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coldkidcookieneck · 1 month ago

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Title: Collateral Attraction

Summary: A stupid dare. A locked house. A very armed, very grumpy Frank Benson. She was supposed to run, not come back for coffee.

Author's note: Hi, my dear readers! This is my very first Frank Benson story, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy the chaotic tension, awkward flirting, and soft banter as much as I did! Please let me know what you think 😉

Pairing: Frank Benson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Language and Mild Violence

Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 here

Cross posted on AO3

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Your living room smelled like takeout, cheap rosé, and candle wax from the third failed attempt to light the "Happy Birthday" sparkler cake. Streamers clung to the ceiling fan like casualties of war, and glitter was everywhere — a sure sign that your best friends, Chloe, Liam, and Amanda, had taken over décor duty.

“You’re officially 22,” Chloe declared, handing you your third slice of pizza like it was your birthright. “Time to do something legendary before the night’s over.”

“Legendary how?” you asked, wiping sauce off your chin.

Chloe’s grin was pure chaos. “Truth or dare.”

You barely had time to protest before everyone was already sitting cross-legged on the floor, drinks in hand, the tension building like a bad horror score. The first few rounds were harmless: someone drank hot sauce, another admitted to kissing their cousin’s boyfriend. Then it was your turn again.

“Dare,” you said, full of birthday bravado.

Chloe’s eyes gleamed. “I dare you… to sneak into General Frank Benson’s house and get out again. Without him noticing.”

The room froze.

Even the playlist paused like Spotify itself whispered: “Girl, no.”

“You’re joking,” you blinked, halfway between laughing and throwing your pizza.

Amanda screeched, “That’s a literal suicide mission! Have you seen that man? He probably sleeps with a bayonet under his pillow!”

Liam leaned forward, solemn as a war general. “Then I’ll command the mission. You’re my agent. I’ll be in your ear. Like the hot ones in spy movies.”

Chloe held up her hand like she was swearing into Congress. “Five hundred dollars if you do it.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore.

You glanced toward the window — at the looming Victorian next door, shrouded in shadow and pulsing with generational trauma. That was his house. Everyone in the neighborhood knew it: the fortress of General Frank Benson — retired military legend, silver-haired menace, living scarecrow of your childhood.

You’d been afraid of him since you were six. Literally.

Your parents used to weaponize his existence like bedtime folklore.

“If you don’t get home by curfew, the General will snatch you and ship you off to boot camp!” “Don’t run off — Frank Benson might put you in a tank and roll you into a battlefield!”

One Halloween, you dared to ring his doorbell.

He didn’t answer.

But the porch light flickered on.

You screamed so loud you peed a little and ran home with your witch’s hat falling off.

Since then, even walking past his house made you clutch your mom’s hand and whisper apologies to the wind.

But now?

You were older. Bolder. And… just the tiniest bit intrigued.

Especially after the annual neighborhood committee meeting a few months back — the first he’d attended in years.

You remembered it too clearly. He’d walked in wearing a sharp black coat, silver hair slicked back, eyes cold and assessing like he was planning battle formations. He barely spoke — but when he did, his voice was low and gravelly and cut through the chatter like a bullet through glass.

And something inside you shifted.

You weren’t afraid anymore.

You were… fascinated.

And maybe, okay, kind of into the whole grumpy, emotionally disturbed war-daddy thing.

“Come on,” Chloe was saying now, waving her phone like a stopwatch. “He’s probably not even home. Just sneak in, sneak out. Easy. We’ll be waiting by the back gate with your victory pizza slice.”

Amanda looked like she was going to throw up from secondhand panic. “If she gets arrested, I’m not bailing her out. But I will organize a candlelight vigil.”

Liam saluted dramatically. “For honor. For glory. For the birthday girl.”

Your heart pounded. Your brain screamed are you serious, but your ego — freshly 22, slightly tipsy, and painfully susceptible to peer pressure — just whispered:

Let’s do it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, pushing off the couch and finishing your wine like it was armor. “But if I get court-martialed, I’m haunting all of you forever.”

Chloe whooped. “Operation: Birthday Break-In is a GO!”

“Okay, squad. Stick to the plan. Eyes sharp. Feet quiet. Asses low.”

Liam crouched behind the overgrown rhododendron bush like he was auditioning for Mission Impossible- Suburban Edition, holding a plastic cup of wine like it was a grenade. Amanda was huddled beside him, just out of sight from Frank Benson’s back fence.

Chloe, ever your partner in crime, adjusted her hoodie like she was going to war. “I swear if I die out here, I want ‘Dare Queen’ on my gravestone.”

“I’m already designing the shirt,” Amanda whispered, pulling out her phone to record. “You two are legends in the making. If this goes viral, I want credit.”

You glared at her, “If this goes to prison, I want a decent lawyer.”

Everyone else chuckled nervously. The stakes were stupidly low and yet wildly high. You peeked past the bush.

Frank Benson’s house loomed at the end of the yard — tall, dark, dignified. A once-white Victorian that had surrendered to time: ivy clung to its brick like secrets, and its turreted attic window glared down at the street like a silent sentry. The back of the house had a small porch with a flickering light and two steps leading down to a mossy stone path. Two gnarled oak trees flanked the yard like bodyguards.

You could see three windows on the ground floor: one half-open, one shut tight, and one obscured by heavy drapes.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Liam said, dragging a stick through the dirt like a military strategist. “You two — that’s you, birthday girl, and Chloe — take the side gate, sneak across the back yard, and go through the half-open window. It’s probably the kitchen. You go in, sneak to the other side of the house, and come out through the sunroom window on the east side. That’s the one facing the hedge. We’ll be posted there with flashlights and pizza, ready to pull you out and declare victory.”

“Simple enough,” Chloe muttered, tying her hair up. “Break in, sneak across, break out. No blood, no alarms.”

“Exactly,” Amanda said, filming you in selfie-mode now. “Tonight’s forecast: 30% chance of arrest, 70% chance of glory. Let’s go.”

You inhaled sharply. The house looked still. No lights in the upstairs windows. No movement.

“Alright,” you said, pulse quickening. “Let’s do this.”

The gate creaked as you and Chloe slipped through, then padded silently across the dew-covered grass. You both wore black hoodies and sneakers, looking like the worst-dressed spies imaginable. You paused at the half-open window.

Chloe gave it a gentle push. It opened with a soft screeetch.

You winced.

“…That sounded like a horror movie door,” she whispered.

“Keep going,” you hissed, heart hammering.

The kitchen was exactly what you imagined Frank Benson’s kitchen would look like: neat, cold, and full of sharp corners. The countertops were spotless. The lights were off. There was a kettle on the stove — black and steel — and a single mug next to it, like he was halfway into making tea for one.

You stepped inside first, Chloe right behind you. Your feet made the faintest sound on the tile. You both paused, eyes wide.

Nothing.

Just the faint tick… tick… of an old grandfather clock somewhere deeper in the house.

“Alright,” Chloe breathed. “East side window. Let’s move.”

You crept through the kitchen and into a narrow hallway with wooden floors. On your right was a darkened sitting room, all leather armchairs and old bookshelves. On your left was what looked like a dining room, table polished, a lone set of dog tags resting on the center dish. You glanced at them — initials etched in metal. F.B.

Your stomach twisted. You felt like an intruder.

Because you were.

“Chloe,” you whispered. “I think we should—”

You didn’t finish the sentence.

Because you tripped on the edge of the hallway rug.

Your foot slipped.

You fell like a plank of wood.

Chloe toppled after you, landing hard on your back with a loud thump.

You both froze.

Tick… tick…

Creaaaak.

There was a sound from upstairs.

A door opened.

Floorboards groaned under heavy footsteps.

Then — light.

A hallway light flicked on.

And footsteps began descending the staircase fast.

“OH MY GOD!” Chloe hissed, jumping off you and scrambling toward the sunroom.

“I found the exit, hurry up!” she cried, pulling open a window.

You staggered up, adrenaline surging.

But it was too late.

A shadow lunged down the stairs, and before you could reach the exit, a strong hand grabbed your arm, spun you around, and slammed you down on the floor with a practiced, efficient force.

You yelped, wind knocked from your lungs.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” a voice barked.

It was gravel and thunder, and it made the air vibrate.

The figure above you slammed the sunroom window shut with one hand, blocking Chloe’s exit route as she screamed your name from outside.

He turned on the light.

And there he was.

General Frank Benson.

Silver-haired, towering, broad-shouldered in a black t-shirt and loose sweatpants — but somehow still looking like he could command a battalion. His jaw was clenched, eyes sharp and full of fury. There was a glint of something silver in his hand — a gun. Not pointed at you, but very, very present.

You blinked up at him, stunned into silence, face flushed from the fall, the fear, the fact that he was... ridiculously hot in this lighting.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled. “And what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

You gulped, lips trembling, and scrambled to explain.

“Sir—it was a dare! A stupid $500 birthday dare! I swear, I didn’t mean any harm—my friends dared me to sneak in and out—I didn’t even think you were home—I tripped—Chloe—Chloe was supposed to—”

He glared at you, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning your face like a threat assessment.

“...A dare?” he repeated, incredulous. “You break into my house... for five hundred bloody dollars?!”

Frank Benson was halfway through pouring himself a cup of Earl Grey when he heard it.

Thump.

His entire body froze.

