mind blowing sex you had together and finishing things off with a marriage proposal. You were undoubtedly exhausted.

After he proposed to you and you said yes, you shared a passionate kiss. It was tender and gentle, sweet and it spoke so many words about your relationship without having to use words, and then Javi took you as his again, only this time he wasn't fucking you, he was making love to you, because you weren't just any woman and you weren't only his girlfriend, you were now officially his soon to be wife. A wife he wanted and craved because he wanted to marry you, he wanted to build a life with you, and not because he felt pressured into doing it, but because you were the one he wanted to share his life with.

Of course you weren't engaged yet, it wasn't official in the sense of having an engagement ring or setting a date for the wedding, but it was official enough for the two of you. Javier's mother's ring was in a box in the bottom of his wardrobe, but you didn't mind if he hadn't handed it over to you, it was a beautiful memory he kept from his mom, you knew how painful it was for both Javier and his dad when she passed and as much as a hard moment like that could help them narrow their bond, it seemed it only split them apart further.

And after what happened in his first engagement, when Lorraine refused to return him the ring and he almost lost it, you would perfectly understand if he got scared of giving it to another woman.

But Javier had asked you to marry him and that was all that mattered to the two of you.

Javier had serious commitment issues and if he had overcome all of it, it was because he was ready to tie the knot with you. You couldn't deny the pride you felt to know you were the one who made Javier's heart beat faster, he didn't escape you like he escaped others, you weren't just a fuck for him, you were going to be his wife, you were sure, because he would never ask something like that just because, it had a meaning to it, you knew it.

You were going to marry Javier Peña. That spread a heat across your reddening cheek and it made you giggle like a teenager, making you so distracted as you didn't even notice the moment Javi got up and walked to you.

He didn't bother putting on clothes other than his jeans and walked to the kitchen after you, a soft smirk on his lips as he remembered how you said yes to his proposal. He was a happy man that morning, despite everything bad that was happening in his job and in the country. Not even his fight with Steve bothered him, because all that mattered was that he was going to be a married man and you would be his beautiful sweet wife.

Just his arms snaking around your body as he kissed your neck without warning and making you squeal in surprise "distracted, cariño?" He raised his eyebrow at you and you chuckled softly "a little yes… good morning mi amor" you replied immediately turning around and watching his shirtless figure, one hand on his shoulder and another one on his waist. His broad naked chest and his cute belly just there, exposed for your enjoyment. Javier was a beautiful, handsome man, and as he was aware of his charm, you wondered if he knew how handsome he really was.

He licked his lips softly and looked at you, feeling a little unnerving as you would barely blink while looking at him and he felt… shy?

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked but you shook your head and chuckled

"No, I'm just admiring you because you are handsome"

Javi ran his hand through his hair and looked down, yes, he was definitely feeling shy. He cleared his throat and looked at you "stop mariposa" he eyed over your shoulder and bit his lips as he saw you were making breakfast. It wasn't his turn to make pancakes, instead, you were making him eggs and bacon.

His mouth watered at the sight of it, he couldn't resist that breakfast, just like he often ate when he was growing up at the ranch and he couldn't believe you were making that. He smirked at you "practicing to be a wife?" He raised his eyebrow and tried stealing a bacon bit, but you slapped his hand away.

"You can bet your cute ass, I am, Javier and my first action as a wife is sending you to shower because after all we did last night, you are sticky with sweat" you said as your hand ruffled his greasy hair.

Javi chuckled and shook his head "no seas tan mala conmigo" he mumbled and slapped your ass, making you squirm before walking to the bathroom.

A shower later, Javi had also shaved and trimmed his mustache. He had great expectations for that day. After all the shit he did the night before, Judy had promised him she would go down to the embassy and would confess, ratting on all the other crime lords that brought so much terror to the country.

It would be either that or she would go to the american press and rat on Javier instead. And then, his career would be over if he got lucky. If he didn't, he would simply go to jail.

So he hoped really hard the only possible option would be to welcome Judy at the embassy. He couldn't afford to have her tell the Miami Herald about the link to Los Pepes, it wouldn't take the DEA long to connect the dots and figure out which long term agent she would be talking about. As he dressed himself in his good suit - the one Steve often called Messina suit - he thought of how things had to work out that day. It was the only option, he couldn't just have that screwed up, his future depended on that, your future together depended on that. He knew Pablo's situation was getting tight and it would be a matter of time to catch him. Peña had thought of how ironic life really was. The biggest monster in Colombia had found his ruin once he got separated from his family. It always baffled Javier how a man who could do the cruelest things, could also be a loving husband and father. Of course it was common for every agent to know about Pablo's escapades and his collection of mistresses, his own wife probably knew about it and pretended she didn't, that was a part Javier didn't quite get, he understood the appeal, the power Escobar had and how he could have any woman in the country just because he was himself, and women wouldn't deny him, either for money or by fear. But at the same time, he'd seen surveillance photos enough times to know his wife was a beautiful woman, she'd given him two children, a family and he just couldn't understand how Escobar could jeopardize that for a couple of hours of fun with someone else. Of course, she probably didn't have much choice, she was married to him for life, and he would never let her go. When you marry a narco, it is literally till death do us part.

Javi didn't approve that, he wasn't a cheater and despite what everyone thought of him, he didn't just go and cheated on his girlfriend, of course most of his relationships didn't last long, but the moment he ever got bored, he just broke things up, it was better than making them suffer in the long run. The only he couldn't bring himself to do it was Lorraine, he was young and stupid, clueless and thought he would be able to go through a marriage with her, and when he was finally honest with himself and saw that no, he wouldn't be able to go through a marriage with her, he left her at the altar.

It was a horrible thing, a real dick move and he regretted that every single day even if he had already asked her for forgiveness so many times, he still felt bad about doing that to her. Even more so when he learned you had been through the very same thing. He got nauseous to know in a sense, he was the same as your ex-fiance was. It was something horrible to do, but Javi still think it was better than putting Lorraine through a loveless marriage, she was a good, decent girl, beautiful and she dreamed of a family, a family she got when she married her current husband, a man who really appreciated her unlike Javi, and that turned out for the best because she found someone she loved and years later, Javier found you.

He finished with his tie, groaning softly as it was early in the morning, he'd just left shower and he was already starting to sweat. He hated wearing suits and above all, he hated wearing them in Colombia.

But he would never hate the way you stared at him when he wore one. Ever since you arrived in the country, when you two were nothing more than just friends, you couldn't keep your eyes off him, he always thought it was amusing how you would look at him. And that was exactly the look you gave him once you spotted him walking towards you.

You really thought that after you and Javier got together, he would stop having that effect on you, but it turns out it hadn't ceased at all.

You were still mad for Javier, there was no way to fight it.

So you completely ignored the table you had made for him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his lips deeply, before going to his beautiful sharp jawline.

You giggled and chuckled as his hands went around your waist, gripping you and pulling you closer to his body.

"So, are you dressed for our wedding?" Your raised your eyebrow and Javi nodded

"Yeah, and where's your wedding dress? Not that I'm complaining to marry you in my shirt and panties, but I think the guests would be a little shocked" he laughed softly and you slapped his chest playfully.

"Come on, I made you breakfast like a sweet little housewife, Peña, the least you can do is to sit down and have it" you pouted and watched as he saw on the chair, immediately going for his lap and getting comfortable.

You rested your head on top of Javi's feeling his soft hair on your chin and the scent of his shampoo as he began eating. You were so happy you wish you could just take him away from all the chaos and stress of DEA and hide away with him for a while. Maybe you two needed vacation, or maybe you two needed to go on your honeymoon already.

Javi moaned as he tried your breakfast, he knew he was a shitty cook and you only liked his pancakes because they were made by him, but your bacon and eggs were the best thing he ate for breakfast in so long.

He used his fork with his right hand as his left hand rested absentmindedly on your thigh, still tracing invisible lines on your skin with the tip of his fingers. You smiled at yourself, but Javi sighed deeply, putting his silverware down and holding you by the waist, as he indicated for you to sit on the chair next to him, he needed to look at you, into your eyes and be honest with you.

Javi took your hand, caressing gently and took a deep breath.

"I need to tell you what happened last night…" he licked his lips softly and began his account. He tried ignoring the worry and the fear in your eyes and didn't spare you any details. Javi wanted to protect you from everything bad in the world but he knew he couldn't. So as long as he could keep you physically okay, he decided he wouldn't hide any information from you, he wouldn't keep secrets, if you were going to be his wife, then he would be brutally honest with you.

So he told you all about that happened, about Judy, about her promise of going to the embassy and how she would rat on Javi in the american press if things didn't work.

You shook your head, so many questions and comments nearly rolling down your tongue, but you held yourself, you wanted Javier to tell you everything, you had the impression he was venting, he was letting things out. For the first time he was honest about all the implications that could happen to him and once Javier was done. You were at a loss of words, so the only thing you thought of doing was kissing him.

It was the best way you could show him support and he understood it perfectly, kissing you back, he accepted your offer. You both understood each other like no one ever would.

You washed the dishes as Javi apologized to you for not giving you a ride, but he would go straight to the Embassy earlier than you would go to the office. You shook your head and made sure to remind him not to worry about you at all, you would be fine, and you also told him he would be fine, even if you weren't so sure, you had to be supportive, so you pecked his lips and wished him good luck as he walked out the door.

