#wine and dine week day 4

[crossnamara]

Day 4 - Fantasy

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?

Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.

She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.

“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.

“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.

It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.

You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.

“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”

“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.

“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”

But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.

You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.

You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.

Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.

You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.

“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.

“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”

“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”

“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.

“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.

“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.

“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.

You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.

Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.

“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.

“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”

He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.

“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.

“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.

You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.

Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.

Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.

You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.

You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.

He’s building you a home.

“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.

“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?

“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.

You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.

Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.

The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.

As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.

He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.

“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.

“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.

Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”

You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.

“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.

“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.

“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.

For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.

“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.

“Of course, my love.”

He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.

If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here

[mactavishwritings]

Anything for my Bunny

Millionaire!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Trophy Wife!reader (fem reader)

alt universe where Simon isn't military, but the CEO of a high-tech company

fluff mainly with some sexual implications

You always had a theory as a young girl. You had decided at a young age that you were going to get what you wanted no matter what and your theory was that there was a way to go through life, getting everything you wanted one way or another. You got your education, a degree in English, deciding that you were going to move to England to pursue writing novels in beautiful cafes all day. That dream however died when you ended up working at the cafes instead of being the mysterious patron who sat at a table by the window, typing away on her laptop.

Your wish slowly began to come true when you met Simon Riley. When you met him, he was a handsome businessman who was in a bit of a rush. The other girls at the cafe called him 'Mr. Handsome Latte', standing around the corner, as you took his order. He had a reputation for being quiet or on an important-sounding phone call. You were never one to make assumptions, but there were a few you had about this mysterious businessman.

When he came in that day, he was uncharacteristically wearing a pair of athletic trainers and a plain grey shirt. He had his phone in his hand, not looking up at you until he got up to the register. "Hi welcome in. What can I get started for you today?" You started the conversation like you would with any other customer. "Hi. Can I just get my usual hot latte with an extra shot of espresso?" You nodded, taking his order down. "Sounds good. $4 then." You punched the latte into the register, waiting for him to pay for the drink when he suddenly spoke. "When do you get off today?" You stopped and looked up at the man. "Asks the name of a man whose name I do not know." You fired back, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Simon, you?" He paid for his drink and followed you down as you began to make his drink. "(Y/N)." You smiled, focusing back on his drink. "Well... Now that you know my name, what time do you get off today?" He persisted so you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Okay fine. I get off at 6. Why do you want to know, Simon?" You turned your back to steam his milk but turned your head in his direction to let him know that you were still listening. "I'm picking you up and we're going out." He stated simply, causing you to whip your head around. "Excuse me? Why do you think this will happen?" You glared slightly. "Simple. I want to get to know you and I always get what I want." Damn...

-

You went out with him, but not that night. You played with him a bit before he finally convinced you to go out with him. You told him that he was going to have to work hard for what he wanted. You weren't easy to get and he would have to earn your affection. That's when you begin to receive gifts from Simon. All of the girls at work demanded to know why you turned him down or when you were going out with him; boasting about how you couldn't turn that type of man down. So, after receiving the fifth bundle of roses at your apartment, you finally called the number attached to the note on the flowers. He sounded satisfied when he heard your voice. "I told you; I get what I want."

He had completely wined and dined you that night, sweeping you off your feet. The night had taken your breath away and you felt like a teenage girl. So, when he asked you to go out again, you didn't hesitate this time. You began to spend more time with the man, feeling yourself fall slowly in love with who he was as a person. You learned that yes, he was on important calls because he owns one of the tech's world biggest companies. He didn't like talking about work with you, stating that he would rather shut that stuff away when with you, not wanting to interrupt your time together. It had been 3 weeks of seeing each other when he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had told him that you had been waiting for him to ask you, immediately saying yes.

-

After a year of dating, he asked you to move in. You were excited because he had a big bathtub and that was enough for you. You were still working at the time and while he never said it out loud, you could tell he wanted you to quit and let him take care of the financials. You wanted to still be independent. It was year 2 when Simon came to you with an offer. You would quit your job and he would set up a side account for you where he would give you a 'paycheck'. You would act as an assistant of sorts for him; meaning that you would bring him lunch every day. You agreed, seeing how much it meant to him.

Year 3 was when he proposed. You had gotten comfortable in the giant mansion that you called home. The staff that occupied as well made you uncomfortable at first, but you slowly warmed up to them. Especially when they told stories about Simon, both embarrassing and sweet. Most of them have been with Simon since he started his company, staying with him through all the frustration and triumph he has seen.

You were starting to get close to some of the staff, the main person who you interacted with was a woman named Nancy. Simon instructed her to help you with whatever you needed the first night you stayed the night and you two have been side by side ever since. She became like a second mother for you, helping with sickness and emotions. She knew the proposal was coming long before you did.

Now 5 years later, you couldn’t be more happy. Simon gave you everything you could’ve ever wanted. He often was gone on work trips but always made sure he brought home something for you. Often times, small trinkets. Keychains, figurines, or cups. You loved every one and kept them on your desk at home. You hadn’t given up on your writing dream just because you had become Mrs. Riley. It was one of your few conditions to the marriage. You wanted something separate from Simon and he respected it completely.

As a 5th wedding anniversary present, Simon bought you a new house near the beach and you spent most of your days sitting in your office, staring out of the ceiling-to-floor windows. You were sitting in your desk chair, a cup of coffee in your hands, robe hanging off your shoulder. Simon had been sent away on a work trip and you missed him dearly. He didn’t know when he was going to come back and it killed you, having to wait without a date. He typically knew when he was going to be back, but he had a big launch coming soon and he needed to perfect everything. Nancy had asked you if you were hungry for breakfast and you had told her that you weren’t feeling up to eating. Lately, you seemed to have lost your appetite and you weren't sure why. You felt fine otherwise, figuring that it was just from the stress of Simon not being home.

You pulled your robe back over your shoulder and sighed. Reaching for your phone, there had been no new texts from Simon. You hadn't heard from him all day yesterday and you were getting worried. You rubbed your forehead and felt your stomach churn. You couldn't help but think the worst. You got lost in your head, staring out at the rising sun and crashing waves when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You gasped and looked up, seeing Simon smiling softly at you. "Si! You scared me!" You felt his hand ride up to rub the back of your neck up to your hair. He leaned down to kiss your forehead softly. "My apologies, love." He came around the front of your chair and knelt down to kiss your exposed knee. "I hadn't heard from you yesterday and I didn't know if you were okay." You pouted, running your fingers through his hair.

"Good thing I got you this then. As an apology." He lifted up a small bag and you giggled, taking it in your lap. You pulled out a box and opened it to reveal a very dainty pearl necklace. You gasped and immediately demanded for him to put it on you. Simon placed it on you and locked the clasp, kissing your cheek before standing in front of you. "I have to make up for lost time. Come."

-

That night, after you finished catching up, you both had showered and lounged around all day. For dinner, you two sat at the dining table as you requested, having to remind Simon that you could, in fact, feed yourself. Simon could barely keep his hands to himself as he told you about this recent trip. He told you about how well the launch went and how his new secretary was a "complete psycho who clearly lied during the interview". You nodded along to his words, playing with his fingers as he spoke.

"By the way, in 2 weeks, we're hosting a party here." Simon casually told you and you smacked his arm. "How am I going to prep in only 2 weeks!" You whined, already grabbing your notebook to plan. "I know, my love. It just came up, I only just agreed to it two days ago." He kissed your hand apologetically and smiled. You rolled your eyes, already forgetting your fake anger. “It's fine. I've got a reputation for being the best hostess!" Simon nodded along to your words, smiling as if he had hearts in his eyes. "Whatever you need, I'll leave my card for you. You know the pin." You giggled, knowing that the pin was your birthday.

You picked up the empty plates and walked them to the kitchen, smiling when you felt Simon wrap himself around you from behind. "Missed you...my hand was barely enough.." Simon whispered in your ear, gently kissing your neck. You gasped, feeling his hands slip under your slip dress. "Si! Someone could walk in!" You giggled as he lifted you up onto the countertop. "Oh, Mrs. Riley...I paid for this house. I will enjoy my dessert in my kitchen." He smirked as he knelt between your legs.

-

i loved this idea and would love to expand on it! so feel free to send asks about this <3

[linos-luna]

Ask and you shall receive 💕

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My Queen (Pt. 2) 🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Warning: Yandere, 18+, delusions, Stockholm Syndrome?, Soft Sex, drinking

(Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt 4)

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Another two weeks has passed. Your shoulder was finally healing but still sore. A weak point, if you may. You felt that the longer you were here, the more Hyunjin’s mind slipped into this delusion. And while you were technically his prisoner, it wasn’t all that bad…

Hyunjin was able to gather more of your items from your house as the days went by. He would also bring you new things as gifts. You wondered if any friends or family had realized you were missing. Were they even looking?

Whatever was happening in the outside world, it didn’t matter to Hyunjin. He was too busy with you. Loving you. Serving you. Spoiling you.

He would barely let you walk, opting to carry you bridal style anywhere he went. He dressed you everyday and would fix your hair. If you didn’t comply, he’d be angry but try and control himself to not hurt you. It was hard sometimes. He was very unpredictable and some days were like walking on eggshells.

A cheesy rom com played as you sat on the couch. A blanket rested on your lap as you waited for the man to finish cooking. You weren’t paying much attention to the movie and fiddled your thumbs on your lap.

Hyunjin soon came out of the kitchen, setting some dishes on the dining table.

“Dinner is ready, my love.” He said with a smile while taking your hand.

At the table you see a tasty steak dinner. You didn’t know he could make something like that. But maybe he looked it up online.

Hyunjin pulled your hair behind your shoulders before sitting next to you.

The steak was cut up in small pieces and vegetables nicely aligned with the rice. A glass of wine was there as well, nearly halfway full. Seemed like a lot.

You were about to take the fork to begin before Hyunjin stopped you.

“How about I feed you today.” He said while taking the fork. “A queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“I… I can feed myself…”

“My love, I insist.” He took your hand and looked at you with desperation.

He hasn’t been so serious about feeding you before so this was unsettling. But the least you could do was feed yourself.

“No… Hyunjin… I don’t—”

Hyunjin suddenly squeezed your hand tight. And it was very tight. The grip had you whimpering as your finger bones were squeezed together. Needless to say that it hurt a lot.

“I’ll feed you tonight.” He said sternly, suddenly getting very serious.

“H-hurts… you’re hurting me…” you whimpered and he quickly let go. Almost as soon as he went serious, he was back to himself.

“I’m sorry, darling!” He pleaded while kissing your hand. “I must’ve hurt your frail bones!”

You sighed as he began to feed you. The food was actually delicious and you ate the whole thing.

Hyunjin took a sip of the wine before holding it to your lips.

You were about to grab it when he slapped your hand away and tilted the glass for you to drink. You weren’t exactly fond of red wine but if you didn’t drink, it would just get everywhere.

The bitter drink went down your throat fairly quick and he was already preparing another glass.

“One is okay…” you said as you felt your cheeks getting warm. It must be a strong wine as you were already feeling buzzed.

“Nonsense.” He said before putting it to your lips again.

Drinking it again definitely left you buzzed and your mind was getting a little fuzzy. Nothing too crazy but you definitely weren’t sober.

“Was it good?” He asked. “I only buy the best for you.”

You nodded and he smiled with joy as he helped you to your feet.

“Um… Jinnie?” You had an idea, not sure how it would go.

“Yes, darling?” He replied quickly.

“I… I was wanting to um…” you looked down, feigning shyness. “N-never mind…”

He instantly got on his knees before you and held your hand. “No what is it, my love? Anything! I’ll do it!”

“I just… I wanted…” you paused for a moment, hoping that if you use his lingo, perhaps it’ll entice him more. “I want to… take a stroll… around the castle…”

“Why of course!” Hyunjin said before standing up and holding your cheek. “My queen needs her activities, right.”

You nodded as he took your hand and led you to the bedroom.

He got you a coat and held your hand as he started walking you from the room to the kitchen.

“Um… how about outside?”

“Outside?” He paused. “But we are strolling your castle.”

“But… but I wish to see the garden!” You said quickly. “Surely there is a lovely garden. All castles have one. You know?”

“Of course!” He blinked as if coming out of a thought. “I will take you there immediately!”

After putting on your shoes, he took you out to the backyard.

Now his backyard wasn’t anything special; in fact, it was quite small. There wasn’t really much of a garden either.

There was a small tree to a side and on rose bush. Trees from the neighbor’s yard carried over into his, leaving some apples hanging on the side. Other than that, the grass was almost dead.

“Wow.” You said awkwardly while looking around.

“I’m glad you like it, my love.” He said while kissing your cheek. “I was sure to fill it with the most beautiful flowers just for you.”

He motioned in a direction that had nothing, only dirt where a flowerbed could be.

“Hyunjin… there’s nothing there…”

“Nothing there?! Of course there is!” He chuckled and went to the area, reaching out as if he plucked a real flower. “I was sure to plant the prettiest flowers. The castle garden must be as gorgeous as you.”

You laughed nervously as he put the nonexistent flower in your hair and admired you.

“I-it’s… a lovely pink…”

“Pink?! My dear, that is purple.” He laughed. “The wine must be messing with your head.”

Hyunjin continued to walk you around, avoiding some spots as if plants were actually there. It worried you a bit.

“Jinnie… may I see the garden up front?”

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“Because someone will try and steal you away!” He said frantically.

You stepped back for a moment as he calmed himself.

“It’s getting dark.” He said while looking up to the sky. “Let’s go in.”

After settling down, you were in a nightgown. You waited for him to come back from turning out the lights in the kitchen and living room. He then came in with another two glasses of wine. Both half full.

You were still a bit buzzed from the last two glasses and looked at him confused as he raised it to your lips.

“Jinnie… haven’t I had enough?”

“Tonight is special.” He smiled while tilting it, making you gulp it down pretty fast.

With that, you were definitely past buzzed. Tipsy is more like it. Your mind was a little fuzzy and vision delayed. You only looked at him with drooping eyelids.

He gave you a kiss on the lips before pushing you on your back. For a moment, you snapped back into reality and saw him looking down at you. And yet… you had no ambition to move.

“Let me please you tonight.” He said while holding your cheek. “I promise to be gentle.”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Let me worship your body as a queen deserves.” He added while rubbing your side and delivering another kiss to your lips. But this one was deep and filled with more passion.

As he kissed you, you found yourself doing the unthinkable. Kissing him back. Surely it must be the alcohol that was clouding your judgement!

Hyunjin loved when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss and making soft moans.

His hands were under your nightgown, lightly groping you as he pushed his tongue through. And you? Well you didn’t fight it.

“Please, my love.” He whispered against your lips. “Let me love you…”

His hand was already at the waistband of your panties and you could feel yourself getting aroused by his touch.

“Okay…”

“Hm?” Hyunjin paused, holding your cheeks while looking into your eyes.

“You can….”

“I can show you my love?”

“Yes….”

You couldn’t believe what you were saying. Your mouth must have a mind of its own! No way! Surely you weren’t in the right mind! Right?

“Thank you my love!” He said before continuing to make out with you.

“My dear queen…” he gasped between kisses to your neck. “No one is as fair as you… nor as beautiful…”

You blushed. His complements always felt good. Hyunjin kissed your breasts and nipples over the nightgown and slowly lowered your underwear.

They were already wet. Very wet actually. He quickly stripped of his pants and boxers, already noticeably hard.

He teased your hole with his cock making you gasp softly before he slowly entered.

A fairly tight fit, but felt so good.

“My queen…” he grunted as he started to thrust. “So tight…”

You moaned at even the slightest of moment and it got more and more breathy as he continued.

He held your wrists above your head with one hand while holding you cheek with the other. He passionately kissed you, swallowing your noises as he made love to you.

The feeling was amazing. So warm and comforting. For a moment you forgot about everything in the world and the situation at hand. What situation? He was loving you. Taking care of you and giving constant praise,

It all accumulated to when you had your euphoric orgasm. One that you hadn’t had in a long time.