He didn’t move — not at first. Years in combat zones taught him that reacting too soon was how you got killed. First came the listen. Then came the lock.

He strained his ears. There it was again. A scrape. A muffled whisper. Someone — two someones — moving in his home.

His jaw tightened. The mug was already back on the counter, untouched.

He moved.

Fast. Silent. Lethal.

A shadow ghosting up from the kitchen to the hallway. His left hand grabbed the pistol off the console drawer near the stairs — muscle memory. His right flicked on the light in a single fluid motion as he descended the staircase in three thunderous steps.

Footsteps.Too light for a grown man.Maybe teens. Maybe a weapon. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter — unknown is a threat until proven otherwise.

He saw movement in the hallway and bolted forward — years of force recon training kicking in. His body moved before his brain could catch up.

Target. Two. Female. Not armed. One tripped. Second, trying to run—

He grabbed the first — you — and brought you down with a sharp twist of the arm and shoulder, pinning you hard but careful, just enough pressure to restrain without crush.

You yelped.

The girl in the hoodie outside screamed and fumbled at the sunroom window.

He snapped it shut with one arm, blocking her escape route, then pointed the gun not at you, but toward the floor — visible. A warning. His voice followed, deep and sharp like thunder cracking open the sky:

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Your eyes were wide, terrified, blinking up at him like prey caught in headlights.

No weapon. No mask. Just panic. Not a threat. Not yet.

He exhaled slow, steadied the beast inside.

“Who the hell are you,” he growled, “and what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

You stammered, breath shaking. "Sir—it was a dare! A stupid $500 birthday dare! I swear, I didn’t mean any harm—my friends dared me to sneak in and out—I didn’t even think you were home—I tripped—Chloe—Chloe was supposed to—”

Frank stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

A fucking dare? Jesus Christ.

“You break into my house... for five hundred bloody dollars?!”

You nodded weakly.

He scoffed, the sound sharp as flint. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your neck. What kind of idiot thinks sneaking into a veteran’s home is a good idea?! You’re lucky I didn’t assume you were a threat and react accordingly.”

God, where do they grow kids like this? Is idiocy contagious?

You opened your mouth again, but he raised a finger — commanding silence.

“And you,” he barked toward the window. “Get your friend back here before I call every emergency service this side of the state line.”

Chloe let out a terrified squeak from outside.

“I—I—sorry!!” she stammered, stumbling back in through the front door, looking white as a sheet.

Frank looked between you and Chloe, eyes narrowing, jaw grinding. Then… something shifted.

His posture eased. Not soft, but no longer a threat.

“You’re the kid that used to hide behind your mum whenever I walked past,” he said slowly.

Your eyes widened. “You remember that?”

He chuckled — a low, rasping sound, like a car engine after too long in the cold. “Hard to forget a child who screamed like she saw a ghost every Halloween.”

Of course, I remember. You were the little,wide-eyed thing who used to cry if you saw me in uniform. Your mum once said they used me as a bedtime threat — ‘Come home before dark or General Benson will send you to boot camp.’ Bloody hell. I’ve become the neighbourhood bogeyman.

“I—um—I guess I did…”

He stood straighter, lowering the gun to his side — no longer threat-mode, but still on edge.

“So now you’re all grown up and sneaking around my yard,” he muttered, giving you a long, appraising look.

You’re not a kid anymore. That much is obvious. Hair’s longer. Lips trembling. That’s a woman’s jacket, not a school uniform. Goddamn. She’s trembling like I’m going to arrest her. I should. But hell, if this isn’t the most excitement I’ve had in months.

Then your next words caught him off guard.

“I… I saw you at the committee meeting.”

You blushed fiercely, gaze darting away. “I… I saw you at the committee meeting.”

He blinked once. Twice.

Ah. That’s it.

Not a dare. Not really. Curiosity. Maybe something more.

Shit. He shouldn’t let that twist of intrigue hit him. But there it was.

He gave a small smirk. Nothing warm — just sharp. Teasing. Testing.

“Well,” he muttered, holstering the gun, “if you wanted to know what’s inside my house so badly… next time just knock. Like a normal bloody person.”

You stared. Then let out a weak, nervous laugh.

Chloe looked like she wanted to disappear into the nearest plant.

Frank folded his arms. “Tell your friends you managed to ‘escape’ through the back window. Go get your prize money. And get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

You hesitated, still rattled. Your gaze flicked to the door. But Frank was watching you closely now.

Your flushed cheeks. Your parted lips. The way your chest rose and fell in the silence.

She’s not a kid anymore. That realisation sank in like cold water down the back of his neck. Christ, I shouldn’t even be thinking that.

He paused.

Then, quieter: “...Happy birthday, by the way.”

Your head whipped up. “How did you—?”

He lifted a brow. “You think I don’t know what the neighborhood kids are up to? Liam and Amanda aren’t exactly CIA material.”

He turned and walked back into the shadows of the hallway, the light fading behind him.

And you were left standing there in his kitchen, adrenaline still high, heart pounding, and the terrifying realisation that the man you once feared… now occupied a very different corner of your imagination.

You and Chloe locked eyes—both pale, panting, done.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered.

You didn’t answer. You were already running.

You ran like hell.

Straight out the side gate, heart hammering, hair sticking to your forehead, lungs burning like a bonfire lit under your ribs. You didn’t even realize your knees were scraped until your friends came sprinting from the alleyway, cheering like lunatics.

“YOU SURVIVED!”

“Oh my god, she did it!”

“You better have filmed it, Chloe—wait, where’s Chloe?”

Chloe came jogging a moment later, wheezing. “He looked at me and I panicked! Like—retired general death glare level ten!”

You wheezed out a breathless laugh-slash-sob and stumbled into Amanda’s arms, who immediately started shaking you like a maraca.

“YOU LEGEND!! YOU JUST EARNED FIVE. HUNDRED. DOLLARS. Do you know how many bubble teas that is?!”

Liam tossed a hoodie over your shoulders like it was a medal of honor.

“General Frank Freaking Benson. The man who made our dads stand up straighter at neighborhood barbecues. You just walked into his den and LIVED. What was it like? What did he say? Did you get a peek at his kitchen? Was it cold and terrifying? Did he say anything like, ‘You have 10 seconds to explain before I neutralize you’?”

You stared at them, still breathless, trying to piece together the shock and the adrenaline and the very real fact that you had just been pinned down by Frank Benson’s arms, and that he had remembered you, and that he had said—

“…Happy birthday, by the way.”

Inside the house, Frank stood at the second-floor window.

Lights off.

Curtains parted.

Just him, silently watching the gaggle of chaotic teens erupt into hugs and fist bumps and high-fives.

Idiots, he thought. No sense of danger. No sense of consequences.Except her.

His eyes found you — standing just slightly apart from the group, hand still hovering near your arm where he’d grabbed you, eyes a little far-off. Processing.

He felt it in his chest. A sharp, quiet pull.

She looked at me like I was a monster. But now... not quite.That’s the look someone gives when the monster turns out to be a man.

He frowned.

Backed away from the window.

She’ll stay away now. They always do.Good. Better that way.

He turned, heading for the stairs.

So why the hell am I still standing here thinking about her?

You’re still catching your breath when Chloe grabs your arm like a human grappling hook.

“Say nothing about the gun. Just look cool. Say you Mission: Impossible’d your way in and out. Got it?”

You nod. Kind of.

Back at the house, your friends are waiting with pizza crumbs, half-filled cups, and $500 in a cereal box because apparently Liam thought that was “stealthy.”

“SO?”

“Did you do it?”

“Did you survive General Doom himself?!”

You glance at Chloe.

She does the tiniest nod.

And you go full Bond Girl.

“Yeah. Slipped in through the side window, skirted the dining room, ducked when I heard footsteps. Almost got caught. But didn’t.”

The group goes feral.

Liam throws the $500 at you like confetti. Amanda screams into a pillow. Someone cranks up music again and shoves a slice of pizza into your mouth mid-laugh.

Only Chloe sees how you keep glancing out the window.

The Next Morning

You knocked on his door at 8:13 a.m.

Why?

Because you couldn’t sleep.

Because your guilt was loud.

Because something about him—his voice, his eyes, the way he hadn’t yelled just to yell—was still stuck to your skin like aftershave.

The door opened a sliver, and there he was.

Sleep-ruffled hair. T-shirt and sweats. No weapon in sight, just an eyebrow raised like a challenge.

“You again,” he said flatly.

“I—um—just wanted to say thank you. For not calling the police. Or yelling louder. Or shooting.”

Frank stared at you.

Then let out a breath that sounded like half a laugh, half a groan.

“You’re here to say thank you for trespassing?”

You winced. “Also to tell you that I got the $500.”

His eyes narrowed. “And that’s supposed to impress me?”

You grinned. “No. I was thinking I could treat you to something. As an apology-slash-celebration. Coffee? Bagels? Explosives?”

A beat.

Then Frank opened the door a little wider and leaned against the frame.

“You really think I’d let a little idiot like you buy me breakfast?”

You shrugged. “I mean, you tackled me. So I figure we’re close now.”

He smirked. A very dangerous, very warm smirk.

“…Next time,” he said, “let me be the gentleman.”

Your heart may have actually skipped.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, and shut the door again.

But not before giving you one last glance—measured, curious, not entirely annoyed.