•••

You were almost finishing getting dressed, as you put on your earrings and some lipstick when someone knocked on your door. You thought it was odd as you didn't really get visitors and neither did Javi, but you needed to check who it was, maybe it was just someone who missed the right door or even the mailman, you had no idea, but you would definitely check the peephole, as Javi had taught you and insisted you never opened the door to anyone you didn't know, especially at his place. He had a deep, dark fear of you being caught in an ambush meant for him. You shook those scary, depressing thoughts as you walked to the door, taking a look at the peephole just like he'd told you many times. You sort of chuckled to yourself: he would definitely be proud of you.

But you were in no mood to chuckle, as you saw Steve standing there. You groaned and the annoyance of his presence was intense. You want to ignore him, pretend no one was at home at the same time you wanted to open the door and let him know what you thought of him. And it wouldn't be flattering, that was for sure.

"Come on Y/N, open the door. I need to talk to you right now. Please" he asked and rubbed his forehead, sighing sadly "first of all, I want to apologize for being a dick, for offending you but I want to talk to you about Javier" he added "it's important"

You thought of turning your back and finish getting dressed, but at the same time your attention was caught by his words. If it was about Javier, it concerned you.

You sighed, taking a deep breath and opened the door, letting him in and looked at him

"What about Javi?"

"Y/N, I want to apologize for what I did to you last night, I was really bad to you, I shouldn't have said those things, you were always nothing but nice and sweet to me, you've always helped me and you are so nice to my wife and kids, I'm sorry if I ruined our friendship, but I was mad at Javier. I was fucking out of my mind, and I drank too much and I wanted to hurt him and I knew I would hurt him if I hurt you too" Steve sighed "I'm worried… I don't think Judy will give in, she is probably in Miami now, and the moment her interview hits the street, the DEA will be able to connect Javi with her accusations… he'll probably lose his badge, and he'll go to jail…" he sighed "Javier is my friend too, he's the closest thing I have to a best friend and I don't want to see that happening to him"

You nodded and bit your lips.

You didn't know what was going to happen, but you felt a killing anxiety in your heart and all you wanted was to get to the end of the day and meet your handsome boyfriend.

You spent your hours at work unable to focus, no one could provide you any information in order to calm you down a little. Colleen was a useless skank, all she did in that office was gossip about everyone else and hit on Javier; Steve had gone to the Embassy too, though he would be back as the tactical team was working on another ambush for Pablo.

Manu walked by your desk a few times, handing you papers here and there, but besides addressing you in such a businesslike manner, he didn't give you the time of the day.

You were so anxious at some point you caught yourself with your fingers close to your mouth, one step away from biting your nails. But you stopped yourself, thinking of how Javi loved your well-painted nails. The sweet reminder brought a smile to your face and the sense of calmness to your heart. Even if you knew it wasn't going to last, you were still thankful for it. The hours dragged themselves and you felt every single minute you spent trapped in that office was pure torture, you wanted to reach out for Javi and call him, even if it was only to hear his voice, you wanted that purring voice calling you cariño or princesa, or any other pet name that made your heart race. You even thought of going home earlier, but it wouldn't work as Javier would always arrive later than you.

You then forced yourself to work, bury your head into a pile of papers, reading, analyzing, correcting and redoing the process over and over. If you did that enough times, you promised yourself you would feel a little better, by being distracted.

And it worked, it worked to the point you only realized you were the only one in your office when you lifted your head up and looked around to see the other desks empty and the dark outside the window, but that didn't stop you, you drowned yourself into more work, now not wanting to face the possibilities and results of Javi's actions, you just couldn't lose him.

And you worked some more, only stopping when you smell the cigarette smoke and some steps walking to your table.

He'd lost his suit jacket somewhere, his tie was loosened and he didn't look you in the eyes.

"Cariño… I-I'm going to Washington"

•••

The two days that passed were nothing much than a blur to you, that bitch known as Judy Moncada had escaped to Miami and given her her interview. It didn't take a genius to figure out which long term DEA agent she was talking about, so the Board Of Professional Conduct wanted to see him immediately. You tried to be your best to your boyfriend, the two of you knew things wouldn't be easy from that moment on and you didn't want to show him you were gutted, even though you were. You just didn't want to add more guilt to him, he was already going through a bad enough situation, Steve was now really close to catching Escobar and after giving years of his life in order to chase him down, he was about to miss it.

He was just facing a nerve-wracking situation, Javi couldn't even sleep for the past couple of nights, he would smoke one cigarette after another and no matter what you told him, he was distant.

You didn't know if he wanted to push you away or if he was just doing it unconsciously, it broke your heart to think of the little time you had to spend with him would be so impersonal. You wanted to cry, to scream at him, at the same time you also understood the turmoil of feelings he went through.

You even went to Messina's office to beg her for the position she'd previously offered you in the US, so it would be a lot easier for you to be with Javi if you stayed in the same country, even if he left the DEA.

The night before his trip, Javi pulled you to his body, he looked you into your eyes and asked you for forgiveness, for every single thing he had ever done to you, from the time you were just friends, to when you guys simply became nemesis, and then when you finally admitted your love for each other. Javi made you promise him you would call and write to him, and he would do the same. He also made you promise that one day you'd marry him.

So he got on his knees and opened a small ring box, offering you his mother's ring as your engagement ring.

You'd said yes and kissed him deeply, not getting enough of him even when he was buried deep inside of you. You two had made love that night, but nothing ripped your heart apart than taking him to the airport.

The way he gripped your body and didn't want to let go even when the passengers of his flight were being called and he shot you his puppy eyes one last time before boarding on the plane and leaving you.

You were still stronger than you thought you would be, breaking down only when you got to his apartment, seeing how empty it was now that Javier was gone.

____

A/N: THIS CHAPTER HAS MADE ME UNBELIEVABLY SAD, LIKE MY HEART IS HEAVY KINDA SAD 😭😭😭😭 IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN, I'M JUST SAD

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flowerprincesscherryblossom · 1 year

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just once

pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader word count: 2204 warnings: angst, royalty au, smut, arranged marriage, infidelity, mirror sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, loss of virginity AO3 A/N: Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

It had been hammered into your head ever since you were old enough to walk and talk, even if it came with tumbles and gibberish, that when you came to the age of twenty that you would be married off to the oldest prince of the neighboring country.

You never really gave much thought to it, royal marriages such as yours aren't made for couples in love, they're were made to strengthen the union between the two kingdoms - nothing but politics, love, and other such feelings weren't welcome.

You had always hoped that, at the very least, friendship could bloom between you and your future husband.

You met prince Seokjin three months before the wedding was supposed to take place, you assumed that it was due to both sides wanting the future couple to get to know each other, not that it matters much, both of you barely talk to one another due to always being under the watchful eye of both queens.

Looking back, you never really understood the point of said meetings, how could you get to know each other when the only time you were allowed to speak and see one another was when you were, quote-unquote, helping plan your future wedding?

You knew from the beginning that you would never find love with Seokjin, but you never expected to find the closest similar emotion to it with the youngest Kim brother.

You met Taehyung a couple of days after meeting your future husband, according to him the youngest Kim was supposed to arrive in your castle on the same day as his brother but unfortunately had some personal business that required his utmost attention.

The way your heart skipped a beat when he bowed before you and the way it started beating so loud that it was the only sound your ears could pick up when he took your hand and press a soft kiss on your knuckles was something that it couldn't be helped.

Looking back at your first interaction, as you stared at the mirror on the vanity as your maids fixed your hair and applied makeup, you realize that you had fallen for him the moment he flashed you his boxy smile.

You felt tears stinging in the corner of your eyes as you remembered every single interaction the both of you have had. Although they seemed sweet and innocent to the outside world the both of you knew it meant more than that - simple touches and gazes that lingered far more than what should be appropriate, secret late-night meetings where conversations of everything and nothing were held, both of you always making sure to never cross the line of no return, no matter how much you want it.

"You're finished your Grace," you're pulled into reality by the sound of your head maid's voice. Chaerin had been with you for as long as you remembered, serving both as a mother figure and a best friend, always looking out for you. "I think even prince Seokjin will be jealous of how gorgeous your Grace's is."

Normally you would give her a small smile, simply to humor her, but today wasn't one of those days, so you just hummed.

With a sigh Chaerin dispersed the other maids, most likely knowing you needed a moment to yourself.

Looking at your reflection you felt sick. Everything about it made you want to jump out of your window - the hair, the makeup, the necklace whose jewels glisten brighter than the sunlight, the pure white dress seemed to mock you with its constant reminders of the life that was waiting for you.

"Try to keep calm your Grace," the older woman said, trying to reassure you as her hand squeezed your shoulder. "You could've done worse than the prince. At least, he'll treat you with the kindness and care you deserve."

She was right but that didn't stop the pain you felt inside. As tears began to slip down your cheeks you bit your lower lip, not wanting all the work the maids had put into to go to waste.

"I'll go make some tea to calm your nerves," she said with a hoarse voice, trying to hold back her tears, before giving you a peck on the side of the head and walking out of the room.