After coming himself, Hyunjin pulled out and gave a few more sloppy kisses before resting next to you.

You only stared up at the ceiling. Where are you? What is happening?

“I need to use the restroom, darling.” He said while walking out. “Ill be right back.”

When hearing the bathroom door close, you stumbled to your feet and made your way to the front room.

Your mind was still clouded but it was clear enough to see that the front door was unlocked. Perfect.

You went to it. Excited for the taste of freedom but then you paused.

Your hand laid on the doorknob but you did nothing.

Open it! The voice of reason pleaded. But you didn’t.

He’ll be devastated if you leave! Right? Or is it that… you wanted to stay…?

No way! That’s crazy talk! Why would you want to stay with the man who kidnapped you?? The man that took you from your life! … Your boring and mundane life… A life where no one cherishes you like he does…

You shake your head at the absurd internal arguments and twist the knob. Before you do anything, you hear Hyunjin call out to you.

“My love?! Where are you?!”

Your heart was pounding. It’s now or never.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” Hyunjin chuckled as he entered the kitchen.

And there you were. Leaning against the stove, away from the now locked front door.

“I just… wanted a snack…”

[mentally-gone002]

is it too early to love you? - part 5

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, page 6, part 7

summary: reader and spencer build ikea on the floor. they both know there’s something there, but don’t know or won’t say what it is. 

a/n: okay… can i just be honest and say idfk what i was doing but i like it??? i feel like my tone while writing this one changed a bit, but idc (i do but idk how to fix it😭) so pls enjoy I ALSO LOVE UR COMMENTS THEY KEEP ME SANE AND MAKE ME SUPER HAPPY 

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i went without complete dish sets and whatever else i’d written down that i needed to replace for two weeks. because unfortunately the FBI isn’t like the normal nine-to-five. i had to work through a wall of paperwork, and three cases spread across the country before i was able to step foot in ikea.

i felt bad while looking at and then eventually bringing home various things because i didn’t tell spencer i was going. but i felt like i had to go alone, because it was my apartment and all. and i didn’t want him to feel like he had to look after me.

so now i found myself sitting on the floor in my ‘lazy clothes’ which was just sweatpants and a tank-top, drinking my second glass of wine and blasting some upbeat music with a half assembled tv stand in front of me. i was flipping through the instruction book and sorting out all of the pieces i needed so that it wouldn’t fall apart either on me or in the middle of the night. my healing foot that was completely painless after the glass incident moved along with the rhythm of a song.

my trip to ikea was quite successful. i found some pretty blue dishes and really nice drinking glasses that i’d already washed and put away. they looked better than all the other dishes i’d had before, so maybe james going on a rampage was a really, really awful blessing in disguise.

i still felt bad that i didn’t bring spencer along.

halfway through taking in a mouthful of wine i was brought out of my thoughts by a series of knocks on my front door. i swallowed the wine and walked to the door. 

“hey! what’re you doing here?” i swiped a drip of wine from the corner of my smile-curled lips while looking up at spencer. 

he studied me before answering, “you weren’t answering your phone.” 

i opened my mouth as if to say ‘oh’ while glancing back to my phone as it sat on the counter. “sorry, i had the ringer off. do you wanna come in?” i asked, directing my eyes back to him. 

he nodded and i opened the door wider. his face changed as he saw the disarray of my apartment. “you went to ikea without me?” he asked.

i closed my door with a smile. “yeah, this morning. sorry i didn’t call you, i just wanted to go on my own.” i walked past where he was standing beside my dining table to turn down my music slightly prior to sitting back on the floor. “do you want some wine?” i pointed at my almost empty glass. 

he shook his head. his eyes slowly looked over all of the things on the floor, and how i had my couch pushed against a wall to make the space seem bigger, and then me. “have you been doing this all day?” 

i shook my head, finishing my wine before answering. “no. well… i got up at eight and then came home at noon, struggled to get everything inside for an hour and then went to get food with penelope which meant i got home around six, so no.” the extent of my day tumbled out of my mouth. the recitation was more for me, just backtracking over everything i did just to get the answer right for spencer. “why?” i pushed some hair from my face.

spencer looked at me with an amused smile and came to sit beside me. “you look happy.” 

my hand reached for a piece of what was the next step in the instructions on the floor beside me. i worked on the furniture while i replied to spencer. “i always get really excited when i get new furniture.” i quickly followed the rest of the instructions on the page before turning all of my attention to spencer. “what did you get up to today?” 

he shrugged. “nothing half as interesting as what you did.” his eyes looked over my face a few times. i gave him a look and silently told him to just tell me. he cleared his throat. “i went to the park and played chess, walked around to a few bookstores, drank six cups of coffee and then came here because you wouldn’t answer my calls.” his body leaned closer to mine as he talked about my unanswered calls. 

i giggled. “i already said i’m sorry for that.” my heartbeat sped up at his proximity. it was just the wine… i think. “also, six cups of coffee? on a weekend?”

spencer nodded. “i like coffee.” 

“oh, trust me, i know.” i smiled. “are you sure you don’t want some wine?” i asked, slowly getting up to refill my glass. “it’s that kind rossi broke out for us… a while ago.” i wiggled my eyebrows a little, holding the almost half full bottle up for him to see. 

he didn’t answer immediately, meaning he was contemplating, before he inevitably nodded. 

i smiled and went to grab another glass and fill it up. he joined me in the kitchen, gently taking the glass from me while i poured more for myself. “i’m glad you’re here.” i took a sip. 

“are you?” he asked. 

i nodded, bumping into his side as a way to tease but i stayed leaning into him. “yeah. your company isn’t too bad.” a smile spread over my lips that i hid with my wine glass. 

spencer huffed a short laugh. “do you want help finishing that?” he was referring to the tv stand on the floor. 

i stared at it, tilting my head this way and that before i answered, “yeah.” 

spencer nodded and we went back to sit on the floor together. with his help we got it done in less time than it took for me to construct the first half. granted, i was doing more dancing and procrastination when it was just me. 

after it was done i laid down on the floor, knees up while i stared at the ceiling. my eyes moved to look back at spencer as he smiled down at me. “what?” 

“nothing.” he didn’t look away like he usually would. he kept on staring like he did that night i was in his hotel room. 

i smiled giddily. “in case you need a picture.” i slid his phone to him in the space between us. 

he shook his head. “i have an eidetic memory.”  

i propped myself up on my elbows. “i thought that only worked with words.” 

“it’s works with images too.” spencer told me, reaching out a hand to move a piece of hair out of my face. 

i didn’t breathe while he was doing that. i felt his finger tips on my face and it made me feel warm. “how long do you remember stuff for?” 

“the specifics kind of fade after a few minutes but i still remember whatever i saw.” his voice grew softer as he spoke. 

it got quiet between us again. 

i don’t mind the silence. it leaves me with a better ability to focus on his features. like his deep eyes. his brown hair that framed his face perfectly. the blue sweater that just be new.

i looked away in a rush, trying to push the observations out of my head. 

i can’t be doing this to myself. why am i not allowing myself to feel for him?

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing i just… i have a lot on my mind.” 

“like what?” he was trying to help, so why did i want to push him away right now? i’ve never thought like this before. 

i inhaled deeply. “why did you kiss me?” my eyes found his and he looked like a deer in the headlights. 

he looked away for a second before looking back. “i’m sorry i did that.” 

“i’m not asking for an apology,” i said. “i’m asking why you kissed me.” i wasn’t trying to sound rude or anything other than curious, and yet he seemed like he wanted to cry. 

spencer cleared his throat. “i did it because i’ve wanted to for three years… and i knew that if i didn’t do it that night, i wouldn’t have another chance to.” 

i want to say that explains the last three years, but i can’t. he was too good at hiding his feelings for me to have even had a hunch about it until four weeks ago. 

i didn’t even recognize my own feelings for spencer until four weeks ago… and i’m still not entirely sure what those feelings i have are. 

i only nodded and looked away. i sat up all the way and moved to sit criss-cross right against him, leaning into him, head on his shoulder. 

i wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, and spencer was okay with that. he returned the touch with an arm around my back. his hand gently grasped my waist. his head rested on the top of mine. 

i closed my eyes. he was really warm. and he was right there. “is it too early to love you?” i breathed. i could barely hear myself. the chances of spencer hearing was slim, but his hand on my waist gave a gentle squeeze. 

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 4 - Illicit Affairs

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

Previous l Next

Masterlist

Summary: Tired of heartbreak and tiptoeing on eggshells, you intend to take matters into your own hands until new things come to light. A long overdue conversation of the past and hopes for the future once you let your guard down and show Steve where your loyalty lies.

18+ Minors DNI!

CW: Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Angst. Pining. Spousal abuse (mental and physical). Nefarious deeds and scheming. Smut-ish (you'll see).

WC: 8.8K

If Nik had come home the previous night, you hadn't heard. Your body and mind were so worn down with exhaustion, sleep pulled you under for its sweet embrace without any protest. It was the first time in weeks you had a full night's rest.

With the new day, came a renewed sense of hope.

Hope floundered momentarily as you stared at yourself, a shell of the woman you used to be all because of him.

It was unfortunately unusually warm, but your husband's brutal touch left you no alternative when you woke up to fresh bruises yet again, opting for a turtleneck to cover the ugly blemishes.

You couldn't let him win. He would not take away the one thing in your life that you yearned for, willing to have no matter what the cost.

A plan was carefully laid out in the recesses of your mind that you were about to set into motion.

Lunch arrangements were made with your father almost every Sunday. You could decompress and relax in your childhood home without worry or fear of being scrutinized for your every move.

“Daddy?” Your voice carried down the hall as you closed the door behind you.

“Hey kiddo!” Shouting back, rounding the corner, meeting you halfway to pull you in for a warm hug, kissing the top of your head as you melted into his chest.

“Thought we'd do lunch in the sunroom. It's too nice to be cooped up in a stuffy dining room.” Briefly letting you go to pull you into his side.

“Sounds nice. What're we having?” You beamed up at him as he led you to the table. He'd been getting more gray hairs in the past few months, most likely from stress and the pressures of the business, something the two of you rarely talked about. It weighed on him more heavily as he aged.

“They whipped up some Bolognese pasta with a nice Greek salad and of course, wine from your Nonna's vineyard.” His smile widened, knowing it was your favorite.

“Sounds amazing!” You kissed his cheek and took your seat across from him.

The food was brought out as you chatted about mundane things, such as how the gallery was doing. You told him how the wedding went, leaving out the rendezvous with Steve but letting him know that he and Nik did have a few unsavory words.

“That man is such an arrogant hothead.” Sighing as he sipped his wine, looking as annoyed as you were at the behavior. You took it as your chance to speak up.

“Daddy, I know we don't talk about business, at all, but Nik is ruining everything you've built. You're right, he is that arrogant hothead and does nothing unless it's for himself.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, carefully thinking of your next words watching as your fathers' eyes drift to the table, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

This was it. Sow the seeds of doubt. Let it sprout and spread. Maybe your father would finally see the kind of man Nik had become was not at all what was needed for business or for his daughter.

“I'm not happy. I haven't been happy for a long time.” You solemnly spoke, sighing and melting further into your chair as he reached across the table taking your hand in his.

“I know.” Your head shot up at his admittance. He quickly looked away, unable to meet your narrowed gaze.

“What do you mean you know?” Raising your voice slightly, pulling your hand away, brows furrowed with confusion.

“Your dear old dad isn't blind. I know you aren't happy. And I also know about his side gigs.” Letting a sigh escape him as his shoulders slumped.

Your confusion quickly bubbles into anger. Has he known all this time and turned a blind eye? For what? An alliance with a family that brought him a little more power, treating you like nothing but a pawn in the process.

When your father first brought up the prospect all those years ago, you were hesitant. A marriage to this family would secure his hold in Chicago for the foreseeable future but he assured you then that he wouldn't pressure you into a marriage with someone you didn't know.

When you met Nik for the first time, he immediately caught your attention. Confident, charming and handsome. Not at all what the rumors had suggested.

He swept you entirely off of your feet while impressing your father, agreeing to marry him after only six months of dating. It seemed like you were finally getting your fairytale ending, even if it was with the wrong prince.

He had completely fooled you both, conducting double dealings behind your father's back before the honeymoon phase had ended.

“You know?” Shaking your head, with disbelief. “And you've stood by and done nothing?” Practically shouting at him as you swiftly stood, almost knocking your chair over in the process.

“Y/N, it's complicated. If I knew then, I would have never asked you to get involved. I'm sorry.” He replied, suddenly slamming his fists down on the table, as the fine china and glasses rattled. “Goddamnit!”

His sudden outburst made you jump and flinch away from him. Your knee jerk reaction didn’t go unnoticed, as he quickly stood, rounding the table.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He spoke softly, coming to reach out with open arms but you quickly sidestepped him putting some distance between the two of you.

“I need to go. I can't be here right now.” Quickly shooting down the hall and back out the door as your father called out your name.

Your driver was leaned up against the car, straightening up and tossing the smoke he held between his fingers to the ground when he saw you rush out.

“Miss?” He asked when he saw the burning fury etched across your face.

“Take me home.”

He nodded, opening the door without another word.

Feeling utterly alone in this, that hopelessness began to edge its way back in. You took a deep breath as the car sped off, your phone continuously vibrating in your lap; “Dad” popping up each time, until you finally turned it off.

You couldn't ignore him forever but right now some distance would do you some good.

It was quiet when you arrived back home, but Nik’s car was outside.

You didn't bother looking around for him, heading straight up to your room. A million things going through your mind at once, so lost in thought you didn't notice the door to your bedroom sat ajar. You never left it open, typically locking it before leaving for the day.

You barged in, grimacing to yourself when you spotted him sitting on your bed, stopping you dead in your tracks. He lifted a bottle of whiskey to his lips, looking out the window.

He was more than disheveled, hair unkempt, shirt unbuttoned and his tie undone, hanging haphazardly around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Asking while maintaining your distance, eyeing him warily.

He finally turned his head, eyes glassy and bloodshot, taking another sip from the bottle. Some liquid dripped down his chin as he finished, brushing it away with the back of his hand. It was then you noticed his bloody and bruised knuckles. An instance wave of worry rushed over you.

“Have a good lunch?” Falling from his lips, a little slurred, in a mocking tone.

Ignoring his question, you quickly surveyed the room. It was in complete disarray, with clothes and other belongings strewn about laying on the floor and bed. He’d shattered the mirror above your vanity, a smear of blood across the spiderwebbed reflection.

“What the hell are you doing in here, Nik? We had an agreement.” You huffed out, his presence only worsening your already perturbed mood. You knew you shouldn’t aggravate him further, but it was too late.

He swiftly stood, although stumbling just a bit, righting himself with a deep chuckle, confirming he was indeed drunk.

“Agreement?” He snarled, lip curling as his eyes trailed down your body. “I think we both know that little agreement is done.” Swaying as he took a heavy step toward you, making you take a step back.

“Oh, kitten, come on now. You can't be that stupid?” Taking two more steps, as you followed suit, your back hitting the wall behind you. No where else to go, you watched, eyes going wide, as he eased forward.

His large frame towered over you, placing one hand on the wall caging you in and leaning down into your space as he spoke. His whiskey laced breath fanned over you, making you wince at the smell.

“You're not going to make me look like a fool and get away with it.” He spat, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for anything. “You're my fucking wife. My fucking property.”

Sliding his hand down, grabbing your hip, pulling you sloppily into him leaving you no choice but to take hold of his shirt to steady yourself, opening your eyes in time to see his face lean in, his lips pressing forcefully into yours.

His tongue darted out, trying to prod your lips open but you kept your mouth clamped shut, pushing him back as you yelled “Get off of me, you fucking asshole!”

He stared at you for a moment, almost bewildered before taking another long swig on unsteady legs.