You walked home lighter.

Still scraped, still bruised, still $500 richer.

But also—

Something had started.

You just didn’t know what yet.

He leaned against the door after it closed, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

That damn kid. That crooked grin. That stupid, reckless heart.

He should’ve been furious. Still could be. But instead...

He sighed.

“…Coffee,” he muttered to himself. “God help me.”

Then he went to put on real pants.

EPILOGUE

Local Café | Two Days Later

The coffee shop smelled like cinnamon, burnt espresso, and bad decisions.

You sat across from him, two mugs between you. Yours was adorned with whimsical doodles and the phrase “Espresso Yourself.” His was a plain, no-nonsense black ceramic mug. Classic.

You stirred your latte three times before sipping. “So...General, do you come here often, or only when you’re guilt-tripped by teenage gremlins who trespass on your property?”

Frank raised an eyebrow over his coffee. “I’m still deciding if this is penance or a government experiment.”

You smirked.

He came. He actually showed up. On time, no less. He still looks like a man who has backup plans for backup plans. But his jacket’s unzipped. His hair’s still a little windblown. He looks… less like a warning label. More like a question mark. And I’m not sure if I want the answer or the chase.

He didn’t smile. Not exactly. But his eyes? They didn’t look away.

She’s nervous. She’s trying not to show it, but she is. And yet she’s here. After everything. After the fence hop, the bruises, the chaos. She sat down across from me like it wasn’t a death wish. Like maybe… she wanted to. Idiot kid. Brave kid. Dammit.

A beat passed. Then you slid your phone across the table. The lock screen was a screenshot of your bank app. $500.00. Still untouched.

“Proof I haven’t spent the blood money yet,” you said.

Frank leaned back, arms crossed. “Didn’t say you had to keep it.”

You tilted your head. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He huffed—something between a scoff and a laugh. “Troublemaker.”

You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

And for the briefest moment, in the lazy warmth of a café too small to hold this much tension, something softened. Not broken. Just… bent. In a good way.

Two mugs.

One look.

No promises.

Just the beginning of something slightly stupid.

But maybe… worth it.

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#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #frank benson #frank benson x reader #eye in the sky

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604to647 · 2 years ago

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Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑

Ch. 15 (The BBQ) 🚑

Ch. 16 (The Matchup) 🚑

Ch. 17 (The Preparations) 🚑

Ch. 18 (The Threat) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹 Inspo

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)❤️‍🩹

Ch. 21 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 22 (The Long Road to Forgiveness) 🚑 vibes

The Epilogue

Art

Dog walk (@kenobiwanx commission 🙏🏻)

Bedtime (@pinkiemme Ch. 11A commission 🥹) 🚑

101 Dalmations Inspired new! (@dazzlingjedi Epilogue commission 😍)

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline as noted 😊

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10) (Link to the Lingerie set)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12) Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🚑

Birthday Bunny 🚑 (HBD P! 🥳) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Gouda Girl (Happy Pedro Hours Challenge) (set before Ch. 19 or after Ch. 22 but before The Epilogue)

The Craft Market (takes place after The Epilogue) new!

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Young boxer Din inspo

Rotta Hutt face cast, I guess 😂

Pretty Bird’s IG

Another Valentine’s Day 💕

Where’s My Wife inspo

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern au #no y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #smut with feelings #fluff and smut #fluff and angst

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delicatebarness · 1 year ago

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The Barnes-Rogers Family Adventures | Pizza Party ft. Uncle Sam #003

Summary: Uncle Sam comes to take care of the littles for the evening, breaking the only rules Steve and Bucky put in place.

Warnings: This post and series are safe for work (SFW) regressions. Nothing explicit. However, please be aware that the rest of my blog is NOT. NSFW accounts are welcome to read and reblog, but please keep all comments SFW out of consideration for other littles.

Word Count: 772

Series Masterlist

A/N: It took me the whole runtime of Monster High to write this one. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | Let me know if you want to be tagged specifically for this series.

Steve and Bucky were excited about their long overdue date night. With work at the compound, keeping up with your and Peter’s busy schedules, and everyday life… they hadn’t had a chance to go out just the two of them in ages. However, tonight, they were leaving you and Peter in the capable hands of Uncle Sam.

Steve had given Sam strict instructions– No pizza for dinner, and definitely, no staying up late. Sam had nodded, promising to follow the rules.

Sam’s grin widened as soon as Steve and Bucky left. “Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Who wants pizza?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as he bounced on his toes. “Me, me!” he squealed, while you raised your hand enthusiastically.

Pulling out his phone, Sam ordered the biggest pizza on the app and added all your favorite toppings. “And you know what? Let’s have a movie night too,” he suggested as he grabbed the remote. “What do you troublemakers want to watch?”

“Monster High!” you mumbled under your pacifier, clutching your Frankie Stein doll.

“Star Wars!” Peter countered, his eyes shining with excitement.

Sam laughed, playing shaking his head at the two of you. “How about… we start with Monster High, and then we can watch Star Wars?” he proposed.

You and Peter looked at each other, a silent conversation between you both before you turned to Sam simultaneously and agreed. Then, before you knew it, the living room was filled with the sound of giggles and animated monsters.

The pizza arrived shortly after, and you all dug in, making a mess of your faces, clothes, and the coffee table.

Bedtime came and went as the hours passed. Still full of energy, you and Peter bounced around the living room pretending to be Jedi masters while Sam watched with amusement. Noticing the time, he knew Steve and Bucky wouldn’t be thrilled but he loved seeing you two happy and having fun.

The front door opened with a creak as Steve and Bucky walked in. Freezing in the doorway, they took in the scene before them. Pizza boxes are scattered across the floor, and the TV playing Star Wars, and you and Peter jumping on the couch.

“Sam,” Steve’s stern voice boomed across the room causing you all to freeze in your place. “We had one rule.”

Sam grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t say no, look at them!” he explained.

Shaking his head, Bucky chuckled. “Alright, you two, it’s way past your bedtime,” he said as he walked over, scooping you up in his arms. “Time to get ready for bed.”

“But Daddy, we’re not tired!” you began to protest, although a yawn escaped halfway through your sentence.

Steve shook his head as Peter opened his mouth to join the protest. “No arguments, say goodnight to Uncle Sam, and then you’re both going to bed.”

You pouted, rubbing your eyes sleepily. “Night night, Uncle Sam,” you mumbled, placing a pacifier kiss on his cheek.

Giving Sam a quick hug, Peter flashed a mischievous grin. “Thanks for the pizza and movies, Uncle Sam!” he exclaimed, still full of energy despite the late hour.

Ruffling Peter’s hair, Sam smiled. “Anytime, buddy. Sleep tight, you two,” he said, giving Steve and Bucky a knowing look.

Nodding, Steve tried to hide a smile as he ushered the two of you toward the stairs. “Let’s get you tucked in,” he said gently, guiding you up to your rooms, Bucky following close behind.

Once in your room, Bucky helped you into your pajamas. Steve did the same for Peter in his room. Yawning again, you felt the tiredness catching up to you after the evening’s excitement.

“Papa, can we stay up just for a little longer?” Peter asked Steve hopefully, giving him his best puppy-dog eyes.

Shaking his head, Steve sighed. “Nice try, buddy. It’s already way past bedtime,” he said, tucking Peter into bed.

Bucky was finishing tucking you in, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Time to sleep, Baby. Do you want Wolfie?” he asked softly, reaching over to your plushies.

Snuggling into your blankets, you nodded sleepily. “Please, Daddy,” you murmured, reaching out with grabby hands.

Steve and Bucky did one last round of goodnight kisses before turning off the lights and quietly closing the doors. They left you and Peter to drift off to sleep after being worn out from excitement.

Downstairs, Sam had begun tidying the living room. Stacking the pizza boxes and turning off the TV as he smiled to himself. He was grateful that you all trusted him enough to be the fun Uncle and have these fun nights with you.

---

Series Masterlist

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lightlycareless · 5 months ago

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I finally got it out of my system but omg you do not know how much it took me to write this, like??? I wanted but words simply did not come out. I feel burnt outtttttt :( it must be stress.

Anyways, I still hope you enjoy it.

warnings: none. fluff. you have a baby girl with naoya but what's new? and before anyone comes for me he is REFORMED hahahahah 🙈🙈🙈

Happy reading!

Imagine your and Naomi’s first slumber party. Obviously, everything you do with her is special, your highlight of the day, but this particular event stood out from the rest.

Firstly, because you got to see your adorable baby’s reaction to things she’s never seen before, or more like try out such as manicures, pedicures, make-up, and her favorite: press on nails.

The endless possibilities with such when it comes to designs are enough to keep Naomi thrilled, though she always goes with Hello Kitty.

And secondly, because of a surprise you have prepared for the end of the night; but for now…

“Mama, I want that one please!!” she gasped enthusiastically, not wanting to miss the opportunity to decorate her nails with her beloved cat. “Please mama!!”

“Of course, dumpling. I got them solely for you!” You grin, glad to see your baby having a good time.

“Can you also do my make up?” she quietly asks, as if afraid you’d tell her no. When in reality you had long prepared for this request; it was no secret to you how fascinated Naomi was with you whenever getting ready, rushing to your side as soon as you approached the vanity table so she could see all the magic that entailed makeup.

Luckily, that mystery was to end now.