With the sound of the now-closed door, you finally felt free enough to break down. You felt so broken, you didn't want to do anything other than to crawl back into your bed and hoping to wake up from this nightmare you found yourself in. You wanted to run away, far far away from this place, somewhere where no one would know anything about you, you had even brought that idea with Taehyung many times but, much to your dismay, he always turned it down - not wanting you to live your life on the run.

"Beautiful girls shouldn't cry on their wedding day," you were pulled out of your downward spiral by the sound of the deep voice that haunted your every moment.

You looked at Taehyung through the mirror, not wanting to look at him since you felt yourself breaking down once again.

"I came across Chaerin on the hall and she told me about it," he answered the question that was on your mind. It didn't come as a shock that your maid knew about your feelings towards the youngest Kim brother, however, you were surprised that she would allow the two of you to meet hours before your wedding to his older brother.

"Y-You shouldn't be h-here," you tried to sound domineering through your tears, failing miserably. "I-If anyone finds you-"

"Nobody will come here," he interrupted stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you in an embrace, burying his face on the crook of your neck. "Chaerin is making sure that no one interrupts your time alone."

You relaxed against his touch, closing your eyes and imagining a world where the both of you could be together without any repercussions. "I love you," you whispered softly, even if you were the only two people in the room a part wanted him to be the only one who'd hear these words.

"I love you too, so much" his embrace got tighter, almost afraid that were he to let go you'd fall into his brother's arms much quicker.

A silence befell the two of you, the only sounds being heard were the preparations outside your window and the whimpers and choked sobs both of you released. The clock was ticking down and with it, your time together was becoming minuscule, and with a deep breath, you decided that, for once, you'd do what you wanted instead of what was expected.

"Can we be together the way only lovers can?" you said softly, turning to look at him and placing a peck on his cheek. "Please? Just this once?"

"I don't think that's a good idea princess," Taehyung stepped away from you. "It will hurt more afterward."

"I know it's not the most conventional idea," you sighed, still not willing to give up. "But I just want to give the one I love my everything before I'm bound to someone else for eternity," you took his hand and started to spread kisses throughout his knuckles. "Will you please allow me that pleasure?"

He takes your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "As you wish," pressing his lips against yours, your first kiss being a soft and tender one.

Leaning your head back Taehyung presses his mouth against yours more firmly, your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Separating for breath he spreads kisses along your neck, you tilt your head back and crane your neck to give him better access, wishing he was allowed to mark you.

"Turn around princess, bend over the vanity," doing what you're told, you close your eyes when you feel his hands roaming through your body, letting out a moan when his hands cup your breasts through your dress.

When Taehyung pushed your dress higher, and started to rub you through your underwear, a part of your heart couldn't help but be disappointed over the fact that you were in such a rush that you couldn't remove your clothes and feel his skin on yours.

Pushing your panties to the side Taehyung rubbed the wetness around your slit before inserting a finger inside. Letting out a gasp at the foreign feeling you looked at the mirror, locking eyes with Taehyung who was looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

"I wish I had more time with you," inserting a second finger in you, the youngest Kim thrusts started to increase in speed.

"T-Tae," you moaned as he curled his fingers, loving the sensation of his fingers rubbing against your walls. "You're clenching around my fingers so tightly princess," you moan aloud when you felt him rubbing your clit.

When you felt close to your finish Taehyung pulled his fingers out of your sopping center, making you let out a whine at the absence, and pulled his length out of his pants, using your essence as lubricant.

"It's going to hurt a bit in the beginning," he said lining himself at your entrance. "I'm going to do my best not to hurt you."

He starts to push inside of you, the pain you felt as his cock slowly filled you until he bottom out, made you scratch the surface of the vanity, both of you letting out groans at the sensation. Taehyung's thrusts were slow but they made you feel so full, spreading kisses throughout your neck before gripping your jaw, making you face him so he could press his lips on yours.

"How do you feel?"

"I-I'm g-good," you kept letting out whimpers at the burning sensation. You were on the verge of tears due to the pain but you keep it to yourself, the pain would remind you of the short moment you spent together.

As his hips kept moving and your body was getting used to the stretch of his cock against your walls the pain started to turn into pleasure. You tossed your head back, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a mantra of his name. "T-Tae,"

"Do you want to keep going princess?"

"Y-Yes," you gasped when you felt him rubbing circles on your clit. "P-Please faster."

His thrusts started gaining momentum, the sound of skin against skin making you grow wetter. "Oh God," Taehyung's groans and your moans bouncing off the walls as both of you could feel your finish.

You were the first one to break apart, releasing all over him and his name escaping your lips one last time, grateful for the fact that he was still holding you close to him, or else your legs would've given out.

Taehyung's thrusts became rougher and faster, him jackhammering into your cunt as he chased his high. With a whiny cry of his name he spilled deep inside of you, ropes painting your walls as the both of you made eye contact through the mirror reflection and worked on regulating your breaths.

As the high felt your body the realization of your actions started to settle, and with it, came back the pain that this was the first and last time you two would be together.

Your cries were the only thing that filled the silence of the room as Taehyung pulled out of you and worked his best to fix your dress. Once sure that you looked presentable he took your face in his hands once again and pressed his lips against yours, wanting it to be memorable.

"I love you," he said pressing his head against yours, closing his eyes to try to compose himself and not let his tears fall.

"I love you too," you let out a dry chuckle. "You were right. It hurts so much more now."

With one more kiss shared Taehyung walked towards the door, pushing the door ajar, checking to see if anybody was in the hall before leaving as quietly as he had entered.

He didn't spare you a look but the sob that escaped him before the door was closed told you everything you need to know.

It wasn't long before Chaerin arrived with the other maids to add the finishing touches of the wedding dress, having to arrange your hair and makeup once more.

You kept your eyes on your reflection the entirety of the procedure, feeling so numb to everything that the scalding tea had little to no effect on you.

As the gown was settled in your head you couldn't help but think of how useless and empty life had been up until you met Taehyung, years and years of being trained to be the perfect bride and wife only for it to crumble before it even got a chance of being applied.

With a sigh, you tried to shrug off any feelings you had in order to get through the ceremony. You had long accepted the cards that had been dealt to you, now would be no different.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung angst

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eisukevint · 7 months

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eisuke ichinomiya x desi!reader headcanons !!

im so bored so here are some headcanons bec i love being desi

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

• he hates it when he has to wait and initially when you started dating you tried your best to be on time whenever he paged you but as your relationship progressed, its game over. whenever u have to go out, you ALWAYS leave at the the desi time and he slowly got so used to it, the one and only time punctual eisuke was late to events.

• eisuke has a massive sweet tooth so when you first made him kheer, he absolutely loved it although his only words were ‘not bad’. He definitely asks you to make it again so you feed him other ‘mithai’ (sweets in urdu/hindi) like gulab jamun, rasgullay, JALEBI etc and he loves it so much.

• you make him desi food from time to time and actually requests it like you him ask ‘eisuke what do you want for dinner today?’ and he just says ‘you made nihari last time, it was good. make it again’ he finds it very flavourful.

• he’s very familiar with other cultures since he’s a businessman and often interacts with foreign businessmen. he knows about the clothes and customs of your country. imagine eisuke in kurta or sherwani EISUKE IN A KURTA A BLACK KURTA AT THAT (i would actually die). Whenever you go to family events, you always wear traditional clothes and once eisuke is invited to them, he initially just wears his suit but after some time he starts to indulge you and actually wears your traditional clothes.

• he finds it very sexy when you talk and swear in your mother language.

• eisuke is multilingual (as its mentioned in the story) so if he doesnt know your mother langauge he would DEFINITELY learn and boy his pronunciation would be so good (thats a perfectionist for you)

• he says he hates bollywood movies because theyre so extra but thats a lie. whenever u play something like ‘kabhi khushi kabhi gham’ or ‘kal ho na ho’ he always watches it with you because he’s intrigued but ALWAYS says ‘this movie is so bad i wonder why you waste time watching this stuff’

• you go around singing bollywood songs or songs in your mother tongue around the penthouse and he just enjoys it so much but he definitely wont say it out loud

• eisuke was FLABBERGASTED when you told him or rather showed him a desi wedding like why is everyone wearing such fancy clothes ??? and he’s even more surprised when he finds out there’s actually three days to a wedding and even more pre wedding events.

• he loves it when you wear mehndi on your hands, he sees mehndi as something that adorns your hand and whenever u apply it, he brings your hand up to his face and smells it because he loves thr scent.

• when you told him about all your family and by that i mean family on your mother’s and father’s side, he has to do a double take because why the fuck do you have SO many cousins? he’s trying to keep up but there’s just so many.

• your parents love him more than you. they literally said it to your face ‘oh my, such a handsome boy, how did you ever end up with our incompetent daughter’ you cannot convince me that this wont happen.

• baba asks you to teach him bhangra and other desi dance steps and you, ota and baba have the time of your life dancing to chammak challo and nach punjaban in the penthouse lounge and eisuke just looks at you like youre comitting a crime

a little something for myself bec im a self indulgent bitch (not exactly a desi headcanon but i wanted to add this)

• every eid you spend with him, he makes sure to spoil you thoroughly. he gives you so much eidi (literally) like he straight up handed you car keys once and went ‘eid mubarak ___, i know you’ve been waiting for your eidi’ and then he just smirks while you think what did you do to deserve so much. he enjoys eid festivities with you and eid ul fitr is his favourite eid.