You breathed in a small sigh of relief, as he stalked away, but your reprieve was quickly dashed when he stopped short of the door, glaring back at you.

“Fucking whore!” He shouted, raising the whiskey bottle, drawing back, and throwing it with all the force he could muster directly toward you.

You screamed; ducking as it shattered above your head, the shards raining down, hitting your body and littering the floor.

“You deserve worse, you ungrateful bitch.” He laughed, walking out to leave you to deal with the aftermath.

Hurriedly, you rushed to the door slamming it shut, but it was only then you noticed the lock was broken.

It was as if Nik had been looking for something, tearing your room apart.

It dawned on you then. The dress. The closet was in shambles, much like your room. After looking around, rummaging through things on the floor you realized it wasn't there.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you walked back out into the room, looking at the destruction more closely, eyes suddenly homing in on the smoldering fireplace in the far corner.

You caught sight of a small piece of wine-colored fabric sitting within, the rest of what Nik had deemed such an offending piece of clothing had been reduced to mere ashes.

Collapsing in on yourself, your knees suddenly hit the floor.

That feeling of hope from this morning was fading fast, as you knelt there, tears spilling hot over your cheeks as your body began to tremble.

If you were going to make it out of this alive, you had to be smart.

You wiped your cheeks, with shaky fingers as you stood. No more feeling sorry for yourself. You were done crying and being told what to do. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Between cleaning up the room, along with yourself you worked late into the night.

A chair was pushed up under the handle, bracing the door in case he tried to come back in but thankfully he had slept the rest of day leaving late that night.

Still on edge, sleep eluded you until the early hours of morning. It wasn't until the sunlight streaming through your shades that you woke, reaching for your phone, gasping as you jumped out of bed, you'd slept straight through your alarm.

You had numerous missed calls from Abigail, along with your father who was just as stubborn as you. He wouldn't give up, but the wounds were still too fresh for you to speak with him.

You typed out a quick text to him, hoping it would buy you a little more time before you had to deal with him. Then it was a call to a very relieved Abigail before getting ready.

Once you finally stepped into your office, after Abigail had given you the rundown for the day, you were met with a fresh bouquet of dark red roses atop your desk, much like the color of the dress he had gifted you.

“Those arrived first thing this morning.” She commented before excusing herself.

A note was nestled among the petals just like all the ones that had come before, except this time you were hesitant, leaving it there to jump into work instead.

The day flew by, playing catch up from the late morning, as the sun finally sits low, throwing its golden hues across the city announcing its departure and closing the day.

You lean back in your chair, stretching as Abigail throws you a quick goodbye. Tossing your glasses to the side, eyes now tired from overuse, the note finally caught your attention once more.

You plucked it from its place, tearing it open with a long exhale before flipping it over to read.

I'm sorry.

Always Yours, S.H.

He had nothing to apologize for.

The thought that he must have conveyed the worry and fear from being caught as a rejection passed through your mind, but nothing could be further from the truth.

You had to get in touch with him to make your intentions known.

It came to you suddenly; you keep a log of anyone who buys from the gallery. A list of clients for important events or the occasional reminders that go out for new exhibits.

You immediately opened your laptop and pulled up those important contacts, opening the “H” section with a few clicks.

“Bingo.” You whispered out. Abigail had taken his information the day he had bought the painting. Your hand reached for your cell, but you stopped. It could be monitored too easily.

You reached for the desk phone instead, dialing the number with ease and placing it to your ear.

The seconds ticked by as it seemed to ring for an eternity before you received his voicemail. You sighed, as the brief message played, alerting you that you had reached Mr. Steve Harrington’s personal cell followed by the beep.

“Steve, hi. It's Dove. I— I just wanted to thank you for the dress, it was beautiful. And the flowers, I just read your note. I— Well, I mean you have nothing to apologize for. It's all complicated but, I think you know that. I really don't want to say this all over a voicemail, just please know that I'm sorry and I hope to see you again soon.”

You blew out a heavy breath, as you cradled the phone, sitting back in your chair hoping it wasn't too late to let him know how you truly feel.

His answer came in the form of an email to your business inbox a few hours later. He left it vague, knowing you would decipher it easily.

Ms. Alexander,

I won't be back in town until the end of the week, at which point I would love to see what you have on hand so I can get a better idea on which direction I should take.

Until then, Best Regards, S.H.

You laid in bed reading over the words, feeling those wings of hope flutter in your chest once more.

It wasn't over yet.

Unbeknownst to you he had been out of town checking Pip into a very remote rehab facility. They kept her whereabouts secret, going as far as taking her phone away, remaining that way for the duration of her stay.

He was elated to hear your voicemail, sending an email to your office immediately. He didn't want to keep you in suspense since he wouldn't get the chance to see you in person until much later in the week.

He and Eddie had a few meetings to attend, more business to discuss with some colleagues in other cities to get all of his affairs in order. He was getting the numbers and allies behind him.

Once his plane touched down back in Chicago early Friday afternoon, much to Eddie's dismay and disapproving grumbles he had them heading to see you.

He was silent most of the ride, knee bouncing the entire time, stewing in his own thoughts until he just couldn't handle it anymore.

“Steve, may I be blunt?” He asked from his seat beside him.

“Of course.” He sat his phone in his lap, giving the other man his full attention.

“I know you love her, but she's married, to a Petrov, no less. I hope you know what you're doing.” He reached for a cigarette, extending the gold case toward Steve offering him one.

He didn't immediately answer, taking one of the hand rolled cigarettes between his fingers. Sliding it between his lips, as Eddie pulled out a matching gold lighter igniting the end for him.

He inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine fill his lungs. Throwing his head back to release it as he watches the smoke rise and waft around them.

“Ed, I always know what I'm doing. Don't sweat it.” It comes out as nonchalant, making Eddie raise an eyebrow toward him.

Eddie knew Steve was always thinking at least five steps ahead but when it came to matters of the heart things could sometimes get muddled. That’s when things could go awry.

“Care to tell the rest of the class or are you just going to keep me in the dark?” He inhaled his own cigarette.

“There's a lot of moving parts with this one. I'll tell you when you need to know. And right now, you don't need to know. There's more at stake than just her right now.” He sighed, looking out the window. “But I'll protect her at any and all costs.”

Eddie knew better than to prod any further. Steve would tell him when he was ready.

The driver slowed as he pulled up to the building.

“Understood boss. Just know that I'll have your back no matter what.” Clasping Steve on the shoulder before exiting the vehicle.

The driver opened Steve's door as he quickly got out.

Both men headed around back, per usual, to gain entrance to the building.

Steve spotted Abigail asking if you were available.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Harrington, she just stepped out for lunch, shall I take a message down for her?” She asked cheerily, grabbing her pad and pen.

“That won't be necessary, but do you happen to know where she went? I'm feeling quite famished myself, my flight just got in, maybe I'll see her in passing.” His smile lit up, no woman could ever truly resist that Harrington charm once he turned his attention solely to them.

“Of course, it's just down the road. Bistro Auclair. I'm not sure if she was meeting anyone or not.”

“Thank you, Ms. Shepherd. Have a lovely day.”

-

He walked the few blocks down the sidewalk, spotting you on the terrace as his heart fluttered. You were distracted by a book in your hands, as he strode up beside you. A little pinch of concentration was etched across your brow, which he thought was adorable.

He loved to see you in the ordinary, everyday routine of your life, longing to be there with you, enjoying the quiet company of one another. Seeing you now, he almost didn't want to disturb you.

“Ti sono mancato, little dove?” He spoke, unbuttoning his jacket before taking a seat at the table next to you. “I'd kiss your cheek, but eyes are always watching.” He flashes that million-dollar smile and sends you a wink.

“Always.” You reply, an answer to both his question and observation not entirely surprised to see him, taking a sip of your coffee. You mirrored his own cheeky grin behind your cup.

“So, from now on I think it's best if you want to have a chat, meet me at the gallery instead. My so-called guards are under strict orders to stay out.”

You glance around, brief worry flashing across your face. He's trying to be discreet, but if anyone happened to be spying it would be a little too obvious. He knows your tails are parked around the corner right now, not bothering to watch you. Eddie's stationed close by keeping an eye on them.

“As you wish.” He states, flagging down the waiter. “I heard your gallery is hosting a charity event tomorrow. How would one go about finding themselves on the guest list?”

“I suppose you would have to know someone.” You shrugged. “But, since you're a paying client, your name is already on the list. I'm sure Abigail sent you an invitation earlier this week.”

“Of course, I haven't been home to check.” His smile never wavered, as he sat up a little straighter. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

You began to gather your things, leaving cash on the table for your bill as you stood.

“Those goons don't come in during events either. I make them hang in the back alley. You and Eddie can get in no problem. I'll have his name added too.” He nodded in understanding as you slipped past, his eyes trailing your curves as your hips swayed with each step that took you further away from him.

Soon. He thought to himself. It was just a matter of time.

The day of the charity gala brought its own stresses and challenges. Getting the gallery ready for events of this caliber was always a hassle but at the end of the day they were worth it.

Decorators, caterers and entertainment was brought in for the evening. All in a rush of madness, vying to get everything ready on time. The large space was filled with high top tables for guests to congregate and drink to their hearts desire all while bidding for some magnificent pieces.

One hundred percent of the profits for all of the art donated would go to charity. Something you were truly proud of.

Mood lighting in muted blues and purples was set around the space making sure that the art still remained in the spotlight. The lighting was set so it also provided a little seclusion and privacy in some corners of the room.

You directed everyone around until the very last minute. Abigail had to practically shove you away to make sure you were able to change, everything in your office already laid out.

The dress you had chosen was an elegant, but not over the top floor length, slip style silk gown with a thigh high slit. It fits your curves but not overly exaggerating them. You'd chosen black to stay on theme with the event. Thankfully the small remnants of those last bruises had faded.

You took the opportunity to make sure your makeup was just right, and every hair was in place.

As you walked out into the hall, chatter and soft music filled the air. Soon the gallery would be filled to the brim, exactly as you planned.

An hour quickly passed as you made your way around the large space, exchanging pleasantries with all the guests but you were distracted. Eyes drifting, continuously scanning the room looking for him the entire time.

Across the room, he had already made his entry, searching for you as well. He weaves his way through the outer edges of the crowd, always cautious and on high alert.

He spotted you first, your back turned speaking with an attendee he paid little attention to as his focus was solely on you.

Finishing up your conversation, you turned abruptly, as if you could feel his eyes. You caught those warm, honey hued irises looking right at you. You threw him a warm smile, nodding toward the far corner of the room, sitting your champagne down on a nearby table as you began walking.

You navigated the crowd easily, moving to a more desolate spot.

He met you there a moment later, wearing a simple and classy black tux and matching bowtie. It was then you noticed he held a single, dark red rose.

“For the beautiful host.” Extending it forward.

Your fingertips pinched the stem gingerly, as you took it from him with a shy smile, lifting it to your nose and breathing in the intoxicating aroma.

“I think we should go somewhere more private.” Sitting an electronic key card on the table to the side of you and continuing to slide past him. Being cautious to not linger too long out in the open like this. “Access to the balcony, down the corridor and to the far left. I'll meet you there in ten.”

It felt like your feet couldn't carry you fast enough. Your nerves were electrified, buzzing with anticipation as your heart rate ticked up, navigating through the crowd and finally reaching the empty corridor back to your office. You swung the door open and quickly slammed it behind you, letting out a heavy breath.

You could feel the change as if it were all around you. After tonight, there was no going back.

You reapplied your lipstick, looking over yourself once more. You weren't the same woman from eight years ago. Time and a million miles had separated you. You both had changed but you still saw that handsome boy, who wore his heart on his sleeve, hoping he still saw that foolish girl with eyes only for him.

Using the door from your office, you didn't realize he was already perched in the corner until he spoke, startling you just a bit.

“Beautiful view, tesoro.” Eyes cast toward the twinkling lights of the city instead of you. “Eddie's watching the hall. I can hear you worrying from here.”

You crossed the small space to come stand beside him, as you too looked toward the soft glow and twinkling lights, suddenly feeling his eyes lingering on you instead.

“I'm not worried about that. No one's going to come back here.” You sighed, suddenly feeling a light chill, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“But you are worried, no? Tell me, what's on your mind?” He knew you all too well.

You had a million things you wanted to say but suddenly you weren't sure where to start. Standing by him now it seems like none of it mattered, as the trepidation melted away.

“I can't live like this.” You finally spoke, voice wavering the tiniest bit, catching him a little off guard. For once he wasn't sure where you were going with this.

“Dove, just say the word and I'll stop everything. The flowers, dropping by. If it's too forward or making you uncomfortable. The situation isn't ideal but…” he cleared his throat, to bite back what he truly wanted to say. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

“No, it's not ideal.” You slowly looked over to him, his tough exterior melting away showing you the vulnerable man you loved underneath as he searched your face.

“I could never ask you to stop, but we aren't stupid kids anymore.” Your emotions were getting the better of you. Feelings welling up with nowhere else to go but out, as you were thrust back into a memory you had tried to bury.

“He's sending me away.” He spoke softly into your hair, placing a kiss there. Your head was laid on his bare chest as you let your fingertips trace patterns onto his torso.

It had been another night of you two tangled beneath his silk sheets forgetting the rest of the world for just a little while. You didn't want to think about family or what comes next, but he couldn't help himself in these moments.

Everything heavy on his mind was laid out before you in the small quiet of the night. It wasn't unusual. He trusted you. He loved you.

“When?” Your voice trembled. Afraid of the answer but it was better than the unknown.

“A couple of weeks. He doesn't want me to be in his way. He knows he's in the wrong. It's better to send the opposition away than try to see the old way doesn't always work.”

Steve had seen things changing, he brought new ideas and a fresh way of thinking that Richard didn't like, determined to do things his way.

“Steve, he can't do that. You're taking over for him eventually; can't he see how stupid that would be?” You were already mad. Knowing that Richard Harrington hates his own son enough to send him away from everything he knows.

“He can. He's sending me over there to head the small operation he has. Eddie's coming too.” As if some small comfort knowing he wouldn't be alone would make it any better.

He was leaving you. Who would be here for you?

You lay there knowing there was nothing either you or he could do.

A small tear you were holding back pushed past your lashes and hit his chest. He felt it but didn't say anything, only pulling you closer into his warmth.

“Dove, I won't be gone forever.” He held your chin, moving your face towards his. Your eyes were closed as his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “I promise.”

“You promised.” Whispering out, your gaze back out toward the city instead of him.

“What?” He asks, suddenly confused.

“You promised you wouldn't be gone forever and yet here we are. It feels like an entire lifetime has gone by.”

His mouth parted but words weren't enough. He didn't know what to say.

When he didn't say anything, you filled the silence, turning to face him.

“You were 22 Steve; you could have told him you were staying! You weren't a boy to be ordered around anymore!” Your shouts felt like knives slicing at his heart.

“Dove,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gathering his strength for a fight he wasn't ready for. “What was I supposed to do, disobey my father? Turn my back on my family? You know better than anyone that wasn't possible.”

“Yeah, we both know family duty all too well.” Scoffing slightly. “Did you think I wouldn't notice you never responded to my wedding invitation? Not even a card or text.” Your eyes began to sting and well with tears.

“Little Dove,” he lifted your chin, pinched softly between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you no choice but to turn your focus back to him. “Do you know what that did to me? What it would have done to me to watch you marry someone else?”

“What about me Steve?” You moved out of his touch. “The entire time I was hoping you would burst through those doors and take me away from all of it. I never wanted any of this.”

“Goddamnit,” he hissed. Thinking back to when he had received that invitation. It was like a death sentence, yet this was a fate worse than death. He had to live the rest of his life knowing your heart belonged to someone else.

“Oh, Steeeeeeviieeeee!” Pip’s voice rang out, as she opened the door to his small office in the back of the villa. He didn't look up, only silently cursing himself for not locking the door.