“Do I look pretty like you mama?” Naomi asks, causing you to coo.

“Oh, even prettier!” you gush, taking her into your arms and kissing her flushed cheeks.

“No mama, you’re pretty!” she counters. “Like a princess!”

“Stop it, mochi. You’re going to make me cry…”

“No crying, only smiles!” Naomi insisted, making you giggle.

“Alright, I won’t cry. Now, do you want to do my makeup?”

Naomi gasps.

“Can I??”

“Of course! It’s what you do in slumber parties!”

Naomi undoubtedly has the time of her life trying out all the things she always wanted to do with your makeup, careless of her inexperience, if she knew which colors matched well with other or what would make your features stand out, because in her mind, she was already the best! Just as you continuously encouraged her.

From there, the rest of the night continued on by watching movies and eating your and her favorite snacks—mochi. Naomi was nothing short of a delighted ray of sunshine before these treats, giddily enjoying all of the things that’s she’s normally limited on: like endless snacks and of course, a child’s ultimate defiance! A thing that totally made her close to being a grown up…

Staying up past her bedtime.

However, your darling pumpkin, not being used to doing that, quickly succumbed to slumber just after the first movie ended, though it might be because her overexcitement for the whole ordeal exhausted her more than usual.

And while it wasn’t necessarily in your plans, the sight of her breathing peacefully underneath the warm covers made you smile, the natural response to a successful, fun night.

“She’s completely knocked out, isn’t she?” Mariya, who came in to check on you before eventually staying around after Naomi begged her to, noted. You giggle.

“Yeah, my poor baby, but sometimes it seems she’s unable to stop, you know?” you jest, gently caressing Naomi’s tummy. “She’s growing so fast; I wish she would stay small a little longer…”

“I think it might be time for the second one.” Mariya teases, you blush.

“Oh, shut up…” you murmur, she laughs.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’ve thought about it, but… well, Naoya and I rarely have time to ourselves now that he’s of a higher rank, so I don’t know how that’s going to happen.” You lament.

“Hmmm… but it seems to me you always make the best out of it, don’t you? Naoya always leaves the estate with a smile that implies satisfaction, after all.” you turn bright red.

“Mariya!”

“I’m just teasing you, Y/N.” She smiles, you laugh along. “But now that we’re talking about it… I guess it doesn’t hurt to say that Naomi-chan sometimes asks me if she’s ever going to have a little brother or sister to play with.”

“Really?” you breathed, she nods.

“Yeah; it’s not frequent but, you know, she has her moments.” Mariya recounts, carefully one of Naomi’s hair locks behind her ear. Such a beautiful angel, she wonders if she’ll ever have her own.

“I’d like a boy.” You confess. “To have a set, as many say. Can you imagine? Another baby that looks just like Naoya! Though whatever we end up having is fine by me, really. To have a family is a blessing by itself.”

“And Naoya? Has he told you what he would like?”

“No, but I’m sure he’d like another girl, no matter how much he tries to deny it.” Because you’ve seen it through how gentle and doting he is with your baby.

How he’s always asking for her every time he’s away, not a single second is she out his mind… and with how Naomi calls for him too, constantly asking you if her papa is to return soon, because even to her videocalls and gifts are not enough to ease her unbearable yearning.

Oh, how you miss him.

Thankfully, your pleads would no longer continue unattended when a servant suddenly knocks on your door to brief you of the event you’ve been eagerly waiting for; immediately glancing at Mariya who gives you an encouraging nod in return, as if letting you know Naomi will be ok, before standing up and heading towards the exit.

To the arms of your melancholic husband whose face lights up as soon as his eyes land on you. A homesick man that was glad to finally be back home.

“Naoya! Oh, Naoya, you’re back.” You breathe, quick to embrace him and press your face against his chest, hiding your tears between his clothes.

Normally, he would’ve teased you for your reaction, make his best to cheer you up, but in the wake of months of absence, all Naoya could do is take your presence even deeper into his soul, hoping that he wouldn’t succumb to his own tears either as he tries to imprint your warmth, your scent, your love into his body to never forget.

“I missed you.” You confess, Naoya kisses the top of your head. “I can’t believe you’re here! It—it almost seems like a dream…!”

“I know. I can’t believe I’m here either, after so long…” Naoya responds, hugging you tighter. “But I am, and I missed you too, so much.”

“Please tell me you’re not leaving soon; you just came back.” You plead, looking up to him with that teary, dreadful look that always made his heart tighten.

More so if he knows he’s to disappoint you.

“I…Y/N—”

“No, you’re right. We don’t have to talk about that right now.” You shake your head, putting aside the sour thought of his departure for another time. Right now… “All that it matters is that you’re home. With us. With me.”

“Where’s Naomi? I wish to see her, if it’s not too late of course.” Naoya smiles, you giggle.

“Actually, there was something I was planning to do for you that involved her, but I think I failed.”

“Let me guess, you tried keeping her awake to see me?” He rightfully assesses, you nod.

“Yeah, I planned a whole slumber party to do so, but, well, you know how our baby is. She gets too excited and then, she passes out!”

Naoya laughs, his heart warming up at these small moments he missed dearly. Thankfully, he’s now able to partake in them once more.

“But she’ll still be excited to see you in the morning nonetheless.” You add before grabbing his hand and guiding him to your shared bedroom, where your precious angel slept. “Come now, I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer!”

And it takes great effort for Naoya to not cry at the sight of his baby girl soundly sleeping in his bed, though he is unable to resist joining her, carefully laying by her side as you joined him soon after, resting your face on his chest, where home is.

“You did her nails?” He notes at her small, clenched fist. Naoya wishes to hold it but decides against it in fear of waking her up.

“Yeah, do you like them?” you smile. “I did mine too—we can do yours later if you’d like.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Naoya smirks.

“I wholeheartedly believe you’d look good with black nails.” You affirm.

“No better than inside you.”

“Naoya!” you playfully smack him, a noise that inadvertently wakes up your small dumpling up.

“Ma…ma?” Naomi’s soft voice makes you and Naoya’s breath hitch to their throat, keeping still as she seems to appear unaware of her papa’s presence, as seen in the following question. “Is papa home yet…?”

To know that her first waking thought is to wonder about her father makes your heart soar, and unable to keep her in the dark any longer, you rush to give her the good news—

Only for Naoya to stop you, planning instead to unveil the surprise tomorrow morning, just when all the gifts he got for her were set to arrive.

A splendid moment to signify his official return he wishes to conduct perfectly, happy to finally be back home, in the presence of his two beloved.

His loving family Naoya would do anything in the world to protect.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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tessa-liam · 15 days ago

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Boys Will Be Boys

Brothers-in-Arms Series - Chapter 2

Choices Books: The Royal Romance, pre-book 1 (cross-over with Choices, Crimes of Passion, pre-book 1)

Pairing: None

Characters: Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Eleanor Rys, Trystan Thorne

Rating: Teen

Warning: swearing, alcohol/drug use

Category: angst/fluff, alternate universe

Words: 1200, not Beta’d, please excuse all errors

Brothers-in-Arms Masterlist

A/N: My submission for #choices bejeweled, June monthly challenge 2025

Summary: Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Leo, and Trystan are at the Royal Mountain Retreat in the Blackspine Mountains of Cordonia. The firepit is crackling, s'mores are toasting , and ... the discussion turns to ???

Trystan snorted like he’d just heard the dumbest thing in royal history. “Wait, you didn’t even kiss her?”

“No, Sherlock.”

Trystan looked at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “Are you broken?”

Leo sighed dramatically, running his fingers through hair. “It just didn’t feel right.”

“What does that even mean? Did she have spinach in her teeth? Were you under surveillance by your dead relative?”

Leo groaned. “I mean emotionally, you emotionally stunted goat. I actually want to get to know her first.”

Trystan blinked. “Since when do you feel things?”

Leo glanced at Liam and the middle-school brigade (aka Liam, Drake, and Maxwell), who were busy arguing over whether dragons or space pirates would win in a fight.

“Let’s move this convo. I can’t have my twelve-year-old brother psychoanalyzing me again.”

They walked quickly to the lake, not forgetting their beers, and flopped onto a bench.

Trystan: “So, spill. You like her, but you didn’t kiss her because... you have morals now?”

Leo: “I just want it to mean something. She’s not like the girls who throw themselves at every bloody event.”

Trystan smirked. “Let me guess. It’s because of Madeleine.”

Leo punched him—not hard - but with enough force to make a statement.

“Ow! Dude! I need that arm for fencing and styling my hair!”

Leo grinned. “Would you prefer a push into the lake? It’s about six degrees Celsius in there.”

Trystan massaged his arm, still offended. “You Cordonians are violent.”

Leo wiggled his eyebrows. “Okay, enough about me. Spill it—who’s your secret admirer?”

Trystan sighed dramatically. “Her name’s Julianna. We’ve been friends for years, but lately… she’s gotten… interesting.”

Leo looked amused. “Like, ‘I suddenly noticed she’s 'hot’ interesting, or ‘she no longer chews with her mouth open’ interesting?”

Trystan laughed. “Both. She’s shy, which is weirdly adorable. Like a kitten that punches you in the heart.”

Leo smirked. “That doesn’t sound like your type. You usually like the loud, terrifying ones.”

“I know! But I want to take care of her, you know? Like... be the guy who shows her how to have fun.”