#eisuke x reader #desi things #kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya #kissed by the baddest bidder #voltage inc #otome #love 365 #otome romance #soryu oh #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years

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Fireleaf (Part Twelve)

Hi! Thank you for all your patience and well wishes ♥️here’s part twelve. This is a long one! @greeneyedivy and I hope you enjoy! 💋

Warnings: None for this part!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

His golden skin was sallow. Dark smudges sat beneath his eyes.

Sleep had evaded Lucien until the birds had awoken to sing, the daylight as grey and watery as he felt. Too many thoughts had pelted him all night through. Too many things to consider, to understand.

A whole host of words sat on his tongue; apologies and explanations, words she deserved to hear. And yet he didn’t speak a word of them.

Neither of them spoke at all, that morning, in fact. They shared a terse, tasteless breakfast, their gazes pinned on the drear sight outside the window. He couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to her every now and then, to the pretty, white shirt and breeches she wore; couldn’t help wondering whether any of his marks lay beneath those clothes.

He didn’t deserve to know. Didn’t deserve to even look at her – not after how he’d behaved the night before, the things he’d said. The haunted look he’d left in her eyes.

And that was why he kept his mouth clamped shut as they mounted their horses and set off for home. The ride back to the Vanserra Estate would be silent and heavy, no doubt; but that was what he deserved. Silence. Stoicism.

He rode behind her, allowing his mind to bounce things around. Namely the realisation that things had changed. Or maybe he had changed. He wasn’t sure. But there had certainly been a shift – one he was going to resign himself to, accept without a fight.

And with that came a responsibility. Something he should have done long ago, but had never found a good enough reason to.

Until now. Y/N was a good reason. The only reason.

They were halfway home when Lucien turned to her and spoke for the first time since their brief acknowledgement of each other that morning.

“You go on without me, okay?” He said. “There’s something I need to do.”

Y/N’s shadowed face turned to frown at him. “Where are you going?”

“Just an errand I need to run. I’ll see you back at home.”

She stared back at him for a moment, and Lucien hated that it made his heart pick up a bit. That just her gaze on him made him feel that little bit better about the task ahead.

And then she was shrugging, her back to him once more as she continued on. Lucien watched her ride out of sight before turning his mount in the direction in which his purpose lay.

The estate in question wasn’t far from the dusty road he currently rode along. A road he’d travelled many times before, when visiting the huge country house that Tansy lived in with her family.

Tansy. She was a sweet female. Lucien had known her since his days of schooling, and knew full well that many people were expecting them to wed one day. And Lucien had tried to feel things for her beyond a sexual attraction – truly he had. But he just…couldn’t. And never would.

He knew that, now. Now that someone was finally taking up that place in his heart.

And even though he could probably never have who he wanted…he couldn’t, in all good conscience, continue giving Tansy hope that would never come to fruition. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about another female. It would be unfair to do so.

The splendid house loomed before him as his horse carried him up the winding drive. Many times, he’d dropped by for a fleeting visit. Many times, he’d had tea with Tansy’s parents and made himself at home.

And yet he thought he’d always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that something more was one day coming for him.

Just a slight inconvenience that the something more was due to wed his brother.

The front door was opening before Lucien had even reached the steps leading up to the veranda, and Tansy was hurrying out in a flash of golden hair and pale blue fabric, lifting the skirts of her gown as she descended to greet him. A wide smile broke out on her face as he slowed to a stop.

“Lucien.” She breathed, her cheeks dusted with pink, “What a lovely surprise.”

Lucien met her smile with a modest one, and he felt terrible — utterly fucking horrible — but her gut-punching beauty just did…nothing for him. She was stunning, no doubt — perhaps one of the prettiest females in the entire Autumn Court.

But she was Tansy. And not…not—

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” She broke Lucien from his brooding, stroking the neck of his horse. “Mother will be so delighted to see you. We were just preparing tea—”

“Actually,” he cut in, not wanting to get himself stuck there for hours, “I’m afraid I can’t stay for long. I…I was hoping we might talk — you and I.”

He damn near cursed under his breath at the way her eyes lit up like he’d offered to wed her right then on the spot. She smiled, clasping her hands behind her back.

“I would like that.” She said. “Let’s take a walk.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The two of them strode around the orchard in a thick silence, discomfort heavy in Lucien’s mind and bones. He knew Tansy must suspect something untoward, given that he’d barely uttered a word beyond the usual pleasantries. But this…he needed to do this. Needed to get the words out.

They’d almost walked the entire length by the time Tansy turned to him, a gentle smile on her lips. She truly was stunning; especially against the backdrop of reds and oranges and yellows; the weather was changing with what was the closest thing the Autumn Court had to a spring season, and the shades changed with it. It seemed to bring out the spun-gold shade of her hair, the vibrancy of her eyes. She pulled Lucien to a stop by a cluster of trees that were far out of sight of the house – a place where they’d sat and talked before. Kissed before. Even—

“I haven’t seen you since the Harvest Festival.” Tansy commented, her soft voice like honey. “I was wondering if you’d visit. That was almost six months ago...”

Six packed, busy months, indeed. He should have made the effort to come sooner.

Lucien nodded, shaking his thoughts off. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Things have been busy since then. But it was…imperative…that I drop by and see you today.”

“Because you need to talk to me about something.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “You see, the thing is—”

“The Festival of Growth is so close.” She cut in. “I wonder if our families will get together.”

Gods, Lucien hoped not. It made him feel awful, but all he wanted was to deliver this blow and get out of there – not see Tansy again for a while, at least until she was over it. But it was true, their two families had been known to share a celebratory meal at this time of year, when the crops for the year’s harvest would be planted, and a festival was held to bless them and ask the Mother for a fruitful few months of growth. And for their two families to get together after this–

He couldn’t think about that right now.

“Perhaps.” Was his vague answer, a polite smile on his lips. “But—”

“Do you remember,” she laughed, touching his arm, “when we snuck that bottle of wine out to the garden and got so drunk, we couldn’t find our way back? I think–”

“Tansy, I can’t see you anymore.”

Silence met him, the female’s pretty face creasing into a frown. Her lips parted slightly as she stared up at him.

“…what…?” Was all she murmured.

“I’m sorry.” Lucien licked his lips — and truly, he was. He didn’t know how people such as his father could withstand being so cold and cruel when something like this was twisting his insides. He stared into her eyes, his russet ones sincere. “Really, Tansy, I’m sorry. But I know there are…expectations…between us. And it wouldn’t be right for me to honour those when my heart’s not in it.”

Still nothing but that soft, pinched brow as she frowned up at him. He took a step back, swallowing.

“Perhaps I should leave you to—”

“Hold on a second.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t…I don’t understand. You were all over me at the Harvest Festival.”

His eyes shuttered. She was right about that — he had been all over her, seeking a night of pleasure to burn away the frustration he felt in…in Y/N’s presence. The fire he felt in her presence. Even in those early days of her living at the estate, she’d managed to get into the very corners of his mind.

And he’d used Tansy to try and fight it off. And he shouldn’t have done. And he’d known he shouldn’t at the time.

“I know.” He admitted with a soft sigh. “And I shouldn’t have done that. I have no excuses. I’m sorry, Tansy. But no matter how much pressure is on us…I can’t pretend that my head or my heart is in this when they’re just…not. It wouldn’t be fair on either of us. And I’m trying to be better…to do right by people.”

Her mouth opened and closed, like she was searching for words and utterly failing. But if Lucien knew her as well as he thought he did, she wouldn’t be speechless for long. She would have probing questions — ones Lucien didn’t particularly want to answer, whether that made him selfish or not — and he wanted to be out of there and on his way home before she did.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, squeezing her shoulder. “Truly. That…that was what I came to say. I’ll leave you to it.”

He turned on his feet, and he’d barely made two steps forward before a warm hand was enclosing around his. He stifled a sigh as Tansy pulled him to a halt.

“Wait.” She said, her tone a tad sharper than before. “Something has obviously changed.”

Lucien swallowed. Those words danced dangerously close to a territory he didn’t want to breach. Not when he’d only just started dipping his toe in those waters, privately, himself. He wasn’t ready to share it with another person.

But he inclined his chin, merely confirming. “Yes. Something has.”

Tansy cocked an eyebrow. “We’ve known each other a long time, Lucien. Don’t I deserve to know the truth, at the very least?”

He did sigh then — because yes, yes she did. He hadn’t exactly given her much to go on, and the blow had come out of the blue. And Mother above, didn’t he know it.

Tansy eyed him, her brow furrowing again. “Is…is there somebody else?”

Y/N’s face immediately flashed into his mind. Her voice that was slightly smoky and raspy. Her smile—

Something must have altered in his expression. Tansy blinked up at him, taking a step back.

“Yes.” Lucien bit out, his insides twisting. “There—there is somebody.”

“…oh.”

Oh, indeed. Just saying it aloud made him feel both hot and cold all over. He hadn’t planned this for himself, hadn’t expected it—

But here he was. And he…he thought he was done trying to run from it.

“Who is it?” Tansy asked him, her voice small, quiet.