“What the hell do you want?” He asked, already fearing an impending headache his little sister would undoubtedly bring forth with whatever antics she was about to start.

She tiptoed up to his desk, hands behind her back.

“Mail for you.” Promptly dropping an envelope addressed to him on top of the stack of papers he had been going through and plopping herself down in the chair across from him.

He glared at her as he picked it up. It was an off-white envelope with roses embossed along two of the corners. Taking his letter opener and cutting into it, he finally spoke back up.

“Do you mind? When the hell do you ever bring me my mail?” Sliding what was clearly some sort of invitation out.

“Oh no, I'm not going anywhere for this.” A grin lifted the edges of her lips as she looked back at him. “Mamma already opened ours, this one is all for you.”

He sighed, holding it up as he began to scan it over.

“David Alexander requests the honor of your presence for the marriage of Y/N Y/M/N Alexander and Nikolai Dmitri Petrov…” The rest of the words went fuzzy as he focused on your name. His stomach felt like it dropped, time seemed to slow as his heart began to beat radically in his chest.

“Get out.” He spoke, eyes never leaving the invitation.

“Oh Steve, you can't possibly think she was going to wait around on you forever. You should be happy fo—”

“I said get the fuck out, Pip!” He yelled, rising from his seat pointing toward the door, closing his fist around the paper.

She rolled her eyes, huffing as she got up and crossed the room, murmuring a quick “asshole” before slamming the door behind her.

He unclenched his fist, tossing it to the side.

“Fuck!” He hisses out, moving to the small liquor cabinet in the corner of the room pouring three fingers of bourbon and downing it in one gulp immediately pouring another.

This couldn't be happening. Not like this. He picked up his phone, dialing a number he knew by heart, but he stopped.

He hadn't lurked on social media in several months, but he was suddenly on autopilot, pulling up your Instagram with a few swipes and was immediately met with weeks of smiling, happy faces from you and Nik.

His face flushed hot as his heart beat wildly, scrolling through an endless stream of photos, pausing when he caught sight of the one that took his breath.

A close up of your left hand, a big diamond engagement ring adorned your ring finger. A blurry image of you kissing Nik in the background.

His nostrils flared, releasing the breath he was holding when he suddenly slammed his phone against the nearest wall. The glass of bourbon came next, shattering as shards flew across the room.

It was the first of many, lonely nights he locked himself away and drowned himself in liquor trying to forget all about you.

For three agonizing months he hid it as best he could, until it all came to a head the day of the wedding.

Eddie knew when to speak freely and when to keep his mouth shut. He'd watched his best friend's mental and physical health decline, hiding it well from his mother and Pip but it was getting worse. The business was taking a hit, and he knew Richard would be coming for Steve's ass if he didn't straighten himself up. He'd seen him work too hard to let this be the end.

Eddie tried knocking first, but was met with silence on the other end, then trying the handle but the door was locked.

“Steve, unlock the door. We need to talk.” There was a beat of silence before he spoke up.

“Go away, Eddie.” It came out low and muffled.

“I can't do that. Either you unlock the door or I'm busting it down. Your choice but I know if Sophia has to replace a broken door, she isn't going to be happy.” A few seconds ticked by before he finally heard shuffling and the door flew open.

Steve was disheveled and swaying just a bit as he lifted a bottle of bourbon to his lips, chugging a few large gulps.

His shirt was unbuttoned, tie abandoned on his desk and hair falling in and around his face. Eddie knew he'd been drinking most of the day. He finally made a gesture with his hand, bidding him to enter with glossy, half lidded eyes barely watching as he passed, shutting the door behind them.

“Look, man you have got to pull yourself together. It isn't the end of the world.” He began, as Steve crossed the room, plopping himself at the end of the sofa. “If your dad gets hears about any of this shit he—”

“You ever been in love, Eddie?” The interruption came as a surprise as the older man looked down at Steve, the two never talked about their feelings or such frivolous topics as love. They were close but left things of this nature close to their vest.

“Wha— I mean, I—”

“No, you haven't.” Steve finally looked up, crestfallen and broken.

“Steve, man—”

“No, don't come in here and presume to know anything about how I feel and tell me it's not the end of the world when my entire world is about to marry someone else.” He stood on unsteady legs, taking a few steps to close the distance between the two of them, pressing a finger into his chest.

He closed his eyes against the stinging sensation, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, suddenly laughing out.

“Eddie, just fuck off tonight.” He took a step back, and stumbled, almost toppling over before the other man caught his arm.

“Woah there, big boy. Let's just…” He helped guide him back over to the sofa, prying the bottle from his hand as he sat down.

His breaking point came a few moments later. His phone alerted him to a new text. He immediately regretted opening the picture from Pip.

You were stunning, with a huge, beaming smile. You were positively glowing, and it made his stomach churn. Burning liquor threatened to make its escape back up.

He knew he'd made a huge mistake.

Steve broke down, laying his head in his hands letting his tears fall freely.

Eddie was taken back. In all the years they had known each other, he'd never seen him quite so vulnerable.

“It's all my fault. I should have never left.” Suddenly lifting his head, wiping those errant tears and sniffling. Eddie just stared on in disbelief letting him continue. “I did all of this shit thinking it was the right thing, for the both of us. I started pulling away instead of telling her the truth. Instead of going back to Chicago and bringing her back here, where she belongs. Now I've lost her.”

In Steve's mind, he had become much too wrapped up in the business. He had pulled away hoping you would find happiness with someone else that wasn't involved with the drama this life inevitably led to. He hoped for someone who could give you the normal life you longed for.

It's what you deserved. He wanted to give you that life but being here it seemed less and less possible with each passing day. He wasn't returning to Chicago anytime soon.

He had to let you go.

He never imagined you would marry into another family. It tore his heart into. He'd seen firsthand what it could do to a family. He had been trying to spare you from all of it, yet you had been sucked right in anyway.

“Steve, it may not feel like it, but you did the right thing.” Eddie tentatively laid a hand to the younger man's shoulder in a reassuring manner. “This line of work is hard enough. I can't imagine being tied down like that with one more piece to worry about. People like us aren't meant for happy endings.”

Steve simply nodded, sinking back further into the cushions. You'd both made your decisions. He wouldn't stand in your way. It was a decision, he feared, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

You shove past him, knocking him from the memory, heading back to your office but his hand wraps around your wrist, halting your movement.

“Dove, I swear to God if I had known it wasn't what you wanted, I would have been here. You have to believe me.”

You took a breath and slowly turned back toward him, unable to contain the tears from falling, as you let him guide you into his chest.

He tentatively rested his hand on your hip, a warm palm through the thin silk, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I let you go so you could be free of all this so you could marry some finance guy and live a halfway normal life.” You huffed out a small laugh at the absurdity of it. As if there would have ever been anyone else but him.

His free palm came to rest on your cheek as you nuzzled into his touch, closing your eyes as the pad of his thumb wiped the tears from your eye. Craving and longing for something you'd never thought you'd feel again. You needed more.

“Steve, I would have waited a lifetime for you.” Words coming out breathy, knocking the wind from his lungs. A knife straight to the heart.

“Dove, look at me.” Those hazel pools filled with so much adoration looking back at you, also reflecting a pain that was palpable.

So much lost time and things left unsaid.

“Steve.” You grasp the back of his hand, lips meeting his palm planting a small kiss there.

“I need you to tell me what you want.” His face inches closer. Waiting for your words. He nudged his nose into yours, titling his head slightly as his top lip grazed yours sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kiss me, please.”

His lips envelop yours, a soft press turning eager with one taste. It was a tidal wave of relief, being pulled out to an endless sea, floating and falling all at once. It was familiar and warm, like finding your way back home after a long journey but the butterflies fluttered in your ribcage all the same.

He kissed you with a passion and fervor that was unmatched, as your lips began working in tandem, stealing your breath and making you weak in the knees.

The hold on your hip tightened as you gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him further down into you.

He licked at your lower lip, yours parting for him. Tongues finally meeting in a slow rhythmic dance. You could taste a hint of the warm bourbon he had been sipping earlier but everything underneath was Steve.

His hand reached your lower back pressing you further into him, suddenly feeling an aching need growing in the pit of your stomach.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to finally catch your breath, you were both panting as your foreheads met, grinning down at each other wildly until his smile fell a little.

“I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry I wasn't there. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I've only ever wanted you. I need you, Steve. Please.” You gave him no time to respond, taking his hand into yours, and promptly dragging him back through the door.

You turned to shut it and he was instantly behind you. His hands wound around your waist, pulling you back into his chest as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I want nothing more than to have my way with you. Let me worship you.”

Goosebumps erupted across your skin, his words sending a shiver down your spine as you faced him.

“We don't have that kind of time, but I need you. I haven't—” You shied away from the confession you were about to vocalize, as he began kissing down your jaw.

“You haven't what?” He asks in-between kisses.

“I haven't been with anyone for a long time.” He paused, pulling back to look at you, eyes narrowed and brows meeting with confusion. “Nik and I— we haven't been intimate in years. He— he would rather fuck the whores at his club. We just stopped after a while. I didn't want him touching me anymore.”

Your confession both elated and enraged him. He knew Nik was an idiot, but to ignore you for some common whores? This beautiful, amazing woman he had no idea how to handle or take care of. It all suddenly made sense why you two never had children.

“Tesoro mio, that has nothing to do with you. He's an idiot. He doesn't deserve you.” His lips find yours once more, this time less urgent, moving languidly as his nose presses into your cheek, as pulling you further into him.

He began to walk you back, your thighs hitting your desk making you break free for a moment, frantically shoving papers out of the way as they cascaded to the floor. Something you would worry about later.

He wound his arm around you, helping to lift you up, parting your thighs as far as the restrictive fabric of your dress would allow as he came to slot himself between them. His eyes never left yours, leaning down to capture your soft, supple lips once more before he began trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

Your hands reached for his belt buckle, but he stopped you with a tsk, stilling your movements.

“Uh, uh tesoro. Let me get you ready. This is all about you right now.”

His hands trailed lower, reaching the hem of your dress, pushing it further up your thighs until your red panties came into view.

“Mmmm… my favorite color.” He growls, his fingertips trace the top of your thigh softly, bringing his other hand to the desktop beside you, palm planted firmly against the cool wood, leaning close to your ear.

“I know you taste just as sweet as I remember.” His words make you bite down against your lower lip, your body rife with anticipation, his lips peppering softly along your cheek meeting yours once more.

His fingertips trail lower, to the inside of your thigh, you gasp out releasing a breathy moan that his lips and mouth swallow. He would gladly drown in those sounds, letting you pull him under.

You further part your thighs, the damp silk of your panties were sticky, clinging to you. If you weren't so needy, you'd feel slightly embarrassed at how soaked you already were.

His finger inches closer, grazing that crease where your panties lay.

Your hips suddenly jolt forward when he presses into the wet fabric, immediately finding your puffy, aching clit applying just the right amount of pressure.

You moan obscenely at the miniscule amount of relief it provides, not finding it in yourself to care who could hear as he hooks his finger into the fabric, and ever so slowly begins to pull it to the side revealing your glistening pussy. You needed him to touch you.

“All this for me?” He hisses, looking down admiring the sight before him, ready to dip his finger into the sweet nectar. His cock already hard, stirring within its confines, aching at the thought of your warmth wrapped snugly around him.

Suddenly, a loud knock came at the door, pulling you both out of your lust fueled haze, as he quickly withdrew his hand helping you pull your dress back into place. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Uh… Steve?” Eddie's voice came muffled through the door.

“Fuck!” He hissed through gritted teeth. Resting his forehead to yours.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Sorry to… uh… interrupt but we've got some business to take care of.”

“Just give me a sec.” He grunted, cupping your cheeks gently, bringing his lips to your forehead placing a soft kiss there.

“I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It's okay Steve. It's okay.” You smile, pulling back slightly. You knew what kind of things could draw him away. You'd seen it countless times with your father.

“I should get back out there before someone starts looking for me anyway.” Saying with a slight shrug, as he helped you down slowly from the desk, holding you close to his body.

Neither of you are quite yet ready to say goodbye, helping him straighten his suit and tie.

“I'll be in touch soon, I promise.” Wrapping his arms around you, as yours found their way around his neck, holding each other tightly as if it might be the last.

You weren't sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said so you stayed silent letting the stillness of the moment take over.

“I've got to go.” He reluctantly spoke, releasing his grip, only for his hand to find its way back to your cheek tilting your head gently for one more kiss. It was quick, because if he stayed any longer, he wouldn't be able to pry himself away. You both longed for so much more.

He let you go, taking a few steps to the door before he walked out of view.

You sighed, leaning back on the desk, head cloudy with thoughts of Steve. Giving him a head start, straightening your makeup and hair before heading back to the event.

Thoughts lingered on him the rest of the evening; a smile was plastered across your face as your cheeks began to ache later into the night. You were glowing after your interaction and wanted to hold onto this blissful high for as long as possible.

As the night came to an end, you were left with the cleanup crew once you had sent Abigail home. Typically, there was no reason to stay behind with them, but you were trying to avoid the inevitability of going back home.

You eventually retired to your office for a brief moment of peace before calling your driver.

Immediately you notice a small black box sitting on the top of your desk, as you shut the door behind you.

Quickly shuffling over, the fear that spiked your heart rate was swiftly dampened down when you spotted the key card you had snuck Steve earlier sitting beside it. You hadn't thought to retrieve it when you were interrupted, though you wouldn't care if he had kept it.

A small note was carefully laid out across the top. The first handwritten note he'd sent you in a long time, but you still recognized his articulate scrawl, as if every letter had been written with intent and purpose. You suppose it had.

For emergencies, or really anything. I don't like it when we can't keep in touch.

S.H.

A phone. A burner, you surmised, in the event you were caught with it no one could trace it back to him.

You held it in your palm, pulling up the contacts to a number that wasn't labeled.

You typed up a quick message and hit send. His response was almost instantaneous, as if he'd been waiting for it.

Sent 12:04 AM: Thank you.

921-987-5555 12:04 AM: You don't have to keep it on you. Just be careful if you do.

Sent 12:05 AM: Of course.

921-987-5555 12:04 AM: Have a good night, Dove. We'll chat soon.

Not soon enough. You thought to yourself, deleting the conversation before putting the phone away in the drawer and locking it. Better safe than sorry.

It was a silent ride home with a mind full of racing thoughts.

His lips, slow and passionate. Making sure you would never forget how he tastes.

His touch, yearning and possessive, sending your skin aflame; molding your pliable flesh to him.

When you were together, it didn't matter how much time had passed. There was only him. There would only ever be Steve.

You didn't bother trying to stay quiet as you entered the house, uncaring if Nik was already here. Things beyond your control were already in motion. You felt and air of change as you crossed the threshold.

Your heels clicked across the white marble flooring, as you reached out to take hold of the banister, but a guff voice drifting from the study suddenly made your blood turn cold.

You only knew him by his nickname that Nik and other Russian mob men call him, “Boogeyman.” His true identity was a secret, but Nik had called him in on occasion for unsavory propositions before.

In layman's terms, he was a hired hitman. One of the most ruthless hailing from Russia. Everyone knew of him and what he was capable of.

Stopping momentarily, you caught a bit of their conversation.

“Yes, of course old friend. This is just a precaution. Nothing set in stone, yet, as long as he stays out of my way there shouldn't be an issue.”

“No matter, young Petrov. I’ll be ready.”

They both laughed out, as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, hurrying up the stairs without a glance back.

Suddenly a whole new set of worries began to bubble up inside you as you found the safe haven of your room, thanking God for the newly installed lock.

The night full of promise and happiness was quickly turning into a nightmare. This was becoming far too much.

This journey wasn't going to be an easy one, it seemed at every turn there would be a new obstacle destined to cruelly keep you from the man you love.

This wasn't the end.