Leo gave a smug grin. “Oh, I bet you want to show her lots of fun.”

Trystan punched him back. “Don’t make me drown you, Romeo.”

Leo: “So? Is it happening? Are you two gonna ride off into the hormonal sunset?”

Trystan: “Maybe. Depends on what she wants. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

Leo: “Patience. How royal of you.”

They headed back to the firepit, where Liam, Drake, and Maxwell were still deep in their existential debate.

Leo: “You guys ready to head to the cottage? It’s past your royal bedtimes.”

Liam, brushing dirt off his pants and stood up, “Yeah. I gotta prep for tomorrow.”

As Liam walked off, Maxwell leaned in to Drake. “Hey, Li never answered your question.”

“Yeah, and now he’s gone, and I still don’t know what happened to the crown!” Drake looked agitated.

Maxwell grinned wickedly. “Dude. You seriously don’t remember?”

Drake looked like he was already regretting his life choices. “No. Should I?”

Maxwell burst into laughter, trying to suppress it and failing spectacularly. He collapsed onto the ground in a heap of giggles.

Drake groaned. “Why do you always do this? Can’t you just tell me what happened?”

Maxwell tried to look innocent. “What? You mean now?”

“Yes, now!”

Maxwell shrugged. “Nah. It’s more fun this way.”

Drake stomped off. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, buddy!” Maxwell called after him, still giggling.

Inside the Cottage – Later That Night

The royal mountain cottage was rustic-chic mixed with royal finery —stone fireplace crackling, oversized velvet couches, and expensive portraits and accessories.

Leo flopped dramatically onto a couch, nearly knocking over a tray of imported herbal teas. Trystan settled into the armchair with a grunt and a handful of shortbread cookies, which he had clearly stolen from a diplomatic gift basket.

“I’m serious,” Leo said suddenly, turning to him with a look that was one part scheming and two parts big-brother mischief. “Next time we’re in Paris… I’m going to make a man out of Liam.”

Trystan choked on his cookie. “What?!” he coughed. “What does that even mean? You’re not sending him to the Foreign Legion!”

Leo grinned. “No! I mean, like… take him out. Show him the world. Teach him the arts of charm, confidence, maybe get him a nice haircut that doesn’t look like it was done with a medieval sword.”

Trystan raised an eyebrow. “So… your plan is to drag a twelve-year-old around Paris and sprinkle him with cologne until women swoon?”

Leo shrugged. “Exactly.”

“Leo, you do realize Paris is full of croissants and chaos. Liam’s idea of a good time is still building Lego castles and quoting Star Wars.”

“Which is exactly why he needs me. Paris will change him.”

“Into what? A pretentious art critic with a beret and a heartbreak playlist?”

Leo leaned back smugly. “Into a gentleman. A Casanova. A future king who knows how to hold a wine glass and a conversation.”

Trystan shook his head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

Leo wagged a finger. “Unbelievably effective.”

"Wait ... wait ... a future king? Trystan looks at Leo.

Just then, a loud thud echoed from upstairs, followed by Maxwell’s voice yelling, “Drake! I swear if you farted in my room again, I will smother you with a decorative pillow!”

Trystan looked toward the ceiling. “Yeah. Definitely ready for Paris.”

Leo grinned. “Not those two, just my Prince Mini-Me.”

☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆

☆ @choicesficwriterscreations

☆ @choicesmonthlychallenge

☆ @choicescommunityevents

● my perma-tags: @beau1811 @bascmve01 @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @lovingchoices14 @alj4890 @busywoman @bardic-tales @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @delmissesryanandcassi @selina012 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

●Brothers-in-Arms @walkerdrakewalker

#tessa liam writes #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #choicesbejeweled #brothers in arms #liam rys #leo rys #trystan thorne #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #choices fic writers creations #choices monthly challenge #choices community events

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midnight-mourning · 9 months ago

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DCA Promptober Day 11: Naptime

Y'all had your fun, now it's back to business. This goes from 0 to 100 real fast so please pay attention to the content warning, also adding a read more just in case.

Word count: 956

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, child death, reader descresion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It's naptime, and you're not asleep.

Oh, how you would be if you could. How you so desperately wish that you could. You stand no chance at reaching the light switch. No chance at saving the day. The only thing you can do is sit crowded in a hidden corner of the play structure with the few kids you could grab. Like a coward. Arms tightly around them to try and shield them as best you can from the danger lurking outside.

You think, hope, pray, that some of them are actually asleep out there. That they didn't get woken up by the screams of the children who happened to wake up. The others though, god the others, you can't, you won't-these kids need you. Need you to be brave, need you to protect them. You don't think you can.

One of them makes a small whimper, you near silently shush her, pulling her more into your chest so if she sobs, it'll be muffled. She clings to you tightly, and you suppress a wince. The wound across your chest thankfully isn't deep, but it hurt, and you had no way to stop the bleeding currently.

You had felt your entire world shut down at that moment. Witness everything come plummeting down so suddenly. Instead of not being able to look away from a car crash, you were experiencing the crash. And it hurt.

You blame yourself, even if someone else would argue it's not your fault. You didn't know. Hell, you don't think even Sun knew. Is he even okay? Is he gone too? Not until it happened. Not until you turned off the lights.

"Alright," You turn, watching as Moon appears, "Everybody's down for the count, they're pretty exhausted from freeze tag so we should have an easy go of it. In the meantime, I found my copy of The Princess Bride, I say we find a good vantage point and get a couple chapters in. What do you say to that?"

No response. He just stares at you.

This has been happening sometimes lately, you think it may just be a delay in the switch. You know he's been self-conscious about it, so you try to make light of it.

You make a radio noise with your mouth, "Cht. Earth to Moon-man. This is mission control, requesting cuddles and story-time while on the job. Do you copy?"

Something clicks.

"Ye-yes, yes, let's... do that," He shakes his head, seeming, groggy.

You giggle quietly, "Are you sure you don't need a nap, sleepy head?"

It takes another second, you swear you see his optics flash another color before he shakes his head again, chuckling.

"Not at all," He offers his hand to you, "Shall we?"

You grin to yourself, doing your best to contain your excitement. You've been waiting for ages to get into this book with him. Not to mention spending unrestricted one-on-one time.

You take it, feeling a rush once the two of you start flying through the air.

From there, things are good. Great even. You and Moon are able to get through the prologue and first chapter or so. The problem arises when suddenly, the power goes out to the rest of the Plex.

You look up, instinctively putting a hand on the arm Moon has around you, "What's going on?"

"I'm, not sure."

The sudden lack of noise rouses one of the kids, he sits up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.

"Ah, shoot, Morgan's up. Here, help me down and I'll-" You're suddenly cold as Moon abruptly stands up, jumping down from the play structure without a word.

Confused, you follow after him, taking a nearby slide.

You walk over to where he towers over the boy-not his usual routine for these things that should have been your first clue-and get there in time to overhear;

"It's past your bedtime."

That's, not his usual voice. Well, it is. But there's something off about it.

Morgan notices too, he looks a bit frightened by the gravely sound.

Moon's faceplate tilts to the side, "Naughty children must be punished."

It's then that you think to look down to his hand where, when did he get claws. Why would Moon ever need claws, that kind of upgrade is only for Monty or Freddy-

He's raising his hand, Morgan is cowering. You need to move.

Without thinking, you dash in between the two, arms out wide to shield the child behind you.

Moon hesitates, stuttering, glitching, but his hands slices across your chest all the same.

Morgan screams, you hiss at the pain. Moon suddenly disappears into the dark above the Daycare. And kids start to wake up.

Everything from there is a blur. You remembering panicking, trying to calm down crying kids. your chest being on fire, and then everything suddenly getting ten times worse.

You still don't know what's going on out there. Out in the rest of the Plex. You don't know why no one has come to check on you all, come to save you, nobody's going to save you, just done something. But you have no way of reaching out. No way of getting out of here either. For now, you have to survive. You have to. You have to try.

You become aware of someone looking at you before you actually see the light crawl across the floor before landing on you and the backs of the kids.

Your grip becomes firmer, face more determined, as the sound of bells gets closer and closer. You take a deep breath, and steel your gaze to look at him.

Red eyes face yours on the other side of the plastic cage.

It's naptime. And you're not asleep.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Wow man, I was uh, yeah I don't know where this came from. Oof. Angst AND horror. My b guys. ANYWHO Three promptobers in a day, my writing brain is BACK baby (it has been gone for several weeks bc of sinusitis, but I'll talk about that more in the CS ch. 35 update) The other promptobers I've done are here if you haven't seen them already. The previous ones haven’t been as intense horror-wise as this so if you're looking for something a little chiller I would suggest giving them a try. Thanks for reading!

#my brain really chose violence with this one #my goodness #and by violence I mean in the story AND against you all #sorry that just seems to happen when I'm eepy #3 PROMPTOBERS 1 AUTHOR 1 DAY BABYYYY #part of day 9 was done yesterday but besides that #all done in the same 24 hour span 😤😤😤#and now I SLEEP #dcatober24 #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #dca fic #x reader #cw injury #cw blood #midnight mutterings

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fleckcmscott · 4 months ago

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The Morning After

Summary: Yesterday was a bombshell. Arthur reflects on what's changed and how much has stayed the same.