“It’s…very complicated.” He cleared his throat. “Something I need to work through on my own and—”

“Do you love this person?”

He faltered, that four letter word seeming to slice at him. His eyes blinked at her as though she’d spoken in a foreign tongue, but his mind was whirring, churning, roiling. So many emotions battled one another inside him; panic and awe and confusion and…hope, in some strange, roundabout way. Hope that he had no right or reason to feel.

“Well?” Tansy pressed. “Do you?”

“I…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry – I can’t talk about this. I need…I need to go home.”

Home. Back to the estate. Back to—

He turned again, and this time didn’t allow himself to be stopped, his footsteps leaden and yet brisk as he hurried back through the orchard. Back through the house. Back to his horse.

He’d done what he’d come to do. He should have been leaving with a clearer head than he’d arrived with.

And yet his mind was roaring at him as he rode away.

Roaring one little, four letter word, on a torturous loop.

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He didn’t make his way home straight away. With such crowded thoughts, the open roads and fields were the best place for him to be. And he took advantage of them, spending the rest of that day riding around the gorgeous landscapes and just…allowing his thoughts to come to him. Allowing them to exist.

It was already mid-afternoon when he pitched up against a tree, giving both himself and his horse a well-earned break. The trees swayed around them, the birds singing and flying above them. Lucien crossed his legs beneath him, allowing the cold air to bite at his skin and ruffle his unbound hair. And he thought. And thought. And thought.

About her.

About how, in reality, he’d known her a short time, and yet this…thing…between them felt ancient. Like something that had lived beneath the soil for decades, watching, waiting, and had blossomed when the two of them were too near to be unaware of it any longer.

None of it made sense in his mind. All the words that just kept coming to him when he thought of her. Of the way she challenged him, provoked him, made his blood boil and his heart flutter.

He didn’t think he’d ever been in love before. Lust – absolutely. He had felt a maddening attraction for females over the years, but ones that were always temporary. And none of them had ever consumed him like this. Like…like he was sick with it. And yet, in the most glorious way possible.

He sighed to himself, tossing the core of his eaten apple onto the ground. He dug into his satchel, reaching for the trusty companion he took everywhere with him, the one that always seemed to have answers and words that remained scarily relevant and true to his very own situations. They weren’t just poems, for Lucien. They were…something to relate to. Something that he could read, and feel less lonely for doing so. Knowing that others had felt enough of these warring emotions to want to write them down. Present them beautifully.

He picked a page at random, the slight breeze seeming to choose a poem for him. And as his eyes scanned the words, he exhaled a long, deep breath, feeling a distant sense of home. Like home was in these pages. These verses.

Realisation quickly overcame him

A lust for forgiveness, an outreached hand

Emotion and thought warred within

And shouted

Screamed

He’d fallen in love, unplanned

With her wild embers

Her heart of fire

Her mind of storms

That only he

Could understand

His head fell back against the tree, a soft sigh escaping him. Such relevant, fitting words; how could he possibly ignore them? How…how could he continue to avoid what was right in front of him?

And accepting his feelings didn’t make the situation any less complicated. A pretty poem wouldn’t change that the female who consumed his thoughts was engaged to be wed — and to his brother, no less. Forcing himself to be real and true and come to terms with that truth didn’t mean it would end well for him.

It wouldn’t, in fact. It couldn’t. Because he’d fallen in love, unplanned — just like the poem said.

And she wasn’t his to love.

But he couldn’t continue the way he’d been going. Couldn’t keep hurting her. Even if it pained him to love her, and to not be loved back, he at least had the power to make sure he didn’t cause her any further hurt. That expression she’d worn the night before, when he’d spewed such vitriol out of pure, unfettered jealousy, still haunted him.

He needed to be better than that. For her.

He needed to be…to be her friend.

And perhaps the first step on that journey was to stop reading poetry that made him think of her. He shut the book, shoving it into his satchel and jumping to his feet. There was still a while to ride until he made it home. A while for him to figure out how to do this friend thing.

And he would do it. For her. If it meant she smiled and laughed for him.

Apologising would be a good start — and it was what spurred him on as he climbed back onto his horse and set off.

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Thick, inky blackness shrouded the estate by the time he made it home. The place was quiet, the hour growing late — and Lucien wondered if he’d left it too late to track Y/N down. To get the apology off his chest that was beginning to suffocate him.

He wasn’t even sure where to find her. She did a lot of solitary roaming — much like he did. And with his brothers undoubtedly settled into the games room for the night, she could be anywhere, sneaking out to the armoury, or walking through the trees, or—

His boots thudded on the floor of the opulent tea room, coming to a sudden stop. There she was, curled up on one of the settees, a book open in her hand and her face smooth in a contented sleep.

She looked…peaceful. No expression of displeasure or anger, hurt or mocking. Just…serenely beautiful, in the dim light from the nearby sconces, and the silvery moonlight that shone through the glass doors.

He should have continued onwards. Saved the apology until morning. But it was as if a higher force was urging his feet forward as he tread slowly, carefully, in her direction.

He stopped by the settee, the sounds of her soft breathing reaching him. Had he ever seen her so at ease? So unguarded? He hadn’t exactly ever given her a reason to be, not around him.

He found himself just…watching. Watching as she slept beautifully, a single strand of hair tickling her cheek. And there was no stopping him when he gradually reached a hand out.

So lightly, his fingers brushed her skin. Took that soft, silken strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, out of the way. She didn’t so much as falter in her sleep, even while the pads of his fingers lingered in her hair for a few moments longer. Just…touching. Committing the feeling to memory.

So, so beautiful. It clenched at his heart. Gods, he owed her that apology — that one, and about a million others, for all the ways he’d behaved since she’d arrived.

In the morning, he would track her down. Put things right. Offer her his friendship.

“Ah, there she is.”

The voice came from behind him, and he ripped his hand away fast as lightning, turning to find Dion in the doorway. The ease in his brother’s stance, and on his face, suggested he hadn’t suspected anything untoward.

“I was wondering where she’d got to.” He said, a fond smile on his lips. He lowered his voice, “Is she sleeping?”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Yeah — yes. She dropped her book. I was just…picking it up.”

A pathetic excuse, and yet Dion didn’t seem to notice. He smiled wider, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “I’ll take her up to bed. Care to join Eris and I for a game of cards?”

Lucien almost felt guilty, but…he wasn’t sure he could comfortably sit across from Dion. Not right now. Not when so many new realisations had come to light that he needed to deal with himself.

“I’m pretty tired.” He told him, shaking his head. “Have a good game, though. Goodnight.”

“Night, Loosh.”

Lucien turned and walked from the room — before he had to witness Dion lifting Y/N into his arms. Before he risked her waking.

Tomorrow, he repeated in his mind as he climbed the stairs. He’d apologise tomorrow.

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There was nothing — nothing — that was going to spoil your good mood.

You’d awoken to a stillness so present and potent, you’d allowed yourself to just…bask in it, awhile. To feel a serenity that was alien to you these days.

So rare for the Vanserra Estate to be anything but teeming with activity, and yet — silence. Still, blissful silence.

Beron was away on High Lord business and had taken the Lady of Autumn with him, which had prompted Dion, Eris, Jareth and Rian to set off on an impromptu hunting trip closer to home — one you’d declined to join; and Lucien, too, going by his absence in the group, as you’d watched them ride off into the distance. Where the youngest Vanserra was spending his day, you weren’t sure, but you were highly doubtful you’d run into him. And that worked out just fine for you.

Even the staff were mostly keeping to their quarters, without much to be done. It was the barest you’d seen the place since you’d arrived, and there was something liberating about trawling through the empty halls and grounds and just being met with…silence.

You happily read while taking a solitary breakfast in the tearoom. And it was while gazing out of the glass doors, across the sprawling landscape, that you decided you wanted to feel the wind in your hair and on your face. Wanted to smell the air that was tinged with a pleasant scent since the weather had begun to shift. You readied your horse and set off, no direction in mind — and that felt brilliant. To be free. Undecided. Uncontrolled.

It felt like hours that you spent riding through the sprawl of Autumn landscapes. And it was easy…easy to forget, for a while, the situation you were in. Easy to sink back into the memory of your old life, when you had been mostly free to ride where and when you wanted. To not feel a looming pair of eyes constantly on your back, a firm, unwanted hand on your shoulder.

It must have been nearing noon by the time you got back to the still-empty estate. You returned your horse to the stables, but instead of heading into the warmth of the manor, you took yourself over to the barn at the back of the property.

It was mostly disused, only housing a few old bales of hay — and it had become somewhat of a sanctuary in your time here. Nobody else ventured into it, and on more than one occasion, you’d stowed yourself away to read in the dappled rays of sunlight that peeked through the cracks, or to journal your thoughts in peace. This was the place you’d been allowed to just…be. To not sit or look or act a certain way.

You were just about to climb the steps up to the mezzanine when the door swung open again behind you, and red hair flashed in your periphery. You turned, finding Lucien traipsing in, his steps heavy on the floor.

You stopped, staring at him inquisitively, the tense set of his shoulders. How he’d known to find you here, you had no clue.

It felt…weird, looking at him now. Like some huge, invisible thing existed between you. You didn’t know whether to think of the vicious words his tongue had wielded, or what that tongue had done afterwards.