It was now up to you to move forward.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know! ❤️

[the-hopeless-haze]

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 15

The second part being released today. And it's looking like people really want more of this AU. Which, I really should have seen coming.

So once I get my backlog up for Moonlight and Indiana (I just need to write one more chapter each to get the stories up to three chapters) I will start working on it for you.

And because I've been zooming past my daily goal of 400 words a day (I'll often get 1500-2000 words a day) I've decided as a way to pump the breaks so that I don't get too far ahead again is to spend my evenings editing stories for my beta to edit for AO3. I already have one in the works, I'm just waiting for her final edits to put it up on AO3.

In this we have Steve being awesome at what he does, he dodges one hell of a bullet because Robin is awesome, and Eddie falls just a little more in love with Steve.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

****

Steve was busy leading up to Eddie’s rut, Chrissy being right about him getting more clients just from being on Eddie’s arm.

Everyone clamoring to see what it was that made Eddie fall head over heels in love with the omega escort.

Steve ate up the attention. He had talked to Eddie about the actress and how it made him feel.

Suddenly Eddie was all apologies. The actress was a good friend of his and he had just been so excited to see her that he forgot what it would look like to Steve. Especially since Eddie hadn’t introduced them. Plus it had left Steve open to Tommy’s sneering.

Steve had backpedaled then. He hadn’t meant for Eddie to make a big deal out of it. He had thought that Eddie would apologize, they’d fuck about it and Steve would learn that with Eddie being as famous as he was, Steve would just have to learn to share him.

But Eddie wouldn’t let him. He had hurt Steve’s feelings over something that he could have and should have avoided. Now he knew why Tommy’s words had stung as badly as they had.

So he showered Steve with all the affection in the world. Taking him on picnics to the beach one day and bowling and miniature golf the next. Fancy dinners and shopping sprees. Intimate to formal, fun to stately. Concerts and plays.

Every spare moment Steve had was spent being wined and dined by Eddie.

The courting was intense, but then again so was Steve. He liked intense, he was intense.

Steve was getting ready for a final rut, before Eddie’s next week when Robin called him up.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steve asked in confusion. “What’s up?”

“Management just flagged the client.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. It took a lot for management to flag a client. They always did checks on their clients before letting them hire their escorts. But sometimes they’ll do a deeper check if they feel something is off.

“What caused the flag?”

“Something in the wording,” Robin said. “I had been trying to pin down where I had heard it before. It was only yesterday I realized it sounded like some of the stuff the alpha from the Grammy’s was spouting as we hauled his ass out of the venue.”

If Steve was cold before, now his spine was ice. “Holy shit.”

Robin hummed her agreement. “So I had Hopper dig deeper. It’s–it’s not good, Steve.”

“Just tell me.”

“The idiot had used his real accounts to plot your kidnapping after going through all the work to hide who he was to the company,” Robin said grimly.

Steve sat down on the sofa with a thump. “Was he–did he know where I–Robin I’m scared.”

“I’m already in the elevator, babe,” she said softly. “He doesn’t know where you live or even where Eddie lives, okay? Starcourt alerted his security detail as soon as the plot was uncovered.”

Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Will I still be able to service his rut?”

“Yes,” she said, “I’m at your door, I’ll tell you all about it, face to face, okay?”

“Okay.”

Robin let herself in and hurried over to the sofa to throw her arms around him.

“Everything is okay,” she promised. “There hasn’t been a successful kidnapping of a Starcourt omega since the 1940s. Trust us, we’ve got this on lock.”

Steve nodded. “Tell me about Eddie’s rut.”

Robin grinned mischievously. “You’re going to love it.”

“Oh?” Steve’s interest was piqued. That interest drew him from his fear and anxiety, just like she knew it would.

“It’s going to happen here.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”

“It gets even better,” Robin said sing-song.

“How could it get any better than that?” Steve asked once he had picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Management is letting him know where you live,” she squealed.

Steve’s hands went to cover his mouth. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”

So she did.

She broke down what would happen if Eddie’s rut broke through the scent.

She went over the different things that would happen due to it being in Steve’s room with his nest, but it was amazing news.

“What made them decide to let Eddie in on the secret?” Steve asked when she was done.

Robin set down her tablet she had used to go over all the information and turned her full attention to him.

“Because he tried to cancel his rut servicing with you but with you still getting paid because he was worried that you might be followed to his place,” Robin explained.

Steve blushed a deep red.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He looked up at her with glistening eyes. “He really loves me, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, yes he does.”

****

Steve didn’t have any other clients that week, so he spent the week getting his penthouse suite ready for his alpha. He already knew Eddie’s favorite snacks and how he could just eat handfuls and handfuls of trail mix as long as there weren’t raisins. So Steve subtly tried out other dried fruits and found he loved dried apricots. So those replaced the raisins.

Protein shakes were okay as long as they had some chocolate in them. But he could tell if there was any herbs to them. Thyme, basil, you name it, if it was there, Eddie wouldn’t drink them.

It was actually kind of fun tailoring the rut servicing to what Eddie enjoyed. Cotton sheets over satin. Certain brand of bottled water. How often he was lucid during the five days.

His nest was carefully packed away into another room, so that Eddie’s scent didn’t get embedded into the materials. There would be plenty of time for that when they bonded, doing it too soon could result in a faux bond and Steve would get sick.

Which was the last thing either of them wanted.

Steve was fluffing the pillows for the millionth time when Robin radioed that Eddie was about to pull up. He made his way to the front of the hotel and watched as Xander pulled up to the curb.

Eddie stepped out onto the pavement and looked up at the hotel in shock.

“La Rose?” he asked Steve in confusion. “Isn’t this where we met up for drinks after my interview?”

Steve grinned, taking Eddie’s bag from Xander. They walked past the hotel bar and Eddie turned to him.

“Holy shit!” he gasped. “It is! I thought we met up here.”

Steve giggled. “We did. I just came down the elevator instead of arriving by car.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” he asked, bumping Steve’s shoulder with his own.

“Robin,” Steve said proudly. “She can work any magic she wants to with management. I swear she has blackmail information on key members.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “That sounds like Buckley.”

They finally got to Steve’s floor and he pointed to a room to the far right. “That is where you’ll be taken if I go into a mini heat.”

“Wouldn’t they want me to be far away from you as possible?” Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head. “They want to whisk you away to a nearby room on the same floor so your scent could calm me down and help me through my heat. If they took you off the premises I could get rejection sickness.”

Eddie blinked at him a moment.

“Oh.”

Steve smiled and led the way to the door that would lead to his apartment. He opened the door and moved out of the way so Eddie could enter first.

“Wow, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “This is amazing. You live here all by yourself?”

“On this floor,” Steve answered. “Have a seat, we’ll talk about the coming rut and then get you settled. I’ll just put your bag in my bedroom.”

Eddie did as he was told, sitting on the nice fluffy sofa.

“All right,” Steve said, sliding onto the sofa next to Eddie. “So walk me through your ruts, what happens?”

Eddie squirmed a little. This was Steve Harrington, professional escort, and not Stevie, his hot omega boyfriend speaking.

“My pre-ruts start hard and fast,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought. “Then they last five days and I’m barely lucid through them. It’s how I got caught by that omega who told me they were infertile. I wasn’t conscious for much of it.”

Steve nodded. “When do you lower the light in wherever it is that you spend your rut?”

Eddie blinked at him. “Lower the lights, what do you mean? You don’t have sex with the lights on?”

“You’ve always had light on during your ruts, even at night?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Not lucid enough to turn them off,” he said with a shrug.

Steve picked up a remote from the coffee table and closed the drapes and dimmed the lights.

He could see the physical change that came over Eddie. His shoulders relaxed and his eyelids drooped. His skin color which had been pale and clammy when he arrived was starting to get color back in his cheeks.

He tilted his head up as he examined the lights. “What is this feeling? I feel warm and drowsy.”

Steve sighed. “It’s how ruts are supposed to start. But it’s not mentioned in health class or anything. The bright lights signify to our poor little lizard brains that we’re still out in the open where we can be attacked, instead of safe in our caves. It wasn’t until the advent of modern light that it was ever a problem for alphas, but the science of it has come a long way in recent years.”

“Huh.”

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You think that’s why I’ve had trouble staying lucid because I’ve been forcing myself to be on high alert all the time?”

“Could be,” Steve agreed. “But even if it isn’t, you can trust me to keep you safe. I will not trick you and I will not harm you. You want condoms on all the time, I will be sure to change them as often as required. I’ve been on birth control for twelve weeks as you requested.”

Eddie blushed. “Thanks for sending me the video of you taking the pill every day, that must have been so humiliating for you.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m an escort, the amount of humiliating things I’ve had to do, that doesn’t even make the top twenty.”

“What, now?”

Steve laughed. “Alphas will sometimes hire us for humiliation roleplays. Did a fair number of those before I was big enough to reject them. But I know a couple of omegas that live for that shit, so if a new omega is really uncomfortable with it, the roleplay will be passed to one of them.”

Eddie blinked again. “Darlin’, the more I learn about your profession the more intrigued I am.”

“At least you’re intrigued,” Steve chuckled. “Most aren’t. They tend to be pearl clutchers about it.”

“Not even the highest paid actresses have to do the kind of work you do,” Eddie breathed. “Why aren’t there award shows for you escorts?”

Steve smiled sweetly. “Because it’s all confidential. But maybe I can convince a couple of my friends to do our own version of that for booze and prizes. I think it’d be a hit.”

Eddie grinned. “Oh to be a fly on that wall.”

Steve reached out and rubbed his arm. “How are you feeling? Is the pre-rut still progressing or have you hit full rut yet?”

Eddie frowned as he took stock of his body.

“Still in pre-heat,” he said thoughtfully. “Huh. My uncle was a beta, so he wasn’t able to teach me this sort of shit, but you would have thought that someone along the line would have said something.”

“The education in this country is still woefully behind for anything regarding sex,” Steve said ruefully.

Eddie snorted. That was like calling a hurricane a little summer storm.

“But at least they teach you this shit,” he said.

Steve grinned. “Indeed they do teach me this shit.”

He got to his feet and gently led Eddie to the bedroom. He got undressed and sat down on the bed. He took Eddie’s hand and directed it to his thighs.

“Is it time, baby?” Eddie murmured, looking down at this beautiful, smart, talented omega in utter awe.

“Almost, alpha,” Steve purred. “But being in bed when it hits is easier on the knees.”

Eddie cackled and Steve’s omega chirped happily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed back, “the things that cute little noise does to me.”

Steve laid down on the bed, as pretty as a picture and oh how Eddie wanted.

He got undressed and slid the first condom on. He straddled Steve’s hips and kissed him deeply.

“Oh, Stevie,” he murmured. “I feel so good.”

Steve stroked Eddie’s cheek. “And I promise it will continue to feel good for the next five days.”

Eddie looked into his eyes and believed him.

****

Part 16 Part 17

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[wineanddine-week]

Wine and Dine Week Prompt List!

Day 1 - Date night Day 2 - Comfort Day 3 - Magic Day 4 - Fantasy Day 5 - Worship Day 6 - Memory  Day 7 - Nightmare

Alt Prompts Murder Swap

Rules:

Any and all submissions are welcome! Art, fics, boards, anything you can think of. Please tag us so we'll be able to see it and reblog it!

NSFW is allowed, as long as it is tagged accordingly! We will have a tag for smut, gore, and blood (using just those words) for blocking purposes.

Late submissions will be taken up until the end of October, but they will probably be monitored less frequently.

The ask box is always open for questions! Please feel free to ask if you have any

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day 4: Lover

Continuing @cassianappreciationweek with an entry that explores Cassian's openness to love in its many packages. You can read it here or on ao3.

Thicker Than Water

In which Cassian loves his friends.. a lot.

CW: consensual sexual content, a moment of dubcon if you squint

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

“I thought being married would get us past the overfamiliar gifts, but I guess that was wishful thinking,” Nesta sighed, and Cassian cursed himself for the thousandth time for all the years he spent letting his guilt rule him.

The House’s warmth was a relief when it washed over his wings, and as he set Nesta down in the dining room it felt more like home than ever. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack, and despite the time his stomach still swooped seeing the long column of her neck, her cheeks flushed from the wine and hours spent in the parlor of the river house.

Nesta, his wife, their third Solstice as mates since that night everything changed. Lucky didn’t even come close to how he felt having her in his life - it was a rare gift, one that he doubted even other mates experienced.

Which was why the present from Mor didn’t make him feel uncomfortable so much as sad. He worried about the ways his friend was struggling to move on, to find her place now their family had changed irrevocably.

Cassian sank into an armchair and chucked the silky undershorts into the hearth, watching the fabric curl and twist as the flames engulfed it. “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe she’ll actually hear me this time.”

He’d told Nesta the story of their ill-fated one night stand ages ago, the fallout not just with Mor’s engagement but within their found family as well. He still looked back on the whole thing with shame, but Nesta was helping him shift that, to understand and make peace with the ways he’d been harmed, to discern what was and wasn’t his duty to bear.

“It’s not your fault,” she said as if reading his thoughts, coming behind his chair to drape herself over his shoulders. Her hair smelled of vanilla and cinnamon when she buried her face in his neck, voice thick with drink and drowsiness. “I can’t say it’s surprising, the way all of you are with each other. If I didn’t know, I’d assume you’d have been with at least one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

Cassian frowned as Nesta tapped a careful finger against her lips and moved to pour herself a nightcap, her words sounding measured when she finally spoke. “Your family is very.. charged. You talk about sex all the time, none of you were attached before my sisters and I came along. There’s just something not quite familial about it.”

“Hey now,” he began, but Nesta cut him off with a kiss, returning to perch herself in his lap. He drew his wings and arms around her habitually despite his offense, stealing a sip from her glass.

“Sorry love, I’ve no judgment for you. I’m certainly not innocent." She loosed the tie from his hair, her fingers soothing where they worked through the tangles he'd earned rolling on the floor with his nephew. "Besides, you’ve only slept with one of your family members, it could be worse.”

“Uh.. huh.”

“Cassian.”

He’d been distracted by the fullness of her hips in his hands, thinking of how he could persuade her to push sleep off for another hour or two. But now her words registered, igniting a nervousness low in his stomach. He flashed what he hoped was a lazy smile. “Yes, sweetheart?”

But he knew it didn’t work when her blue-gray eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, fixed him with a stare that would make lesser males cower. 

“You’re being shifty. What are you hiding?”

Damn the bond, damn her mind-reading power that would’ve seen through him without the direct connection to his fucking soul. His insides went all squirmy, knots of memory beginning to unravel.

“Okay, remember how we agreed to not hold our pasts against each other?”

“Cassian Archeron, tell me the truth right now.”

“Okay fine fine, just don’t - ow - don’t kill me until you’ve heard the whole thing.”

Nesta lowered the pillow from where she’d raised it to whack him a second time, her wintery eyes flashing in the firelight.

“Spill.”

—

They’d been stationed in the Illyrian mountains for four fucking months by now, whipping the newest recruits into shape, or trying to, anyhow. Rhys wanted everyone in top fighting shape after rumors of an armada preparing to sail from the continent, and though it was a worthy cause, being away from Velaris was starting to wear Cassian thin.

But if he was miserable, then Azriel was wretchedly depressed. He was as surly as Cassian had ever seen him, and even though it wasn’t abnormal the duration of this last bout was worrisome. For weeks he’d been trying to find a way past that thick wall of stoicism, but for all his jokes and ribbing and attempts at quiet company, Az only sunk further into a deep freeze. There was a kind of deadness in his eyes that Cassian had come to associate with loneliness, or else feeling unworthy of reaching out.

So he decided to offer up one of his own frustrations one frigid morning as they sparred in the deserted ring, hoping to draw the shadowsinger out by catching him when his body was most alive.

“I’m going out of my mind surrounded by males up here,” Cassian said after dodging a jab of Azriel’s elbow aimed straight for his chin. "I have no idea how those monks in Cesere do it."