Words: 2,322

Warnings: Adult situation

A/N: After the serious themes of my last piece (and with the world on fire 🚬), I wanted to write something fluffy and fun, a slice of sweet escape. I hope you all enjoy! My pen is slower at the moment but still going. Thank you for reading and your continued support! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Morning's soft pastels brightened the room, tempting Arthur towards a wakefulness he wasn't quite ready for. He winced against it. Curled his knuckles under his pillow. Burrowed deeper into the bedspread, a final bid to return to dreamland.

But a sharp snort sounded from behind him, and his whole body grinned.

He turned towards Y/N and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Half past seven proved she'd neglected to set the alarm; she was due in the office by nine. He really should rouse her. Put on coffee and pack her lunch, a salad and peanut butter and jelly.

Yet, he found he couldn't interrupt the paradise of sleeping with her. Of sleeping with his wife.

A run to city hall had been a far cry from his imaginings. He'd pictured them in a stone chapel, with Y/N in a stylish white dress and himself in a three-piece suit, pledging their undying love before a priest and an altar. Wafers and incense and a kiss sanctioned by saints.

Though he'd abandoned Catholicism as a kid whose prayers made everything worse, its trappings had a theatricality that appealed to the performer in him. Carried a tradition that meant he belonged.

But he didn't mind missing that, not now. She'd promised they'd have a wedding, and he believed her. This reality was far better than living in his fantasies, for when he reached for her, she stayed in his grasp. With that vow, he could be ready for anything.

He reached towards her now, smoothed stray strands from her forehead. Too giddy to take a deep breath and relax, she'd been up late, far past her normal bedtime of 11:30 PM. She'd called Patricia to let her in on the good news and accepted an invitation for a double date at Bamonte's on Wednesday - tonight - to celebrate.

He'd lingered by the kitchen entrance, head pressed to the wall to listen in.

"He makes me so happy, Patricia," Y/N had said, voice softening to a sigh. "I couldn't love him more."

Cheeks stretched to bursting, his lips strained with overwhelming joy. When she'd called her little sister, and Mabel's delighted, dumbstruck scream had shaken the building, he'd stifled his laughter in his elbow and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

They'd had leftover breakfast for dinner, with Y/N in her bathrobe and he in his pajamas, a sequel with a happy ending. He'd rummaged through the junk drawer for a candle, struck a match and put it in the center of the dinette table. He'd taken an extra second to the chew the scrambled eggs, taste the cinnamon Farina. Savor this first meal shared in wedding bliss.

Y/N had not stopped talking.

Listing the errands necessary to interlace their lives, she'd grabbed a notepad. Jotted his social security number and tucked his Gotham City ID in her purse. (He didn't know why she needed it but figured she wasn't about to steal his identity - she already had his last name.) Gathered the photocopy of their marriage license and the divorce papers from her keepsake box. She called the landlord about adding Arthur to the lease. Told Arthur to meet her at the bank tomorrow to combine their respective checking and savings.

It'd happened too fast, a whirlwind of directions when all he wanted was for her to pay attention to him. To bask in being together. To savor their Signed a Marriage License night. He'd put on Jackie Gleason Orchestra's Music from Around the World, whose shimmery strings and romantic saxophones would slow her down. Prompt visions of a honeymoon to dance in her head. Guide her back to him.

Uncorking a bottle of wine had finally done the trick. He'd poured two glasses, set them on the console record player. Taken her by the hand and led her to the living room.

With a sheepish smile, she'd accepted a goblet. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be bossy. It's just that I-" She shook her head, shaking her excuses away. Full lips flattened to a thoughtful line. "When I woke up this morning, I had no idea I'd end the day as your wife. I couldn't have asked for a lovelier surprise."

His heart sang with a new delight, hit every note with perfect pitch. Confidence gathered in his breast as his words began to flow. "I can't live without you. I'm glad I don't have to. I know I'll make it, because you're here. You- you made my dreams come true."

Giggling, she clinked her glass to his. "Not all of them, I hope. Our future has a lot more in store."

They'd emptied the bottle, drinking until he'd felt weightless. Just after one o'clock, during Gotham Tomorrow Tonight's credits, he'd scooped her off the sofa and carried her to bed, where caresses and whispers swept him to slumber.

Arthur leaned on his elbow, cheek rested on his hand. She lay half supine, her hips turned away, a position that explained why she had to crack her back every morning. A pop! that used to unnerve him but had become a part of her soundtrack. Despite the oath they'd taken, waking beside her felt the same. Natural and normal. He'd assumed the sensation would be bigger, the crescendo of a brass section. But there was comfort in the mundanity. A feeling of rightness that this was how it was meant to be.

Studying her unhurriedly, he let his gaze rove over her, feature by feature. Thick brows, the straight line of her nose, the enticing curve of her cheek. An occasional snore interrupted even breathing. The back of his fingers grazed the column of her neck. Her shoulder stretched upwards, into his grasp. A whiff of her sweat teased her nostrils, a powdery musk that made his mouth water.

The top sheet lay below her armpits, a toffee areola visible through the fine cotton. Gingerly, so as not to wake her, he took the sheet between two fingers and tugged it below her ribs.

Goosebumps rippled across her flesh, her nipple puckered against the cool air. She made a soft sound of half wakefulness. Rolled to rest on her back. His knuckles caressed a featherlight line from her collarbone to the side of her breast. Front teeth sunk into his bottom lip. A sudden awareness flooded him. Of the blood coursing through his veins, and the dull ache blooming at the base of him.

He pulled the sheet further downward, until a nude hip was revealed. A flustered chuckle left him. He'd never understood how she could sleep naked. He'd always thought it too loose, too drafty. (And he hadn't wanted to risk Penny stumbling in at the wrong moment.)

Their first night together, he'd gone to the bathroom before no sleep. Emptied his bladder, washed his hands, rinsed his mouth. Breathed his way through the fact that a woman was waiting for him - in her bed - and the scary, splendorous truth that he'd lost his heart.

When he'd returned to the bedroom, Y/N had peeled back the covers, and he'd let out a startled oh at her lack of panties. She'd laughed and cuddled closer. Whispered "kiss me more" and turned out the light.

Her nearness overwhelming, he basked in her body. The parts hidden and exposed, both of which were a well-loved routine. Tightness stretched his underwear. He ran his palm across his abdomen. His pinky tickled his waistband. Dipped beneath to tease at his black curls. His breath caught. He worked the elastic past his pelvis. Slid lower, squeezed his length through threadbare fabric.

The covers rustled with his languorous movements. He shifted his weight to his forearm, and a spring sprung and squeaked. Y/N squinted. A yawn escaped her, a high-pitched mewl as she stretched. Taking a few seconds to focus, she blinked at him. She made no move to cover herself. A grin overtook her face. "Hi, husband."

The glow of her smile warmed him across the mattress. He scooted towards her. "Hi, wife."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good." He bent to claim her lips. They were supple, soft, and he sighed against them. "I really like being married."

She giggled. "Me, too. The best twelve hours I've had in a long time."

"Actually, it's fifteen." He nodded towards the clock. "You forgot the alarm."

Eager fingers curled around his bicep. "Work can wait." An honor, considering her dedication to her job. That dedication had turned to him.

Neither aware of who first leaned in, their mouths met. Joining and parting, more joining than parting. The tip of her tongue coaxed his, each stroke weaving a thread of desire. Tightening. Tightening. Tighter.

The heady sensation of her teeth on his neck, a subtle sucking at the crook of his shoulder. He mapped the curve of her thigh from the front to the side. Skimmed a satin path to the dip of her waist. He nuzzled at her hair.

"Are you happy?" he asked, certain of the answer but nevertheless longing to hear it.

"Ecstatic." Her sleepy, sensual gaze met his, a frank and admiring look. Bones turning pleasingly liquid, he bathed in it. "I'm so in love with you," she said.

Last evening, blinded by the shock of having what he wanted - and the fear it might go away - he'd taken her fervently. An unrepentant act of possession. This morning was a time for tenderness, for he knew she was really here. Really his.

Diving to her mouth, he pressed himself against her, a pleasured groan in his throat.

"Mmm." She broke off the kiss, lifted the sheet to steel a peek. "What's this?"

A sharp wheezy laugh, her brazen stare setting his cheekbones aflame. "Uh, a good morning?"