Lucien cleared his throat, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Good ride?”

You cocked an eyebrow — certainly hadn’t expected that. “Yes,” you said. “…Thank you.”

“Nice weather for it.”

“…uhuh…”

Silence. No response came as Lucien just…just stared at you. You shifted unsurely on the spot, clearing your throat and placing one foot on the first step before you.

“Right, well I’m just gonna–”

“Wait.” He cut you off. “...Wait.”

You stopped again, frowning at him. You could feel a charge. A change. As if invisible tendrils of emotion snaked around him like smoke. A rare sight, from somebody so expert at masking their thoughts, their feelings.

But you got the sense that he was trying his utmost not to mask anything as he stood there before you. The corded muscles of his arms moved as he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. And you watched — wondered what, possibly, could have gotten Lucien Vanserra so churned up.

“…Has something happened?” You broached, taking a step forward.

Lucien cleared his throat. Frowned. Shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“…okay…”

“I haven’t—I just—” He sucked in a deep breath. “There’s something I wanted to say.”

You studied him, the way tension seemed to curl in every part of his body. A strange urge arose in you to reach out and smooth your hands over his shoulders — to comfort him.

You tamped down on that thought as quickly as it had formed.

He inched closer, running his fingers through his hair. And his voice wavered, somewhat, as he said, “I owe you an apology.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I owe you an apology. Well — a few, actually, but one in particular.”

You could only stare at him. Stare, and try to work out what had shifted so dramatically from the version of him you’d seen at the inn. And it wasn’t that you preferred that version; not by any means. His words had sliced you, stung you, and had lingered more than he probably realised. But you…you had become used to his dislike for you. Resigned yourself to the fact that you tempted him as much as you irritated him. You were merely a recurring downfall he kept coming back to—

You weren’t quite sure what to do, how to face the person that was standing in front of you.

So you schooled your features into something sharp. A face you’d learned how and when to wear; how and when it would serve you best.

“If this is about the things you said,” you bit, willing ice into your tone, “forget it. I’m a big girl, Lucien. I can handle some misplaced opinions about me.”

“It isn’t just about that.” He swallowed. “It is partly — and I’m sorry. Those things I said were out of line and I didn’t mean them. But this is about…about everything.”

You folded your arms. Merely asked, “what.”

“Can we—can we sit?” He jerked his chin at one of the hay bales. “Please?”

An antagonistic part of you wanted to refuse — and perhaps that meant you were still affected by his words. Such a natural part of your defence mechanism would be to slam your walls up high and stop him from coming any closer.

But you’d never seen his dark eyes so soft — open. Never seen the genuine worry that etched itself into his face. And from the way a muscle in his jaw ticked, and his hands continued to ball at his sides, you knew it was an effort for him to present himself like this. To keep himself like this.

To stop himself slamming his own walls up.

So you walked silently, crossing the floor and perching atop of the bale. And after a beat, Lucien joined you.

You watched every movement of his; the way he shifted and tucked a leg beneath himself. He looked uncharacteristically nervous as he angled his body towards you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“I didn’t mean those things I said at the inn.” He cleared his throat. “Really — I’m sorry.”

You shrugged your too-tense shoulders. “It’s whatever.”

“It isn’t whatever.”

“I don’t care—”

“Y/N.” He cut you off, sighing. “Can we just…just drop the act? Both of us?”

You felt yourself go still. Because this was serious — he was serious.

You could see that.

This wasn’t just some half-hearted apology he felt obligated to make. He was trying to…to reach you. To reach further than you would ever usually allow.

You didn’t know how to feel about it — besides your natural inclination to pull away. To run far, far away from the vulnerability.

But you also thought you wanted to hear him out…to see this side he was offering up to you that you’d never seen.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing down. Your voice was small as you said, “Go on, then.”

There was a slight pause of silence, like Lucien was chewing over his words. And you allowed him to do so; allowed him to be the one to take this further when he was ready.

“…We’ve both been pretty awful to each other.” He said after a moment, and you opened your mouth— “Hang on. Let me speak.”

You eased back slightly. Snapped your mouth shut, allowing your response to die in your throat. Nodded.

Lucien swallowed. “But I…I know that however you’ve behaved towards me has just been in response to how I’ve behaved towards you.”

Correct. You shrugged. “You were rude to me on my first day here. I was just…following your lead.”

“I know. And I know that I got you wrong. Completely misjudged you.”

Well — it was about damn time he admitted it. You nodded brusquely.

“I—I regret it. How I’ve behaved towards you.” He stared at you openly — sincerely. “I am sorry, Y/N. I need you to know that. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said that have been entirely out of line. For judging you before I got to know you.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath. “You are…not…who I initially assumed you were.”

Your body seemed to loosen without your direction — like some of that built-up tension was drawn out from his words. And the stubborn, confrontational part of you didn’t want to relent so easily…

But you could see his sincerity. Feel it, even. And you could also see how damn difficult it was for him to sit before you, open and vulnerable. He was making an effort…and one that he didn’t have to make.

Surely you could, also.

So you unfolded your arms. Allowed him to see that you weren’t entirely closed-off. You sat back slightly, leaning on your hands.

“So who am I, then?” You asked. “If I’m not who you initially assumed I was?”

There was a very slight teasing to your tone — an opening.

But Lucien was completely serious as he stared at you and replied, “You’re somebody I’d like as my friend.”

You…you stared back at him, all thoughts and responses momentarily eddying from your mind. You hadn’t expected him to be quite so…honest, you supposed. Real.

Kind.

“…I’ve seen numerous times that you have a kind heart.” He continued, his fingers tearing at pieces of hay as he spoke. “Even on your first week here…I saw how much it upset you that my father disregarded all the hard work that went into the harvest. And I misjudged that. And then when the fire broke out at the hamlet, you were the first one to go straight there and offer your help…even though you knew you’d get in trouble for it. And I’ve seen you around the estate…helping the maids and servants and stable boys without being asked to. Just because you want to.”

You felt your cheeks burn at that. You’d admittedly tried to be subtle in aiding members of staff — people you’d gotten to know and grown fond of — with their work, knowing damn well that Beron would have many an unsavoury thing to say about it. But the fact that Lucien had noticed—

“You’re kind. Compassionate.” He said. He cleared his throat again. “And…and my brother is lucky to have you.”

No, a voice in your head whispered, Dion is lucky to have Willow. But Lucien wasn’t privy to that little hitch in your betrothal. For anyone on the outside looking in, Dion was yours, and you were his.

And a strange, sudden thing arose in you, craving the ability to share such a thing. To lighten the load. To tell someone how lonely you felt.

But you couldn’t.

So you merely dipped your chin. “Thank you.” You said quietly. “I appreciate that.”

Lucien studied you, nodding. “I don’t want there to be any more bad feeling between us. We can be…friends. Right?”

You stared back at him, knowing what he was really communicating. You could be friends — and that meant putting a stop to the fleeting moments of passion between you. Making your relationship well and truly platonic.

And maybe…maybe that was the right thing, all round. Surely a friendship was better, steadier, than high tensions and momentary lust.

You nodded, not entirely sure you believed yourself as you responded, “of course. We can be friends.”

The way Lucien’s shoulders slumped in relief almost had you reaching forward to hug him. But you weren’t sure you were quite there…not yet.

“Great.” He smiled softly. “Friends, then.”

You inclined your head. “Friends.”

He stood up, and his gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he smiled. A warm smile that you never would have imagined him directing at you.

“I’ll leave you in peace.” He said, striding back over to the door. It was clear that he walked away with a weight lifted from his shoulders.

And you watched him. Watched as he slipped out of the barn, the rickety door shutting behind him. And you just sat there…thinking. Reflecting. Feeling.

Friends.

It should have felt way better than it did.

It shouldn’t have left such a sour taste in your mouth.

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Your mood a couple of days later was not even nearly as upbeat.

It had started with a dream. A hazy replaying of a fond memory. You’d dreamt it before, and very few details had changed from the last time—

Linden lay beside you on the shore of a lake. Water droplets still clung to his rich brown skin, his braids. Buttery sunlight glinted off of him, making him look like he glowed.

His head turned to the side, one eye cracking open to peer at you, and he grinned that wicked grin of his. “What are you staring at?”

“You.” You smiled back, propping your head on a hand. “You’re quite pretty, you know.”

He tipped his head back, barking a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides and dark lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Well, thank you. I’m glad you think I’m quite pretty.”

You snorted, reaching out to swipe him. The two of you could joke — gods above, you could, and did more often than not — but it was with utter fondness that you gazed at him.

Your friend. Your confidante. Perhaps even your first love.

So much wiser and older, was Linden. You had only fifty years — as of today — on his two hundred. But you connected with him like nobody else you ever had. He saw you like nobody else ever did.

“Have you had a nice birthday?” He asked you, a soft smile playing on his full lips.

The best birthday ever, in fact. Your family had stopped celebrating birthdays years before — a very mortal thing to do, you knew. And when you’d vaguely mentioned it to Linden in passing…that you simply wanted the day off from training…you hadn’t expected him turning up at the crack of dawn and insisting you get ready for a day spent together.

But the hours of riding on horseback, swimming in Linden’s favourite lake, having a picnic on the shore and basking in the sun…you hadn’t realised how much you’d needed it.