Az scoffed. “No one warming your bed?”

“Fuck no. You?”

“Not really looking.”

The village close by was more liberal than most due to its status as a trading crossroads, and Cassian had found a bevy of eager and willing females in the earlier days of their assignment. But one had to be careful to avoid spreading themselves too far - Illyrians were famous for being incurable gossips as much as they were for their wings.

Still, it surprised him to hear Azriel wasn’t even trying. They both had healthy appetites, the spymaster’s at times more ravenous than even his own.

“Yeah, sure.” Cassian smirked as they circled each other, making a show of rolling his eyes enough that Az might take the bait. He did, spinning to sweep Cassian’s feet from beneath him, but it went less well than expected when Az pivoted at the last moment and boxed him about the ear with a closed fist, making it ring.

“I mean it.”

Azriel landed a kick to Cassian’s shoulder to emphasize the point. He felt the shadows start to twine up his arm and blasted them outward with the siphon on his gauntlet, his laughter coming out in great white puffs amidst the chill.

He loved that Az never held back when they sparred. Sometimes Cassian wondered if he was the only one Azriel felt comfortable going full tilt with, the only one beside Rhys who could take him and not break. Which was why his curiosity spiked hearing of the shadowsinger’s celibacy, wondering if that restraint appeared elsewhere.

“Why not?”

He saw the frozen ground inside Azriel begin to thaw, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he quickly schooled his expression into that blank mask once more. “Don’t do this.”

“No really, why? You’re a good-looking male.” Ducking, Cassian managed to grab Az around the neck, ruffling his hair with a clenched fist like the childhood bully that still lived within him, though there was something else inside it that he ignored . “Do you not know what you’re doing, Azzie?”

Azriel struggled against him, growling his displeasure at the accusation. “Of course I do.”

At last he wriggled free, shadows swarming waspish and angry about his wings, but that fire had returned to his eyes, replacing the cold hollowness. Cassian didn’t quite know what was happening, but a thrill passed through him that had nothing to do with their sparring. There was so much that powerful body was capable of, and he couldn’t help egging Az on as he kicked out at one of his legs, stoking the flames.

“Prove it.”

“Fuck you.”

The shadowsinger’s hair fell elegantly across his face despite the sweat, and Cassian was distracted watching the sway of it, his already loose tongue unraveling more by the second.

“Like you have the balls to. You can’t handle me.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Azriel wouldn’t be able to let a challenge go, that his competitive streak would win over his better judgment every time. And Cassian could admit to himself that a part of him wanted that, wanted to keep making Az flush with rage like that, and so the taunts kept flowing.

“I’d make you cry, pretty boy. I’d have you begging for mercy before I even touched you.”

The next time Azriel came at him there was no restraint, no checking his blows, and they grappled violently, nails scraping against leather, panting breaths heating the space between them. Color bloomed high in the shadowsinger's cheeks, too deep for the cold, the exhertion.

They’d shared many charged glances in the ring over the years, the dances of combat and desire so often a hair’s breadth away from each other. Cassian usually dismissed it as an unavoidable side effect of being close for so long, knowing Azriel’s quirks more than his own. But now something blazed behind each blow and snarl, white-hot and searing, spurring him on.

“And then I’d make you forget your own fucking name.” He rushed forward and tackled Az around the middle, crushing him into the ground. “The only one you’d remember would be mine, and I’d make you scream it over and over and -”

Shadows whipped around them, lashing at his face and arms. Cassian heard a snarl and then the world flipped and he was the one pinned to the ground, face smashed into the dirt with one of Azriel’s hands splayed across his cheek, scars rasping at his stubble.

Another thrill pulsed through him, more urgent than before as he thrashed to free himself, albeit half-heartedly. The shadowsinger paused, looking down between them.

“Cauldron, Cass, are you getting hard?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

But he already knew the answer, could feel the long, hard press of Azriel through his leathers, the erratic beat of the shadowsinger’s heart in time with his own. Cassian grinned as he looked up into Azriel’s expression twisted in fury and something more malleable, consumed by the turbulence in his eyes he knew matched his own.

“Fuck it.”

Azriel yanked him upward and their mouths crashed together, a tangle of teeth and tongues, hands gripping hair and shoulders, their bodies carving symbols in the dirt. It was all so absurd, so surreal that Cassian laughed against Azriel’s lips, causing the latter to bite down on his own.

“Bedroom,” Cassian panted when Az pulled back, and shadows whisked them away in an instant, his back landing on the soft down of a feather bed. Azriel was still straddling him, now ripping at the jacket of his leathers.

“Get this shit off.”

They both fumbled with buckles and clasps that usually took no thought, an indicator of the building fervor, the delirium that captured both of them in its wild, wanton fist. But when their lips met once more there was a tenderness to it that surprised Cassian, the grip of Azriel’s hand on his jaw lighter than it ought to be. 

An understanding passed between them, two people who had hurt others, had been hurt themselves, and didn’t make themselves vulnerable for just fucking anybody.

Cassian’s hand moved slowly to the laces of his pants, giving Az time to decide as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes, frozen ground replaced by smoldering embers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Az’s tongue darted out to trace his lower lip. “Always.”

“Then put your hands on the headboard.”

—

“Things sort of devolved from there,” Cassian finished with a shrug. They’d stayed up all night, only to return to the training ring in the morning clear-headed and casual, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve shared females since then, but never just the two of us. I think we needed to get it out of our systems.”

Nesta had moved from his lap and draped herself across the chaise lounge while he talked, golden brown hair spilling across her shoulders as she removed the pins. She was looking at him now with a kind of hunger in her wintery eyes, one that said she was picturing herself as the female they shared. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are.. Close.”

“Alright you minx, reel it back in. I don’t know if I’m ready to share you yet.”

“If that’s all I think I can live with it. At least it wasn’t Rhysand,” she said airily as she stood, and he followed her down the hall like a bird chasing the breeze, borne forth by the power she held over him. His thoughts were all a jumble - he couldn’t lie, but he had to, but then she’d be pissed, but she might be more pissed by the truth.

By the time they reached their room, all he managed was a noise like a seagull being strangled, followed by a weak, “Well..”

Cassian bought himself time shucking off his boots and tucking them in the wardrobe, trying to temper the onslaught of memories, the edges fuzzy from liquor and time. When he summoned the courage to emerge Nesta was naked, which was great, but also glaring at him over one shoulder, blue-gray flashing like a stormy sea, which was decidedly less great. 

“Cassian. Are you kidding?”

He sighed, accepting his fate as he rid himself of his shirt and trousers. “Look, it was a long time ago, I was young and drunk and curious. Shit happens.”

Nesta gave a disdainful hm! and stepped down into their giant bathtub, a cruel swish of her hips for emphasis.

“So you just accidentally came on to both your best friends on separate occasions because shit happens.”

“Yes.” He splashed into the fragrant water with much less grace and wrapped her in his arms, drawing a shriek. “Only I didn’t start it this time.”

—

He was finally sitting down, mercifully, miraculously, at rest for one godsdamn moment.

The last month had been one of the most brutal of Cassian’s life, the constant drilling, the endless training as they prepared for war. Now that he’d collapsed like a sack of bones in the armchair before the fire, he didn’t know how he’d remained on his feet so long in the first place.

As if summoned by his weariness, Rhys strolled into the house a few moments later, Windhaven’s harsh winter air sneaking in behind him. Cassian ruffled his wings and shot a dark look over his shoulder, not even bothering with a greeting.

“Close the fucking door.”

“In a bad mood, darling?” Rhys drawled, the aristocratic glide of his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as the lordling divested himself of his traveling cloak. “I’ve just the thing to soothe your troubled heart.”

He produced a bottle of deep purple mulberry moonshine, a delicacy of Spring. It was impossible to get with the embargo on the southern court, though Cassian suspected Rhys’ stupid blond friend probably had a hand in supplying it.

He ignored the spike of jealousy, ascribing it to the headache now pounding somewhere behind his eye, and accepted the proffered glass without another word.

They drained the bottle for the better part of the evening, talking shit and one-upping each other, the ease of conversation helping Cassian relax until he’d sunk low in his chair, legs splayed long across the floor. Azriel was gone on a mission for the High Lord, and so they enjoyed the rare time just the two of them, perhaps the last time for a while. They’d all be shipped off to their individual assignments soon, and though it wasn’t confirmed Cassian knew they’d be separated, far-flung across Prythian in a way they hadn’t been since the Blood Rite.

Which was why he’d been pissed when Rhys brought a female home last night, shattering the images he’d had of sharing a meal together, drinking before the fire just like this.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Rhys asked casually, and Cassian scowled at him as his cheeks heated in a way he hoped was camouflaged by the flush of alcohol.

He’d heard them fucking in the night, woken to the creak of the bedframe, hushed moans and whispers drifting over him like a warm breeze. Rhys was going down on her from the sound of it, and very successfully if the female’s growing abandon was anything to go by. Even in his mortification Cassian had let one of his hands edge lower, biting the pillow to muffle his own labored breaths.

The memory made his arousal flare even now, loosened as he was by booze and easy company. When he looked up Rhys was smirking at him, a daring twinkle in his inconstant violet eyes.

“If you’re reading my mind I’m going to throw your bed out the window.”

Rhys’ smirk deepened. “That’s fine. I’ll just climb in with you.”

“Like I’d let you within ten wingspans of my bed.”

“You seemed fairly open to it when you were touching yourself under the covers.”

Cassian tried to ignore the spike of wanting at the words, instead downing the rest of his glass before he set it on the table with feigned nonchalance. Rhys stood and circled around the back of his chair, and Cassian assumed he was going to retrieve another bottle until he felt strong hands begin to knead the muscle at his shoulder, where his wings connected to his back. That touch-starved part of him that never got enough affection sparked alive, that wanted to both shy away from the contact and lean into its promise desperately.

“I don’t mind, for the record. We both knew. And we both liked it,” Rhys assured him. A sharp pain tore through Cassian’s neck before he could answer, Rhys following the tendon with a gentle thumb. “Gods but you’re tense. You’ve worried yourself into knots, darling.”

They were silent for a while, and Cassian let himself surrender to the pressure of Rhys’ hands, mind drifting back toward the night before as the tension seeped out of him. He had been curious about how Rhys had made the female moan like that, though at the time he’d thought for purely academic purposes. Now he felt a stirring below, curious in an entirely different way.

“Well if you ever change your tune, you’re welcome to pull back the covers and join in,” Rhys said breezily after a long slug of his own drink. “Have you ever had a male before, Cassian?” 

“No. Have you?”

Rhys hummed in confirmation behind him. “It’s not so different, you know.”

He felt Rhys’ hands roaming lower, slipping under his shirt to stroke at his chest, long fingers running through the thatch of curls at the center. Cassian’s whole body went hot, and he warred against the impulse to give in, still not sure if Rhys was sincere or just fucking with him.

“You fuck anything that moves, so I’m not sure how much weight that holds.”

It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it - Rhys was an undeniably handsome male, and even though he didn’t typically lean that way there was something comforting about the familiarity, the trust. The hands continued their path downward, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“I have a very talented tongue, I’ve been told. Seems wrong not to share my gifts.”

“What a public service, lordling." Cassian was surprised by the gravel in his own voice, the building desire thick and heavy on his tongue. "Your subjects are truly grateful.”

“What can I say? I live to serve.”

Cassian hissed as fingers grazed his waistband. The rush of alcohol in his veins was making him feel bold, and Rhys certainly appeared on board, but the old twinge lingered, the unspoken rule.

“Are you sure about this? I mean I’m flattered, obviously, but after everything that happened with Mor I assumed we were all off-limits.”

Rhys’ hands stilled, pulling away from him. “Do you still feel guilty about that?”

“Of course I do,” Cassian murmured even as felt the loss of contact acutely, the part of him that wanted to take what was being offered, to let down his wall of self-sufficiency and be the cared for instead of the carer.

Soft lips pressed against his head, an apology somewhere inside it though neither spoke it aloud. Rhys rounded the chair to stand before the fire, a contemplative air about him.

“You work so hard, Cass, you show up for all of us without a moment’s hesitation. I know you’d die for me, but do you know I’d live in Hel for you?” When Rhys looked back Cassian saw the desire in his own eyes reflected along with something deeper, a wish to be connected, to give. “It’s not wrong to let someone else take over for a while.”

Then Rhys stepped close again and lowered to his knees on the threadbare rug, and Cassian forgot how to string a sentence together, how to breathe.

“Just relax. Let me take care of this for you.”

Deft fingers unlaced his trousers, relieving the ache only the slightest bit, which was somehow worse because Cassian was aware of just how turned on he was, how much he wanted Rhys to keep going. He ran a hand through Rhys’ blue-black hair without thinking, earning a satisfied smirk.

Then his breathing went ragged as the world swirled down to the space between them, the closing gap, before he was nothing but white-hot sensation, gripping the arms of the chair to stay tethered to reality.

“Oh, Mother, fuck that feels good.”

“Told you I'm talented."

—

“And then I went to sleep, and we never talked about it again.”

Nesta had flung an arm over her eyes as she listened, sprawled across the bed now in surrender to the images pouring through her mind.

“Just like that. Just casual oral sex between friends. I can never look him in the eye again, but I also can't wait for him to know that I know. Oh no, and Feyre? Is it my obligation to tell my baby sister that our husbands have..? Please tell me that's it."

Cassian couldn’t help but smile despite his mortification as his wife peeked out from under her arm, assessing. For all Nesta’s dramatics he knew she was listening carefully, holding space for him the way she always had. Her jokes were never aimed to wound, but rather to show him that she could handle whatever he gave her, that she wasn’t afraid of who he was and who he’d been.

“That’s mostly it.”

“Cassian.”

“Look, we’re already here.” He passed her the slice of cake the House dropped onto the nightstand, hoping some sugar might help the bitter pill go down. “I might as well tell you about Amren.”

“Amren?!”

—

There was only one bed.

Cassian had faced monsters, undead creatures, yet nothing in his two hundred years of life compared to the terror he felt staring at that single, solitary bed.

“Why have you stopped?” demanded Amren. “Did you forget how to walk through a door?”

Rhys had sent them near their southern border with Day, their first mission together since Amren’s appointment to the court. They were supposed to retrieve an enchanted mirror guarded by a cantankerous cyclops and his herd of mammoths, had been waylaid by a huge storm that blew in from the west that made flying impossible. But the warrior in Cassian was more worried about the volatile creature in the tavern attic with him now, despite her markedly smaller stature.

“I don’t even think we could share the bed.” He cast a glance around at the rest of the room, which didn’t take long considering how fucking tiny it was, the sharp cant of the roof. “You're small enough to fit in the chair if you curl up like a cat.”

Amren grew impatient with him blocking the door and ducked through the tunnel between his wing and leg to get around him. He shivered when she brushed the edge, grateful the tiny fae was now too busy surveying the room in abject disgust.

“I will not sleep in that chair. I will take the bed, and you can swallow your male pride and sleep on the floor.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

She planted her hands on her hips when she said it, but the positioning was slightly off, unrehearsed as she was from developing her gestures in this body in solitude. The effect of that in juxtaposition with her terrifying mercury eyes and awkward attempt at slang made Cassian burst out laughing. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no way I’m fitting on the floor.”

She didn’t appreciate his words, definitely didn’t appreciate the laughter, but even she could see his point. There was barely enough room for them both to stand, let alone to get his wings in any kind of position that didn’t leave him bent like a broken parasol.

Amren scowled. “Sleep outside then, hang from a tree by your feet or whatever it is your kind do.”

Cassian let the casual cruelty roll over him, used to being looked down on by High Fae. “They’re your kind now, too, you know. You should learn about the people you serve.”

“I know all that I need to, boy,” she snapped. She was ripping through her miniature pack now, searching for something that must’ve sunk to the bottom. “Chiefly that I will sleep here and you will manage elsewhere.”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more than to not share this room, but it’s raining. So you’re stuck with me unless you’d rather I smell like a wet mutt tomorrow.”