One leg rose to embrace him, her fingertips tingling trails up his sides. She licked her lip. "I'll take it."

~~~~~

Y/N sprinted down the sidewalk and burst into the office building's lobby. When the elevator failed to arrive after three button presses, she scurried up the stairs to the second floor, two at a time. She checked her watch. Twenty minutes late wasn't too terrible. She smoothed her hair, straightened her collar, and opened the door.

Dorothy the legal assistant started right in. "You missed a fun one. Angry little man, from the sound of it. Dennis Cower from CityVision Construction." She offered a pink While You Were Out slip. "He left a message on your extension, then called again. I told him you'd get back to him after lunch. Hey, is that a new ring?"

"Yes, it is," Y/N enthused, taking the slip with her left hand. A thrill prompted her to wiggle her fingers, but a sense of foolishness immediately enveloped her, and she waved herself off with a chuckled scoff.

Wanda's bubble gum popped at the next desk over, her typing coming to a halt. Terry looked up from his file. "So that's where you've been!"

"There's no diamond," said Dorothy, a disapproving cleft between her brows.

"No, but it's wonderful." Y/N put the message and her court bag on her L-shaped desk. "Both him and the ring."

A pause before Wanda asked, "Does he have a brother?"

Before her colleagues could waylay her with more questions, she excused herself to the photocopier to continue her mission. She copied three documents: the front and back of Arthur's ID, her divorce decree, and the marriage license. The last was a copy of a copy, and it took a couple of tries to lighten it enough to be legible. Then she knocked on Phil's door, not waiting for a response before turning the knob.

Her boss regarded her over wire frames. "I'll call you back," he said into the phone, and hung up. "It's customary to wait for an answer before barging in. Are you all right?"

"Arthur and I got married yesterday. I need to order a new nameplate and add him to my health, vision, and dental plans. And could I get a pamphlet about life insurance options, please?" Having had no one who'd need a windfall if something happened to her, she hadn't enrolled.

Phil's concerned look could've been worn by her father. "This seems sudden, Y/N."

"It's not," she laughed, taking a seat in the chair across from his desk. "Not at all. I've been waiting for him to ask for six months."

"I'm surprised you didn't propose, with ERA Now and all that."

"I have a few old-fashioned bones in me yet." She offered the marriage license and ID copy. "I'll need to run over to city hall and the bank on my lunch hour. If I'm late, I'll make up the time."

"And this morning's?"

"Yes."

"And yesterday's?"

She set her jaw rather than roll her eyes. "I'll be in an hour early and work late tomorrow and Friday."

He gave the license a glance and retrieved a Dependent Change form from a filing cabinet to his left. "The rate'll be higher if he has pre-existing conditions, but we've negotiated with the company to avoid exclusions."

Scooting forward, she snagged a click pen from its holder. She'd calculated the extra cost as soon as their future had become clear. "When will this be effective?"

"I'll fax it over this morning. It'll take about a week for your husband's cards to be mailed, but he can file a reimbursement form for anything until then." After a moment, he made a rare offer. "Should I be expecting a vacation request?"

Arthur had mentioned a honeymoon, but simply being married to him was a honeymoon in and of itself, one that made her toes curl and her spirit soar. She printed his name on the Gotham Advantage application. Added his social security number and date of birth. "How about two hours tomorrow and Friday?"

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl @chaimshelii

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #watchwhathappens

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moonlitenvyillust · 4 months ago

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Nahdkahdkahsksjsnsh manifesting inner writer with TeleNeo and the song Romeo and Cinderella (yes I still listen to years old Vocaloid. Fu)

Anyways... The italic parts of the narrative is the song itself. Anyways

Warnings: terribly written implied smut, author is eepy, angst somewhat, hurt/maybe comfort? Fluff if you squint. closet gay Telemachus, liar Telemachus, yes. You know the drill. No Beta we die like my trust in humanity, my beta reader is sleeping and I'm not

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙|-π-|⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Tonight was going to be a sinful night for Telemachus.

Don't make my love your tragic Juliet

Take me away...

Sure. Making Neo come to the banquet with him alone is a pretty fun idea. That is until the redhead got a little too drunk

That's how I feel

This is wrong. What would Athena think? Who's to care. Not Telemachus right now. That's a problem for him later. He can just put a few extra offerings to the goddess next time

Tell Mom and Dad goodnight

Wish them sweet dreams, at least

It's bedtime for grownups

It had been two months since his father came home, and he had heard some palace shaking sex going on for the first few weeks. Thank the gods they stopped

Choking on captivating caramel

Entwining my bare, bashful legs

How far can we venture tonight?

This time, it's his and Neo's turn. Would they even hear? The halls are busy with the banquet. To celebrate the return of Odysseus of course.

Be gentle, don't bite

I still dislike bitter tastes

Having been spoiled on Mom's homemade sweets

Telemachus always loved sweets.

Sure, neo's kisses are nothing short of the smell and taste of wine. But he still isn't used to the bitter taste of love

Why was love bitter you may ask? Because he never felt so loved before neo. And that says alot

When there's something you don't know

It's only natural to want to find out

Show me everything

And just for you, I'll show you mine too…

The sight of clips being taken off, Cloth being trown to a corner. Sounds of wet moans and silent kisses

I'm a Cinderella, yearning for you

I'll come running in my school uniform

Oh magic, please stop the hands of time

Before the villain interferes

There is only a few hours until morning. The two intends on taking advantage of it as much as they could

I'm a Juliet who wants to run away

But don't call me by that name

"Come on prince..." The Skyron would say.

But the Ithacan is not having it "don't call me that"

"Telemachus, then"

We have to live happily ever after

Otherwise where's the fun?

Telemachus always wished he was somewhere else when the suitors were there.

Wondering if he ever runs off, have an adventure, maybe he would find a good ending

And meeting neo was his answer to it all

Tell me, will you choose life?

The suitors in the past would always trow comments at him. Telling him to either die a coward or live suffering for his mother

He will choose to live every single time.

I applied a little too much mascara

But I'll be a good girl when tomorrow comes

So please let me off the hook for now

Telemachus promised to be a good prince tomorrow. But tonight? He needed to blow off some steam

And what better way then getting himself fucked senseless?

Gods, he's starting to sound like those suitors

The boundary line is just this black lace

And there's no one to guard it today so

If you cross it, how far are you going to go?

He had dismissed the guards the second they entered the room. From there its just him and neo

Enough you bite me, enough to make me hurt

I'm the one you fell in love with, right?

But Dad doesn't seem to like you that much

Odysseus doesn't seem to trust Neo with him

He wonders why?

You say you're holding out your hands for my sake

But isn't that a collar you're holding?

Just take me away, oh my Romeo

Far enough away that they scold us

Telemachus has to hide these marks

Sure, he is too tired to think of it now. But it would be a problem if they—no, just he— got caught with such marks

The bells are going to sound and

Cinderella has to leave her glass shoe

Obviously, you have to look for her quick

Or she'll be haunted with nightmares

Nightmares has never been new to Telemachus.

But tonight, Hypnos has graced him a dreamless slumber. Beside the warm body of a... Friend. It was soothing to feel him slowly caressing his face as if an ancient and fragile artifact

He wishes this can always keep happening

Definitely, even she did it like that—

She lied when she said she "accidentally" dropped it

That's right; same with me

Since I want to be loved by you more

Telemachus lied about what happened at night to his parents. Saying he felt a bit too tipsy and decided to go back to his chambers alone.

He had always lied. Especially about the fact he doesn't like girls. He never told his parents. If he could, he would put those feelings inside a wood crafted vial. A small one. Then close and throw that thing away

Look, I am right here

He, of course, was not alone that night.

Neo had accompanied him. And now he feels a little sore on his legs. But that's not the point.

Won't you peek into my heart?

See how it brims with desires?

I've got room for more; pack my heart until it's full

Until it fills up the place where you are

Desire is a dangerous thing. Telemachus knows. And he had fallen for it. Well, it's too late to go back now. His whole body is already sore

But what would be the point?

Telemachus writes a week after Neo left

Small letters. He sent them off. Never telling anyone he even wrote them. But Neo would know. He knows that drawing he ends all his letters with

They say happiness comes in small packages

If something doesn't change

You're going to end up hating me

Insert something ig

But Mom and Dad are the same as ever, they just want more

You're right, I should be honest

The axe I dropped was an axe of gold!

Lie after lie he had told, he himself is starting to worry of the consequence of the if's his lies were figured out

Cinderella told one too many lies

And got herself swallowed by the wolf

If something doesn't change

He's going to end up eating me too

Wolf. If he is the little wolf, then his father would be the big wolf.

He had told hundreds of lies. It's going to consume him. In one way or another.

Come to my rescue, before it's too late!

Atleast he had neo. Even just for that night. But Telemachus is fine by it. He is patient enough to wait 20 years for a father.

But truly, he is starting to get tired of waiting. He wishes Neo a safe return to Skyros. And later, he can simply forget the night ever happened.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙|-π-|⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Bruh. What the fuck was that

Anyways shout out to @lenamiyabi @no1teleneoshipper @lemonade-tree7 and all people who ship TeleNeo bc this has been here for a while.

So basically I was high on my jam session and then felt the primal urge to write this specific couple with Romeo and Cinderella

Idk why

I just did

I wrote this here bc Ao3 won't let my ass in

#epic the musical #telemachus #epic #school is killing me #alternate universe #me being silly #athena #odysseus #fanfic #me writing #teleneo #telemachus and pyrrhus #i love them your honor #love them #neoptolemus #phyrrus

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mirandasidefics · 1 year ago

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But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt2)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt2 Summary: Reader and Lucien finally get a chance to be alone while the High Lord of Day attempts his hand at subtle match making. However, things don't go according to plan.

Word Count: 9.3k (oops)

Warning(s): 18 + (MDNI), flirting, angst, alcohol use, self-deprecation, low self-esteem/worth, sexual tension (no smut), and nudity.