“It’s been the best.” You told him earnestly. “Thank you.”

He grinned, the jesting back in full force as he fluttered his eyelashes. “Of course it has. You had me for company all day.”

“You are such an ass.”

“A pretty one.”

“I take that back. You’re not pretty. Just an ass.”

He gasped, and suddenly he was on his feet, scooping you off the ground. You had barely a chance to make a noise as he took a running jump back into the lake with you, your squeals and laughter swallowed by the water.

You bobbed to the surface, spluttering and coughing around your humour. Linden was quick to join you.

But he wasn’t laughing. Smiling, yes, but — not laughing. He just stared at you.

“You’re never alone, you know.” he said, honesty shining from those deep, dark eyes. “You have me. Always.”

You peered up at him. Felt your heart swell. “You swear it? Always?”

“Always.”

You’d woken with such a gnawing ache, it had been an effort to get up. To join the Lady of Autumn with wedding planning, to talk to the seamstress she’d invited and act like you were interested in the design of your bridal gown. You were a shell, empty, your thoughts on the life you’d once had, the love you’d once had. Linden.

You missed him. Missed him so much, it hurt.

You were lonely.

You’d escaped from the wedding discussions as soon as you reasonably could, your legs carrying you away from the room fast. You needed to walk, to get out of there—

You rounded the corner, your body colliding with someone else’s. Strong hands steadied you, and you looked up to find Dion smiling down at you.

“Where are you heading so fast?” He asked playfully.

You studied his soft, kind features, the warmth that radiated from him. He was your friend. You needed a friend.

“Coming to find you, actually.” You said quickly. “Want to take a walk with me, or something?”

“Sure.” His smile immediately widened. It dropped slightly, though, as he studied you. “…Are you alright?”

“…Yeah. Yes. I just…need some fresh air.”

He didn’t look at all convinced as he stared at you a moment longer. But then he was turning, gesturing to the glass doors at the end of the hall. “Then lead the way, my lady.”

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The two of you walked and walked, the afternoon a fresh bite against your skin. Across the lawns and through the trees, past the stables and outbuildings. You must have covered the entire estate.

Dion did most of the talking. And you…you listened. Quietly strolled beside him as he waxed poetic — about Willow.

You didn’t blame him. You knew your sister was brilliant, and any fool could see how smitten Dion was. But as he regaled you with information of their correspondence, the future plans they’d made, the things they fantasised about…it all became a bit too much.

Certainly didn’t help that deep well of loneliness that was overflowing inside you.

The final straw came as you were making your way back round to the front of the grounds. Just in time to see the familiar mail carrier that came a couple of times a week — a young boy lugging a bag that was far too heavy for him, and yet he always had a bright, vibrant smile on his face.

“Hello, Pen.” Dion smiled broadly at him. “Any letters for us?”

Pen smiled politely at you both, digging into his bag. “One for you, sir.”

You tried not to look disappointed — to not let your shoulders slump too obviously. Willow was the only person who regularly wrote to you since you’d arrived; you’d not heard from Linden once, and it seemed silly to expect to now. But so near to the Festival of Growth, when it was customary to send cards and letters of well wishes—

You so, so wanted to. Even if it were just a crumpled note in his messy scrawl that read “hello”.

You stood silently as Pen handed the letter to Dion, and Dion tipped him handsomely in return. The sight of the boy excitedly scuttling off would usually bring a smile to your face, but you couldn’t manage it…couldn’t force the corners of your lips to inch up.

“Did I mention,” Dion murmured, breaking the wax seal on the parchment, “that your sister has the prettiest writing I’ve ever seen?”

You turned to him, clearing your throat. “She does indeed.”

“Unsurprising, really, with how beautiful she is.” A smile grew on his face as he unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the words. Four long, crammed pages for him to pore over.

You didn’t really feel like sticking around to watch. Not when you hadn’t received a letter yourself.

“I’ll leave you to read that in peace.” You said quietly, turning.

But Dion was stopping you, grabbing your hand gently. “Wait. I—” he cleared his throat. “I know it’s a bit…delicate…and I know you said there’s nobody that you’re interested in romantically, but…are you certain there’s absolutely no one?”

You stared blankly up at him. “Like who?”

“Like…” He studied you, chewing his lip. “…Well, like that Linden, maybe, or—”

“I told you, Dion. I have no one.” True. He couldn’t imagine how true that was.

You knew what his questioning was about — guilt, undoubtedly, that he had somebody and you didn’t. But if you felt his pity on top of everything else, you thought you may just scream.

“But—”

“You should take that back to your room and read it there,” you cut him off, nodding at the letter. “Before anyone catches you with it.”

His shoulders slumped — you had him there. And you’d probably feel bad for it later, for being so dismissive, but…right then, you needed to get away. You needed—

Needed to be away from him, and his feelings for your sister. And maybe that made you awful.

“Go on.” You forced a smile, stepping away. “Read it. Enjoy it.”

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him a chance to say another word as you strode quickly away, your boots crunching on the gravel. You headed straight for the trees without any real sense of direction, knowing you were seconds from breaking, begging your eyes to hold back the tears until you were shielded and hidden.

The first sob ripped from your throat as you pushed through the trees, tripping over roots and running into branches. You didn’t care that they scratched at you. Didn’t care as they seemed to reach out for you like they could sense your aching loneliness.

Tears were freely rolling down your cheeks by the time you’d broken into a run. And as your foot caught on another root sticking out of the ground, and you went stumbling to the forest floor, you gave up entirely.

Your palms broke your fall, becoming cut and grazed and muddy. And you did not care. Didn’t give a shit that your dress was becoming dirty as you scooted back and slumped against a tree.

Linden. You wanted Linden. He cared and loved you and—

Your head fell back against the tree trunk. And you…you gave up.

You cried. Even harder than you’d cried that night on the hunting trip. Even harder than you’d cried the night you’d found out you were arranged to be married to Dion Vanserra. Perhaps harder than you’d ever cried in your life.

You were so damn lonely. So sick of the life that hadn’t even come to pass yet. This was how it was always going to be — you, stuck in a loveless marriage. Knowing that your damn husband and sister wanted each other.

You buried into your hands, the sobs coming faster, harder, wracking through your body. You didn’t know how to make them stop, didn’t know if you even could—

“…Y/N?”

Footsteps slowed to a stop in front of you, a pair of brown boots appearing in your blurred vision. You squeezed your eyes shut, blocking out the looming figure. Buried your face into your hands.

“What the…”

You could do nothing but cry. And cry and cry and cry.

And then there was a pause, a slight beat with what felt like doubt, before the ground was shifting beside you.

Lucien’s scent hit you, pleasant and soothing, but even that wasn’t enough to break you from your state. Your entire body wracked with your sobs as you felt warmth pressing against your side. Lucien’s arm brushed yours as he tucked his legs in.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked. “Why are you—”

“I can’t do this.” The words tumbled from your lips, cutting his words short. “I can’t.”

The unprompted admission was met with a firm wall of silence. You didn’t even really know what you were talking about — just that you felt like you wanted — no, needed — to scream from the top of your voice. Your lungs. Shout words into the void and fucking cry.

“What can’t you do?” Lucien reached out, peeling your hands from your face. “Hey.”

“You don’t get it—nobody gets it—you can’t—”

“Don’t get what, Y/N?”

“I am so alone!”

Even through your tears, you caught the way he blinked at you, his shoulders stiffening.

As if…as if he’d wrongly assumed that all your bravado, your quick-witted responses, the walls you kept up, left no room for something such as loneliness.

But that made him clueless. Because loneliness was a cosmic force in your life. Behind those walls — who you were behind them, who you’d become — was one of the loneliest places in the world. The darkest.

And this seemed to stun Lucien into silence. Seemed to send him tumbling way out of his depth. He was like a deer caught in the headlights as your body heaved and shuddered, your cries both loud and silent, harsh and soft. And you wouldn’t, exactly, have blamed him if he got up and got the hell out of there—

But he just…sat back. Sat against that tree that was currently the only thing propping you up. His warm arm pressed against yours was the only sign that he remained there, at your side.

He just — just let you cry.

Didn’t tell you to suck it up, be stronger. Didn’t try to argue with your admission or your feelings. He just allowed it — all of it.

And so you did, also.

Allowed yourself to be leached of what was probably six-months-worth of emotional buildup. Maybe more. As if someone had turned a tap on in your brain, in your heart, the hurt and the anger and the confusion and the utter despair came pouring out of you. Despair for who you no longer were. Who you were now supposed to be.

And Lucien remained at your side throughout it all. Even as the sky changed over you, the daylight slipping away and turning the broad expanse above you a dull grey colour. Even though the evenings were chilly, and his ass was probably as numb as yours on that damn forest floor. He just sat with you. Let you cry. Let you speak words into the air that you’d stopped yourself from saying so many times.

It felt like it went on for hours. Days. Weeks. At one point, you wondered if you were even capable of stopping. Maybe you’d opened an endless vault of hopelessness, and maybe it was the worst thing you could have done—

But the cries did begin to peter out. Your tears did dry in silvery lines on your cheeks and redness around your eyes. Your body did cease its trembling.