Having found what she was looking for, Amren straightened and regarded him over one shoulder, the effect somewhat dampened by the fact she had to crane her neck all the way back at a weird angle to see his face. Cassian felt a nervousness flutter in his stomach, suddenly remembering all she was capable of, what she’d probably have no scruples doing to him. But after a moment she snorted, as if sensing his caution.

“Very well, then.”

She sneered hard enough he thought her face might split before she perched on the edge of the bed and took a swig from a flask, lips coming away ruby.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Cassian said as he removed his own pack, tucking it under the chair she definitely would’ve fit in. Maybe talking about herself would blunt her spikiness, he thought. It always seemed to cheer Rhys up. “What’s with the blood? Is it just for fun or is it part of your whole..” He waved a hand in her direction. “Image. The scary reputation thing.”

“Language has truly declined in the last few millennia. The blood is necessary. That will be the end of your questions.”

The cap of her flask screwed shut of its own accord, metal glinting in the low faelights.

“Fine, fuck. Just trying to be friendly. Do they not do that where you’re from?”

She fixed him with that eerie silver stare that promised the separation of his balls from the rest of him. “Enough. Questions.”

He took her seriously this time, darting from the room when she started pulling out her sleep clothes.

After scarfing down a serviceable meal in the tavern below, Cassian felt the tiredness settle over him like smoke, making his brain fuggy. Amren turned away from him when he returned, and he peeled off his wet leathers with as much modesty as the small room allowed, not wanting to chance asking her to step out. He could shield most of his body with his wings from the back anyway, but he felt her piercing eyes on him, the air charged with something he couldn’t quite place. At first he thought he’d pissed her off further, and was prepared to do some half-hearted groveling when a cold finger traced down the edge of his wing, making him yelp.

“Mother fuck, a little warning?”

He twisted to see Amren right behind him with her pinky raised, the blood red nail tipping it talon-sharp. “I heard these wings were sensitive.”

“Yeah, and it’s also considered pretty fucking rude to touch them without asking,” Cassian choked out when she reached up again, still reeling from the aftershocks of the unanticipated touch. Her eyes swirled like a midwinter squall.

“It was your suggestion I learn about my people.”

He knew she could scent his arousal from the feline smile that spread across her face, that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“But you look delicious.”

He couldn’t tell if that meant she wanted to bed him or drain him dry, though neither made sense, nor did the way she knew how to touch his wings that made a fierce hunger spark within him. While it was true he hadn’t slept with anyone in a while, barely anyone outside Illyria really got it right. He suppressed a shudder, heard her sardonic chuckle. 

“My power is in the blood. The flow, the pressure,” Amren said, and Cassian understood as he felt his blood rush south at her words, even as the purr of her voice wrapped around his neck like a noose. “It bends to my will.”

“Careful,” he managed, holding back a groan. “That’s my favorite part.”

Sharp nails tapped on the outer bone of his wing, making him shudder in earnest this time. “I’d have guessed it would be this.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. This was spiraling and he was quickly losing what little ability he had to make tactical decisions. “Maybe this isn’t such a -”

“Shall I stop?”

“NO. No.” His body screamed in protest at the suggestion, and though Rhys would likely kill him for this it was too good,  “Let’s just agree that as of tomorrow, this never happened,” he panted, and when he turned Amren was grinning at him, maybe the first real smile he’d seen her make, just the briefest flash before she pounced. 

It was a whirlwind from that moment on, and he didn’t remember much save for the way she loomed over him, somehow larger than she had any right to be. The blood whizzed through his brain, making him delirious but it felt fucking incredible, like slamming back a shot of pure lifeforce. Amren’s hands danced over his wings expertly, making him see double, so that he didn’t even think to ask how she knew just how to touch them until he was splayed on the floor with his legs under the bed, more thoroughly wrung out than he’d been in decades.

“I had wings once, before I came to your world.”

Perhaps it was the naivety of the afterglow, but Cassian was surprised by the crack that formed in his heart as she said it, the pain that lingered there. She’d been right earlier - his wings were his favorite part, a constant connection to his homeland, his freedom.

“Do you miss them?”

“Every day.”

He lifted a hand to brush back the raven hair that had fallen across her face, but she smacked him away savagely, pushing off his chest to her feet. His head swam as she towered over him, hands on her hips correctly this time.

“It seems you fit on the floor after all, so I’ll be taking the bed. And if you ever speak of this to anyone,” Amren shook the flask, grinning with all her teeth. “I’ll make a special vintage out of you.”

—

Nesta was laughing hysterically now, silver tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so glad my misery is funny to you.” Cassian crossed his arms and his mate immediately reached over to uncross them, crawling to sit astride him so he couldn’t close off again. 

“Oh my. Oh. This is..” She took his face in her hands, pressed a kiss to his furrowed brow as her laughter ebbed. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you better.”

She brushed her nose against his, gentler now, a gesture that everything was okay. “You know, it does make me feel better in a way. That there wasn’t anything special about Morrigan, because this is just who you are.”

“What, an idiot?”

“No,” she assured him, stifling the laugh that still wanted to bubble forth. “Open to opportunity.”

“I guess so? I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Nesta lay against him in answer, resting her head on his chest. He took the opportunity to run his fingers through her curtain of hair, and she hummed when he scratched lightly at her scalp, holding him tighter.

“As long as you’re faithful to me now and you’ve never slept with one of my sisters, I don’t much care. You haven’t, right?

“No way, sweetheart. Promise.”

He felt her smile against his skin, the corner of it quirked in a way he knew meant she was scheming over something, or else setting a trap. ”So…” she breathed, her tone full of courtier’s dodginess. “Who was the best?”

“You, of course.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She sat up and glared at him, though he saw the lightness in her eyes, the zing of excitement pulsing under her skin. “You opened this door, you can’t blame me for wanting to walk through it. Answer.”

“Fine. Az was the best. Hands down. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I have an opportunity you might be open to.”

Nesta dug one hand into his hair, the other tracing a line from the hollow of his throat to where their bodies connected and Cassian knew he was fucked, knew she’d do everything she could to outshine those memories, to make hers the only body that lived in his mind.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that was already true, though his motives were not entirely selfless as she slipped her night dress over her head, and they twined for hours with unbridled glee, pausing every now and then for Nesta to fall apart with laughter.

---

Me: I’m gonna write fun silly smut! Also me: *drags out the saddest fucking background info to justify it* And you can pry pansexual switch king Cassian from my cold ass dead ass hands. Also think this may be the first Amren/Cassian fic ever. Is this my legacy? Oh god.

[five-miles-over]

For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 4: Kitty Makes Three

(Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader)

Click here for Chapter 3: Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm

Summary: Your husband comes home from work, and he's brought someone new.

Warnings: None, really. Fluff and allusion to smut

"Loki…" You reached behind him and fished a stack of letters out of the mailbox. Among them were a few frivolous catalogs for home and gardening goods, a magazine that proudly advertised gourmet gifts of chocolate, salted nuts, and cheeses, and a few letters inviting Loki - or rather Mr. Laufeyson - to apply for a credit card. You closed the door behind Loki and turned the lock.

The sounds of the evening news floated from the living room television into the hallway…Something about a variant being caught and pruned, identified only by a serial code that you'd never remember. Loki let the kitten jump out of his arms, freeing them so he could give you a hug and a gentle kiss on the lips. His arms encircled your shoulders, the smell of rainwater mingled with the faint smell of sweat becoming apparent as he held you close to him. "My beautiful bride…" He whispered your name with relief in his voice before hugging you again. 

You couldn't help but put your arms around him, letting yourself be comforted by the embrace. Standing on the tips of your toes, you pushed some of his dark hair back. "I've got dinner on the table. Why don't you…wash your hands?" You added, "Darling?"

Loki pecked your cheek before removing his TVA jacket and placing it on a hook. "Absolutely." While Loki turned on the water and rinsed the mud off his fingertips, the black kitten cantered towards you, looking up with curious yellow-green eyes. 

You knelt down, your smile disappearing as you extended your hand out. "Hello…" The kitten stopped moving for a moment, and then nuzzled against your fingertips, moving her nose to smell you. She meowed, revealing a set of tiny yet sharp teeth. "Although she be little, she is fierce," you breathed, amazed by how docile this kitten seemed despite having such striking features. You began to pet the kitten's head, watching her close her eyes and purr.

"She likes you." Loki remarked with a smirk, exiting the bathroom with a few buttons of his white shirt undone. He crossed his arms and chuckled, leaning against a wall. 

You looked up. "Where did you find her?"

"At work." Loki remarked. When you asked him what exactly he does for a living, he simply said that it's classified, and that he's been recruited to do some work for the agency that protects a Sacred Timeline. "Let's eat, darling. The smell of your cooking is whetting my appetite." 

"Of course." Reluctantly moving your hand away from the kitten, you followed Loki into the dining area, where you'd already set dinner for two. "Do you think it'd be alright if I opened a can of tuna for the…?" The black kitten meowed before you could finish.

With a shrug, Loki opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses: one for you, and one for him. "I thought of naming her Sylvie."

Taking the tuna from the pantry, you opened the can. placing it in front of the kitten. She opened her mouth and shook her tail as a little 'thank you'. Then, she took a mouthful of the tuna and chewed it. "Good girl…" You stroked her head once again. 

Loki dryly chuckled. "You know, when I tried to call her that, she almost scratched me."

"Maybe she was just getting used to you." 

The God of Mischief graciously pulled the chair for you before you sat across from him at the table. "This all looks amazing…Almost made me think it was our anniversary, which I know it won't be for another nine months, two weeks, and three days." Loki served himself a large helping of spaghetti bolognese using a pair of tongs. Before you could even ask if he wanted some cheese grated on top of his food, he already shoveled a mouthful inside. He closed his eyes and moaned, still for a moment before looking at you. "Darling, this is really good." Loki swallows, his fork immediately twirling around the spaghetti for a second mouthful. 

"I'm really glad you like it." Watching Sylvie enjoy her tuna from the corner of your eye, you began to eat as well, helping yourself to bites of salad and spaghetti. Not bad, you thought to yourself. Though if you were being honest, much of the taste came from simply watching Loki - yes, Loki your husband - relish every morsel of the dinner you prepared for him. "I'm impressed with how much you remember about our wedding." You let out a small laugh before sipping from your wine glass. "A lot of men tend to forget things like this…Or at least that's what I've heard."

"I'm not like most men." Loki winked. "I thought I made that quite clear on our wedding night. But…maybe you need a reminder, pretty bride." He slurped his spaghetti, leaving a spot of sauce staining the corner of his lip.

You looked down, laughing a little more. "Sylvie can hear you!"

"She'll get used to it."

You and Loki continued to eat while the television in the living room served as background noise. You could hear the cheers and the upbeat music coming from some kind of game show, but it didn't really spark your interest. You were more fascinating by how Loki finished his spaghetti, gulped his wine, and after serving himself another heap of spaghetti, served himself a few spoonfuls of your cucumber salad. You loved the way he dabbed his mouth clean with the napkin after every two or three bites, how he ate the remaining sauce with a spoon after all the noodles were finished, and how he ate his salad one piece at a time. So he'd feed himself a piece of cucumber, and then a piece of onion or tomato, followed by another piece of cucumber. Call it novelty if you will, but there was something…entertaining about watching your husband eat, and learning every little nuance of his. 

"How was your day?" Loki asked you after a while, wiping his mouth yet again.

You swallowed a mouthful of salad. "Good. Joyce Hazeldine stopped by with her son Bill."

His eyebrows rose for a moment. "What for?"

"She wanted to visit, see us after the honeymoon. What do you think about having her and her husband at our house for dinner sometime this week?" You casually asked, looking up at Loki. 

"Only if Bill comes," Loki chuckled. "Still remember how he was the youngest of my groomsmen. The only one who couldn't come to the bache-" He smiles before correcting himself. "The pre-wedding celebrations, I mean. How is he?"

You shook your head at your husband's mischief. "Not too well. He broke up with his girlfriend."

"Jewel? Good riddance. I remember her grabbing the microphone at our wedding and singing "Like a Virgin" just so she could have everyone know that Bill was the one who…erm, took her innocence."

Eyes wide, your jaw dropped. "What?"

"How can you not remember that?" He laughed while spearing his fork into a piece of tomato. "She even put on a veil while singing."

"And you didn't stop her?" "Darling." Loki ate the piece of tomato on his fork. "It was more fun to watch her crash and burn in her own embarrassment."

You couldn't hold back your laughter, dropping your fork to cover your mouth. "You're so bad!"

He smirked, leaning closer, his blue eyes darker with cunning. "It's why you married me, right?"

"And because of your money." You quipped, relieved to see him laugh in response. After a few moments, you gathered yourself. God, he was so handsome in the candlelight, how were you just noticing the way his eyes glimmered? The way his cheekbones shone and his dark curls fell perfectly in place with no effort? "Loki, I... " Before you could finish, Sylvie purred against your leg. Looking down, you gently scratched her head. "I think she's done with her dinner."

"So am I." Loki rose from the table and put his empty plate into the sink, his eyes on you while you threw Sylvie's empty can of tuna in the garbage and cleared the table. Pleased to find almost no leftovers of spaghetti, you put the remaining cucumber salad into a little Tupperware container destined for the fridge. But just as you leaned forward to blow the candles out, you felt Loki's breath tickle your ear. "Not yet, darling," he whispered. 

"No?"

"Not. Yet."

You continued to clear the table, putting the dirty dishes in the sink. As for Sylvie, she trotted into the living room and curled at the foot of the couch, yawning before stroking herself with her paw. She lazily eyed the television, which featured a recorded performance of a lean country singer wearing an all-white ensemble, holding a guitar in his hands. He grinned at the audience, announcing the title of the song he wanted to sing for them tonight. 

While the music played, you poured some soap onto a sponge and started scrubbing the stains from the silverware. While you lathered the plates with foam and bubbles, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Loki pressed a kiss behind your ear, swaying with you in time with the song.

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cookin' somethin' up with me?

Hey, sweet baby - don't you think maybe

We can find us a brand new recipe?

"I'm done cooking for the night," you laughed, rinsing the soap.

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill

And I know a spot right over the hill

There's soda pop and the dancing's free

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me

Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'?

How's about cooking somethin' up with me?

Loki put the cleaned dishes on the rack, and took your wet hands in his. "Loki, what are you doing?" You teased as he led you to the center of the kitchen, his grin wide from ear to ear. As the fiddle began his solo, your husband held you in his arms and moved side to side in a rhythmic fashion. And then, he twirled you, making the two of you laugh while dancing.

I'm free and ready, so we can go steady

How's about savin' all your time for me?

No more lookin', I know I been tookin'

Hows about keepin' steady company? 

Loki's hand rested on your hip, slowly wandering down. "I never quite understood why, but you always loved Hank Williams's music. Every Wednesday night, his songs would be on television, and you would always have them on."

"He's…he's got a certain charm." You lied before leaning in to kiss the corner of Loki's mouth. "But his charm is nothing compared to yours." 

And that was all that it took for Loki to pull you in for another, deeper kiss filled with devotion as he ran his fingers through your hair. "I love you so much," he murmured against your lips. 

"I love you, Loki." You said it as if it were the easiest thing you could ever say. Earlier this morning, when you first found your wedding photograph with him, the word 'darling' could barely escape your tongue. And now? Saying 'I love you' felt like second nature. You leaned in for a second kiss, breaking away with a gasp when you felt your husband gently squeeze your behind through the fabric of the dress. You exclaimed his name, unable to hold back a smile.

"You're so irresistible…" Loki teased, kissing the tip of your nose. "Please, darling…" His hand continued to stroke your rear, and his lips made their way to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, enticing kisses. "I can't stop myself."

 "I'm all yours tonight…" You sighed before Loki took you by the hand, almost dragging you into the bedroom and closing the door with a slam.

Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness @fandxmslxt69

[lunarmoodboards]

wine and dine knight x dark queen board!

for wine and dine day 4 fantasy!

@wineanddine-week

[h0n3y-b33z]

Happy birthday to the apple twins and I. As my gift for them, they get a story.

Enjoy.

508 years since is was born.

500 of those years I suffered. I was alone. No one had cared. Abused , alone, a folks story people would tell their children.

Why am I still here? Just to suffer? 

"Boss! Open up! We need to eat eventually!" Killer yells through the door to the office, banging his fist on the old wood. 

Damnit Kilz not again-

"boooossss plsssss! Murder isn't letting us eat until you do! Birthday rules or som-" Killer pauses, unfortunately remembering the day. It seems his memory is getting better atleast. Two years he wouldn't remember until Christmas. 

Killer giggles, tugging the handle to the locked door. "oh bossy~! It's ya birthday!” Killer coos, taking his favorite knife out, running his index finger along the edge.

​​​​​​"don't  remind me. Tell everyone I will be downstairs in a moment." The king informs him, rolling off his  bed (which is a fake bookshelf that converts into a bed.)

Nightmare yawns, the balls of his feet hitting the floor and sending a static feeling up his legs and his knees locking. Of course... Two tendrils go to massage his knees and femurs.

This is getting ridiculous... Nightmare mutters to himself, the feeling  in his legs dying down. This was the third time this week. After a few more minutes the pain  is bare able and he stands up and walks to the door. 

No need to change when you slept in your clothes.

In  the dining room the table was set with all of Nightmare's favorite foods and beverages. Wine, coffee, pie, pancakes, turkey dipped in the most mouth watering sauces and other savory things you would expect to see on Gyftmas. Not a birthday.

Killer groans, reaching out for the jerkey that was just out of reach. The result was Murder slapping his hand. "Damnit bunny just let me eaaaat!" Killer whines, his tears staining the vintage wooden table again. Killer was one of the few who had a seat just for him. Furthest from Nightmare where all the silver tear stains are.

"No kitty... We wait for mare mare." Horror says, brushing the fur on his jacket. He needs to look his Saturday best! Killer glares  at Horror, tempted to throw a knife at him. "aint talking  to you wolfki" He mutters, using the insult varient of the brute's nickname.

"c0uld y°u st0p." Error mutters, munching on a chocolate wrapper. 'To get all the chocolate goodness' he told Swap. Which was mostly true. Murder sits still, dissociating from the world.

"gods what do yo- oo wine." Nightmare brings everyone out of their brooding as he sits down at the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of vintage Italian wine and pouring a genorous amount into his birthday mug. 

"Th€ gh0$ts 4®€ back. B33n 4-4n0¥y1ng m3 n0n $t0p" Error complains. Flicking away another pesky floating ded rat. Error is surrounded by floating objects. Plastic knifes and forks, a spatula and a dirty whisk. Error is glitching out alot.

Nightmare looks at the whisk, eye socket narrowing. "you made cake..?" He questions, growling softly at the batter falling to the flour covered floor. "we maDE CAKE?" Killer pipes up, grinning from eye socket to eye socket.

"ye-yes... T-teeth and Enough made it." Horror murmers, picking up his fork and fiddling with a grape in the salad. Murder looks down, a larger shadow casted on his face. Killer shrugs, reaching for the jerkey. Murder slaps his wrist again. "that vegan s[..]t is in the oven." Murder informs, stopping the recently vegan Killer.

"oh." Killer stands up, grabs  his plate and dashes to the kitchen to get his beloved plant based jerkey. Nightmare groans, glaring at the most mentally sane of the grou. "you know I'm not a fan of cake, Murder."  Nightmare says, dishing a healthy amount of turkey onto his plate. Once he finished dishing, Horror and Murder started dishing. Killer returns with his jerkey, mouth watering black ooze.

"hey you started dishing without me!" Killer when's and darts to the table to dish his greens. Who know all it took was a vegan teacher to get the dumbass to eat his fruits and vegetables? Although now he won't eat meat and sh[iz] now...

Goddammit Colour... Why did yo give him access to the internet...?  Nightmare wonders, chewing on his delicious turkey wing. Horror speaks up "It was Aliza's Idea... She's coming over later to celebrate too." Horror informs him. Nightmare stares at him, disbelief and silent disdain on his face. "your daughter... Wishes to celebrate my birthday?" the king questions, gaining another nod from Horror. 

"Dream visit...ed. Brought food. I told him not to work on his birthday. Aliza heard." The brute further explains, mouth full of pie. ​​​​​​Nightmare rolls his eyelight. She shouldn't care. He tells himself. "y0u® g1rlfriend  l3ft 4 l​​​​​​l3t ter. ​​​​​​" Error says, handing a letter with a dusty snake symbol on it. It was the the stamp She made just for him.

She is his equal. His other half. Sure Nightmare is gayer than Icurus, but She is his. He is hers. He smiles softly, opening the envelope. Inside was a letter wishing him, her kraken, happy birthday. Even suggesting a date for the two of them and their little fetaherbaby.

Nightmare smiles, noting that he should write a reply letter later. Possibly arrange a flight to Greece to see his queen. He engulfs the letter in a burning flame of purples and blues. He continues to eat. The food is nice. Just how he likes it...

Maybe my birthday isn't a waste... 

.

.

.

"Oh great guardian! Happy birthday!" 

Again and again, those were the words he heard today. Seemingly a broken record. 

"Great guardian, we need your help!"

That was a sentence he heard almost everyday.

You would think that after the truce Dream would finally be left alone. But nooo. It was great guardian this and great guardian that. It was tiring. He's supposed to be retired!

Dream sighs, getting a snake named Fluffy down from a tree. Lil Fluffy the anaconda slithers into his body, hugging him. Dream knows it is a hug because Fluffy broke his bones once and felt guilty as hell. Dream climbs down, looking down at his recent friend, a 8 year old girl who wears brightly colored hand made punk clothing.

"thank you Lemon Boy!" she says, gently holding her arms out so that Fluffy can slither back to her. Emily is one of the few Dream would want to go out of his way to help. He likes helping her. "no problem little Rockstar! Run off to your parents now, I saw them by the toy  bikes." Dream informs, running his hand down Fluffy's scales.

Maybe I should get a snake... He thinks to himself. The companionship would be nice. Maybe he could get a black mumba! Those get to like 10 feet long, I could raise it from a babe!  Cold things are nice things. The creature would love Dream's body heat. It's naturally high. 

His phone pings. Then another ping. Likely the groupchat again. Wait didn't I mute that-? He thinks to himself, taking out his phone and opening his chats. It was Swap and Lust. His friends. Another ping came when Red and Edge messaged, then another from Cinnimon. All saying happy birthday. Dream smiles at the texts, replying with some difficulty.

The one day I forget my glasses... He sighs and puts his phone away, lazily moving his hand in a circular motion to open a gden glittery portal. He steps through and heads to the lounge, flopping onto the couch with a grunt. 

"Someone's had a bad day." Reaper says, sipping his coffee. Dream lifts his head from the couch, looking up at the bringer of Bad deaths. "no s[..]t Sherlock." He says, catching the hot water bottle thrown at him "f[..]k you Watson." Reaper shots back, stretching his 3 pairs of wings.

"Still wondering why you don't want a private birthday party kid." Reaper informs, putting his mug down and grabbing his scythe, his 6 wings merging into 2. Dream shrugs

Dream says, clutching the water bottle.

Reaper chuckles softly. "awe, my baby boy has grown up since I found him." Reaper coos, checking out the baalde to ensure it is fit for reaping. Although it was never on paper, Reaper adopted Dream after finding him in that abandoned AU the kid o me called home.

He looks up at the demi-godling. "want to come with me for work? My gift." Reaper says, summoning the toy scythe he made for Dream when the child guardian asked for one. Dream looks at the scythe and sighs, stnwifng up with a smile. The scythe was nothing to be scared of, made of dead pyrike (frozen wood) and is smaller than Reaper's, but it means the multiverse to Dream "sure."

Atleast Dream can help people cross over to the underworld instead of silly little things he doesn't like. 

(done. I the colors of their speech thingies represent the soul traits! Although I didn't have YELLOW for Dream. Hope you liked the insight on my UTMV)

[sasdavvero]

sasdavvero Blue Lock Masterlist / Part 1 - Stories Not In A Series

complete masterlist

Part 2 - BLLK Series

I checked the links and they should work, don't hesitate to contact me in case they don't! Last Update: 17/12/2024

2023

Can I?: flashfic, Bachisagi, fluff, first kiss [eng-tumblr post/ita-efp]

How to win someone over in one afternoon: a Guide by Isagi Yoichi: Bachisagi, fluff, slice of life, dates, first kiss [tumblr post/eng/ita-ao3/ita-efp/ita-wattpad]

Wanting, Needing, Having: Completed (17/17) Bachisagi, Underage, Angst & Fluff & Smut [tumblr post/eng]

Shattered Glass Means It's Already Broken (It Doesn't Mean It Can't Be Fixed): Bachisagi, Soulmates AU, angst and fluff [tumblr post/eng/ita-efp/ita-wattpad]

Cheers: flashfic, Bachisagi, first kiss [tumblr post]

The Languages of Soccer: Gen, Crack, Languages mix [tumblr post/eng]

Control: Bachisagi implied, EDNOS, Food Issues [eng]

How To Kiss Someone: The Umpteenth Guide By Isagi Yoichi: Barosagi, Crack, Kissing [eng]

first meeting: Gen, EDNOS, Psych Ward, Isagi & OC (Mai) [eng]

My Liege: Gen, Crack, They/Them for Barou [tumblr post/eng]

Blue Lock Ship Week 2023

Trying: Day 1 - Bachisagi, Confession, happy ending [tumblr post/eng]

Impulse: Day 2 - Bachisagi, First Kiss, Fluff [tumblr post/eng]

How Not To Date: Another Guide By Isagi Yoichi: Day 4 - Bachisagi, fake dating [eng]

How To Help A Bee (And Get A Vampire In Return): Day 6 - Bachisagi Servamp AU [eng]

2024

Not Enough Hands: Isagi Harem (Implied), Crack, Underage Drinking [tumblr post/eng]

Right Where We Left: isagi/hiori/nanase, fluff, set before the BM-PXG match [tumblr post/eng]

you make me feel alive (every time I breathe): Kaisagi Hanahaki AU, implied IsagiHarem and Kaisess, angst, unrequited love [tumblr post/eng]

Cheering: isagi/hiori/nanase, maybe crack, fluff [tumblr post/eng] [Step 0 of Six Steps To Dating (see Part 2)]

Does this count as sex ed?: Implied Isagiharem, crack, condoms mention [eng]

Sleepover: isagi/hiori/nanase, PWP, Threesome [eng]

Try: karasu/hiori, PWP, first time, semi-public sex [eng]

Comfortable: isagi/hiori/nanase, PWP, first time bottoming, Threesome [eng]

Thirst: Lesbians Team Kindness, PWP, Threesome [eng]

Laundry Day: Barou/Isagi, PWP, Bj/Hj [eng]

Wine and Dine: Team Kindness, kinda set after Cheering [eng] [Step 1 of Six Steps To Dating (see part 2)]

Yet Again: Kaisagi / PWP / Spit Kink, Face fucking [eng]

a nessuno importa dei tossici nel parco: Nanase/OC, cw // suicidal thoughts/ideation [ita-ao3/ita-efp]

you can call me what you like (as long as you call me): Nanarin, NSFW, Unrequited Love, Hurt No Comfort [eng]

Transitive Property: Nanarin implied, Crack, Light Angst [eng]

cobalt blue and splashes of gold: Yuu/Issei/Iyo, fluff and light angst, crack treated seriously, CW past character death [tumblr post/eng]

Peace: Isagi/Hiori/Nanase, "love confession", attempt at humor and fluff [eng]

So Damn Cool: Isagi/Hiori/Nanase (implied), Fluff, Light Angst, Self-Doubt [eng]

[lnfours]

Cutest blurb🥺

How about Tom made a handmade gift to Y/n like a scrapbook or a jar something like that and Y/n is like 🥺🥺🫶💓💖💖💞🥹

anon, this is so cute 🥺 sorry i'm just now getting to writing your request, i hope you like it!

cleaning out my inbox 💌

tom wasn't the crafty type. everyone who attended the failed paint and wine knew this. he was terrible at art, couldn't even draw a stick figure if he tried.

and beings you were the crafty type, ever since then he was determined to make you something special and 'cute'. he wanted to give you a gift that wasn't store-bought, he wanted something special to give you. something that came from the bottom of his heart.

so he thought of a brilliant idea, a scrapbook.

he had asked his mom for a few pointers beings she had made baby books for him and his brothers when they were younger. she had given him all the tips and tricks he could think of.

he even took notes.

when his mom said that it'd be nice to include things from dates the two of you had went on, his mind immediately went to the keepsake box that you had at the top of your side of the closet, the one where you kept all the photo-booth strips, restaurant receipts, movie and event tickets, everything you could possibly ever think of.

and of course he had asked you if it was okay if he went through the box, wanting to get your approval on what to take and what not to take. you were a little confused as to what he was planning.

"just go through the box and pick," you smiled, "but, can i ask why?"

he grabbed the box from the top shelf before humming back at you as you laid on the bed, "mmm, no reason. just wanna look through. maybe it'd be cute if we put together a collage and hung it up in a picture frame or something."

you furrowed your eyebrows, thankful he couldn't see your confused expression, "yeah, sounds good, babe."

and for the next few nights when you'd wander up to bed to read a few chapters of your book before falling asleep, he'd stay downstairs. in the dimly lit dining room, rummaging through the tickets and photos, picking out how he wanted each page to look. he had even made a special trip to the craft store earlier that morning to pick out stickers, fancy markers and pens, the glue dot runner his mom suggested for the photos and tickets, scrapbook paper, and designed washi tape.

he was excited to get to work. he was even more excited to see your reaction to the finished project.

and after a week and a half, and many 'is this good?' texts to his mom, the scrapbook was completed. just in enough time for your anniversary.

he had ran out and got flowers and your favorite candy to give to you along with his handmade gift. the two of you always kept it simple on your anniversary, beings it was in the middle of valentine's day and his birthday.

when you got home, he was eager to give you your gift. you laughed as he basically ran to you as you opened the door when you got home from work.

"hey," you laughed, "eager to see me?"

"always," he smiled, kissing your forehead sweetly, "come on, i've got a surprise for you."

you didn't even have time to kick off your heels before he was dragging you into the kitchen. he smiled as your eyes landed on the scrapbook, flowers, and candy. immediately 'aww'ing at his gesture.

"aww, tom," you cooed, grabbing the scrapbook from the island, "this is adorable."

the smile never left his face as you flipped through the pages, each page being a different date that the two of you went on. he had made special pages for the tickets you saved to each of the marvel movie premiers you two had gone to together. he even had the pictures he had taken on his phone of the two of you printed out so he could stick them on the spider-man scrapbook paper.

yes, he paid $15 for spider-man scrapbook paper.

the last page of the scrapbook paper was white, lace trimming on the top and bottom. you read the letters over and over again, taking in the detail. there was a diamond ring sticker, along with 4 words in white and black block letters:

'will you marry me?'

you turned to see him on one knee, smiling up at you. you laughed softly, closing the book and putting it back on the island. your vision became blurry the longer you looked at him as he sat on one knee.

"will you marry me, darling?"

you smiled, immediately nodding your head, "do you even have to ask?"

he chuckled, standing as he slipped the ring onto your finger, "is that a yes?"

you leaned up and kissed him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. his cheeks were warm as you took in the smell of his cologne and after shave. it smelled like home.

"a million times yes." you smiled, nose rubbing against his before he leaned back down and kissed you again.

"my fiancée sounds a lot better than girlfriend, huh?" he smiled, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from your face.

"couldn't have said it better myself."