It left you exhausted, your head utterly pounding, your skin freezing cold — but it stopped. And then there was just…silence.

Lucien tucked his knees into his chest; like he was moving just to remind you he was still there. He didn’t force you to speak. Didn’t ask you to look at him. He waited and waited — gave you room to cry some more, if you needed or wanted to.

But you didn’t. You were done-in, utterly spent. And when he seemed to realise that, he angled himself towards you. Pulled himself in tight and rested his chin on his knees.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

You stared back at him for a moment. Just…stared, at the openness in his face. And then you nodded. “I’m okay.”

He, too, nodded. “Did something happen?”

Everything had happened — that was just the problem. Your life was no longer yours. You were no longer yours. That, amongst other things. All of which, you weren’t sure you had the energy to verbalise right then.

So you searched for something, anything, your eyes pinned forward once more.

“…I miss him,” you rasped.

Lucien seemed to pause. “Who?”

“Linden.” You shook your head to yourself, bracing it back against the tree. “I don’t think I realised what a…a constant presence he was in my life, until he no longer was. How much I relied on him. How much he helped me. But not just that — I miss our friendship. He understood me. He…he cared.”

You could feel Lucien’s eyes heavily appraising you. What he was searching for, you didn’t know. Nor did you know if he found it. You were too tired to mask anything at that point.

“You love him.” He said after a moment. Not a question. A statement.

“Yes.” You dipped your head. “I think…I think he was my first love. And not even in a romantic sense, just…a love that I needed. A lifeline.”

Whether it made sense or not, you were past knowing. But Lucien nodded all the same, some strands of hair falling loose from his ponytail and brushing his face. Silence fell once more as the two of you sat there in your thoughts.

The fact that he’d bothered to stick around this long…that he hadn’t run a mile from your emotions…it touched your heart more than he probably realised.

As if you needed any more cause to constantly think about him. To want him.

Your friend.

You cleared your throat. Wiped your eyes. Shifted on the ground. “Sorry — about this.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to you. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“You don’t have to stay here with me—”

“I’m staying.”

Oh. His tone brooked no room for argument. And it made you feel…warm, despite the cold setting into your bones. A kindness you hadn’t been prepared for, friends or not.

“I get it, you know?” He said quietly. “The loneliness.”

You turned to look at him; really look at him. And he stared back.

And you could see it in his eyes — that he did get it. You’d known, since meeting him, that he was a solitary person. Withdrawn. But you’d always assumed it to be by choice. Never…never something that rooted itself as deeply in his life as it did yours.

But you knew from experience that some of the harshest loneliness set in when you were surrounded by people. And Lucien let that show earnestly on his face. That he understood that gnawing disconnect that constantly accompanied your day-to-day life.

You didn’t need to say anything back to him. He got it, and so did you. He got you, and you got him.

You stared at him. He stared back. It seemed like ages passed of you studying one another’s faces. Reading each other’s expressions. Understanding what lay there.

And then Lucien’s brow furrowed slightly, a frown creasing his features — what had caused it, what he’d seen, you weren’t sure.

Nor did you ask, as he reached out a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Or when he leaned in.

You thought, for a moment, that he might kiss you — just like he had before. But instead of his mouth finding yours, he moved up.

His lips pressed a gentle, tender kiss against your forehead. So sweet and caring, you weren’t quite sure what to do with it. You stayed rooted to the spot as he pulled back and stared at you once more.

And he smiled. Warmly. Reassuringly.

And you smiled back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Exhaustion, both physical and mental, dragged you under and allowed you to have the deepest sleep you’d had in a long while.

Your head still ached when you awoke, but your heart felt slightly…lighter. A little more at peace.

The hour was early, the birds only just starting to wake and sing. Darkness and silence still blanketed the estate, but you were wide awake, feeling like you wanted to…to go somewhere. Do something.

You spent a short while just gazing out of the window, watching the sky gradually lighten. Perhaps one of the best times to study the landscape, to watch the colours change and strengthen around you. No chaos, no people zipping back and forth on various different errands. Just stillness–

That was until you caught the subtle movement across the green. A dark shape moving near the barn.

You narrowed your eyes, watching as the figure moved. It took a moment for the growing light to catch the side of their face, and you were able to make out Lucien’s sharp, chiselled features. His lustrous hair that was tied in a knot at the nape of his neck.

You just…watched him. Watched as he opened the door to the stables. Watched his lips move as he spoke a soft greeting to the horses. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself.

Where he was going so early, you couldn’t imagine. You hadn’t been made aware of any plans, anything that would be drawing the Vanserras from the estate for the day. Nobody seemed to be joining him–

You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing as you shrugged on a robe. Pulled on your boots. All you knew was the pleasant knot of anticipation unfurling inside you. You wanted to see him. To talk to him.

You felt excited to. Which wasn’t exactly convenient, but…you didn’t give that much thought as you slipped out of your room and travelled the halls and corridors. Made your way downstairs and outside.

The fresh air bit immediately at your exposed skin, not at all protected by the flimsy robe or your nightgown. But still, you traipsed across the dewy grass, over to the stables, where a very soft, soothing voice came from inside.

You stopped in the doorway, your eyes landing on Lucien where he stood, brushing his mare and talking to her quietly. You smiled, almost didn’t want to interrupt, but as your body knocked against the door, he quickly looked up.

The small smile on your lips turned tentative as you stared at each other. It was certainly something strange to get used to…to adjust to – you and he being civil with each other. Being friends. You folded your arms around yourself, not quite sure how to approach it. Him.

“Hey…” Was all you were able to come up with.

Lucien’s eyes flicked over you. Your robe and nightgown. The boots. He looked like he was trying to bite back a laugh as he replied, “Good morning.”

Your cheeks heated slightly. You felt suddenly…stupid…having rushed down to see him like that. You shifted on your feet, looking around, searching for anything to say.

Your eyes snagged on a strange pile of what seemed to be sacks in the corner. Sacks that were full and bulging. Your brow furrowed. “Where are you heading this early?”

Lucien followed your line of sight, and it surprised you as his cheeks tinged with pink. He cleared his throat, seemed strangely…uncomfortable. “I was just…uh…”

You cocked an eyebrow, your lips twitching. “Is it a secret?”

“No–no.”

Your eyes swept over him. He was definitely blushing. Definitely embarrassed and up to something. Something to do with those sacks in the corner—

“You didn’t rob someone’s house, did you?” You said, amusement clear in your eyes.

Lucien gaped at you. And then snorted. “No, lady, I did not.”

Lady. He’d called you that before, but…it had always sounded somewhat condescending. Like he was mocking you. Now, however, it sounded…different.

It may have had your toes curling a little in your boots.

And that may have been pathetic.

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s in those sacks, then?” You tilted your head.

Lucien’s eyes shot to you before flicking away. He pretended to focus deeply on his horse as he murmured quietly. “Toys. Amongst other things.”

“Toys?”

He shrugged. “It’s not something I usually tell anybody, but…every year, around the Festival of Growth, I visit our poorer villages. Visit some of the families and give them food and supplies and any help they might need. And I give the children toys. I know it’s a bit of a futile effort, but…I can’t stand the thought of them going into a fresh harvest with…with nothing.”

Your entire body had locked up, gone still. All you could do was blink at him. Gawk at him like an idiot.

And such chaotic, inconvenient things were happening inside you at that moment. Things you had no control over, knew you couldn’t fight. Things that felt like light and dancing and the warmth of the sun.

“I try not to shout about it.” Lucien continued, not seeming to notice the preternatural stillness with which you stood as he readied his horse. “I don’t think my father would appreciate me spending his money on such things, but…the Mother knows, he has enough of it to spare. To put a smile on the faces of people in need.”

Gods, he was right. And good. And noble. And what a damn problem, that he was scattering all those misconceptions you’d had about him, like ashes to the wind. He may have misjudged you, but you’d misjudged him, too.

Your breath caught in your throat. It had been so much easier to breathe, to think, when he’d simply been an asshole.

Not a quietly noble male who used his spare time during the festival season to visit poorer families and give gifts to children.

Inconvenient, indeed.

You blinked out of your thoughts, clearing your throat. “You do that every year? Without any help?”

Lucien nodded matter-of-factly. “Just me. I don’t mind, though. I enjoy it.”

“Can I come? I mean – can I help?”

The words had just fallen from your lips. And you thought that he blinked at you, then, like it was the last thing he’d expected you to say.

“You want to come?” He asked.

Gods, yes, you did. You nodded. “I’d love to.”

He stared at you a moment longer. And then, just slightly, his lips seemed to curve upwards. He looked like he was trying to tamp down on the smile as he inclined his head.

“Go get dressed, then. I’ll prepare your horse.” He said. “...Be sure to wear something warmer than that little nightgown.”

Your cheeks burned, but you rolled your eyes, turning away from him. Excitement coursed through you, beautiful and airy – wondrous. You moved so fast, you almost fell over when you stopped abruptly in the doorway, looking over your shoulder.

Lucien was still watching you. His head fell into a tilt as your eyes met. “Yes?”

“...Thank you for yesterday.” You said. “I mean it.”

You didn’t wait to see how he’d respond. You turned, hurrying back towards the house – hot all over, despite the cold. Wide awake, despite the hour.

You felt…alive.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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