A/N: Here is the second part. This is a Lucien heavy chapter and was a BEAST overall. But I had so much fun writing it. There are a couple of places where the POV switches suddenly, but I wanted to show each scene from different character perspectives and not have to repeat the same events to do so. Again, thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! Please let me know what you think. This is a slow burn fic, and I hope it's not moving too slowly story wise.

Series Masterlist Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 9 Pt1

During your breakfast of fruits, yogurt, and pastries, Helion informed you and Lucien of Mor’s return to the Night Court. The story he provided was that she had been called away by Rhysand. You knew that was a lie but didn’t understand why Helion would do so. Lucien simply shrugged, not at all fazed by her absence. You knew that he still didn’t quite get along with many of Rhysand’s closest friends and found family. To your knowledge Lucien never joined the ranks of that found family. Never present for the “family” dinners and only stayed for part of the two main holiday celebrations in the Night Court, Starfall and Winter Solstice.

For your first Starfall, Nyx had been just a bit too young to join in on the festivities. So, you stayed at the River House caring for him. After about an hour of supposed celebrations Lucien had joined you. You smiled as you remembered taking turns reading him a bedtime story.

When the Winter Solstice came around, you had opted to stay at the townhouse alone. You claimed to have your own traditions that you wanted to keep. Which was partially true. However, the thought of not being with your own family yet having to witness the happiness of another kept you confined to your bed. Though you had been pleasantly surprised to find the small gift from Lucien on your dresser that morning. It was nothing fancy, just a small blank notebook. The cover consisted of beautiful, pressed pale-yellow chrysanthemums and daisies preserved in a glass window.

Part of you had wondered if the choice of flowers was intentional. So, you had asked Elain if she was familiar with their meanings. She told you they meant friendship and new beginnings. Fitting in so many ways. You returned the gesture a few days later, baking him some of your Grandmother’s famous fudge. He hesitated at first, but eventually accepted the sweet treat.

One of Helion’s hearty laughs pulled you from the memory. You would have to express your gratitude to the High Lord. For the reprieve from being watched. It was a relief to not find Mor outside your bedchamber waiting for you as she had the past few mornings. Now you could have the conversation with Lucien that you’ve wanted to for over a week. You wanted, no you needed to pick his brain for insight regarding your passage through the Prison wards, your confrontation with Azriel, and your dream. He had left so abruptly. You needed to check in on his well-being as well.

Your eyes drifted over to Lucien; the male’s russet eye crinkled at the corner as he joined in Helion’s laughter. The sight took your breath away. The smile was wide on his features. His shoulders didn’t hold the same tension they had the day before. The golden hue of his skin simply radiated joy. In that moment you couldn’t burden him with your problems, despite the pull you felt to talk to him. At least, you couldn’t burden him right now. You knew that you had to talk to him at some point. The confrontation you had with Azriel and Mor’s blatant comments about your time with your best friend weighed heavy on your mind.

“Oh, if the two of you would excuse me,” One of Helion’s attendants righted himself after whispering in the High Lord’s ear. “I have a few things to take care of, but I will see you later this afternoon. If you haven’t had the chance, I would highly recommend a walk through the botanical gardens.” He winked at you and rose from his spot. While you were happy to finally have the time alone with Lucien, you weren’t sure if you’d be up for a walk.

“That sounds lovely,” the Autumn Court male rose from his seat as well, offering his arm. “Shall we, my lady?” You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled from you. You soon found yourself rising to your own feet, linking your arm with his. How on earth are you supposed to say no to his smile?

Lucien could tell that she was tired. Her steps were slightly slower, and the light tint of blue underneath her eyes hinted that she hadn’t slept. He wondered if her despondent mood was based on the lack of sleep, or if it had to do with Mor's comments. She had been detached for most of their time in the palace and he was having trouble reading her. He had hoped that with Mor leaving her mood would improve. Seeing as that was slow going, he would have to see to it himself that her good humor returned.

The gentle breeze jostled her hair. The sound of wind chimes echoed across the oasis, nearly drowned out by the sound of the small water fountain at the entrance to the garden. The lush archway was covered in ivy and wisterias. For a fleeting moment he was reminded of the Spring Court, and the gardens that surrounded Tamlin’s manor. He glanced at the human beside him, her eyes glazed over as she took in the scenery around them. A small part of him felt bad for dragging her out here, but they hadn’t really had any time alone together in over a week. All he wanted was some time with her away from prying eyes.

Of course, separation wasn’t new to them. There had been times when he would be down in either the Spring Court or Mortal Lands for weeks on end. Yet somehow this past week and half felt different. Perhaps, it was because he had remained in Velaris and…he felt guilty for lying to her regarding his whereabouts. Even more so after learning from Ruhn of her sleepwalking incident. He expressed gratitude towards the Midgardian male for being in the townhouse that night.

A part of him knew he shouldn’t have let Amren’s admonishing comments get to him. Especially after (Y/N)’s breakdown at the Prison. Nonetheless he stayed away. Those comments, coupled with Morrigan’s penchant for observing the truth of matters, perhaps it was high time that new tactics for the woman’s healing journey be explored. He knew Ruhn would be all too willing to help with how tightly he was warped around the human’s finger. Truth be told, the idea of another male sharing her bed didn’t sit well with him. But if Ruhn could provide her with the care and support that Lucien himself couldn’t… He’d have to bite his tongue and express his gratitude again when he asked him to continue to look out for her.

As they walked towering hedges, ones taller than Lucien, lined either side of the white pebbled path. Every now and again a small alcove would be carved out. Some with seats that allowed you to bask in the sun, others had tables. One even had what appeared to be a canopy bed. Lucien watched her from the corner of his eye as they made their way through the labyrinth.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He questioned as she tried to stifle a yawn. She turned her head towards him, eyebrow furrowed. He could almost watch the gears turn in her mind as she debated on telling him the truth. Her focus continued to fade in and out, pupils dilating and contracting ever so slightly.

“I haven’t really slept since our first night here,” Her face fell with the admission. His heart ached at the shame that filled her voice. Prior to the events at the Prison, she had been doing well. At least well enough that he hoped a few days away would not have taken the toll it did on her. And if the tonics weren’t working; then they truly would need to find alternative solutions to managing her nightmares.

“With Mor around I didn’t want to risk,” She paused. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. The tonic isn’t helping. I think I’ll need to talk to the healers directly to find out if there was a change in the ingredients. Or if it's possible that a person can become tolerant of them.” She looked at him then. A sadness mixed with that lingering shame.

Lucien kicked himself internally. He really should have told Mor to shut the fuck up regarding her opinions on their relationship, especially if she was going to continue to keep the nature of her own romances a secret. The fact that she was now the second of the higher-ranking members of Rhysand’s court to express their thoughts on his friendship was not lost on him. It was also not lost on him that (Y/N)’s feelings were irrelevant to them. In much the same way that Nesta had been forced out of her darkness, it appeared that the Inner Circle believed themselves superior in knowing when a person needed healing and how that healing should occur. The only difference between the eldest Archeron and their new target was that (Y/N) was not on a path of self-destruction.

“We should rest then,” He took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “There was a nice area in an alcove just a few paces back.”

“No Lu, it’s okay,” She tried to protest. “I’m okay, I promise.” Lucien continued his path, gently tugging her along. Despite her words, her body didn’t resist him.

“Then why do I not believe you?” The resting area was the perfect setting for a nap. Tucked behind a wall of green and under a beige fabric canopy was a large mattress resting on a stone platform. Pillows and blankets of varying sizes were tossed about in a decorative fashion. Knowing the reputation of this court’s High Lord, the bed was probably used for activities that did not involve sleep. However, his companion desperately needed some rest. Nothing would deter his resolve in seeing that she had found a few moments of peace.

“Why does he have a bed in the middle of the garden?” She asked, coming to a halt after rounding the corner of what served as the entryway to the alcove.

“I’m almost certain we do not want the answer to that,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her along. He sat her down on the mattress and began to remove her sandals.

“I can do that myself,” Lucien swatted her hands away.

“It's fine,” He made quick work of the straps. “I’m already done.” He placed her footwear to the side and kicked off his own boots, setting them next to hers. Gently, he pressed her back to lay on the bed. His own body followed, hovering over her form for the briefest of pauses, and then he was next to her lying on his side. She rolled over to face him, allowing his arm to drape over her waist before he brought her closer.

“Get some rest,” He encouraged as his hand began to stroke up and down her spine. A soothing gesture he often used to get her to calm down when her mind raced at night.

“But I’m not tired,” She fought another yawn.

“Bullshit,” He chuckled.

“Okay, I’m a little tired,” She relented, tilting her head to look at his face. “But I can’t take a nap right now, not when I have so much to tell you.”

“And what is so urgent that it can’t wait an hour or two?” He smirked. She twisted her arm out from underneath her body and pointed her index finger at him.

“You have to promise that this information is cataloged in the farthest and most well-guarded recesses of your mind,” Her tone was serious. “Rhysand cannot find out, even if there is a good chance that he already knows.”

“I swear,” He tried to match her serious tone, but he knew that his smile was getting in the way. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she swirled her head around, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. Once satisfied, she bent down towards his ear. Her breath puffed against his skin, causing the small hairs on his neck to rise.

“Rhysand’s story of me being his cousin is very likely true,” She whispered. “There is a secret entrance to the Prison that Bryce pushed me into that day. I was able to pass through the ward, in and back out, with no issue.” Her eyes were conspiratorially bright.

“Is that what made you so upset?” He tried to reign in his mirth. “That you found out you are related to an overgrown bat?” Rolling her eyes, she sighed and lightly smacked his chest.

“No,” Her tone became softer as she laid back down. “I cried because I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope, just to have it dashed by a failed portal to my world.” The hand at her back reached up to her face, his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” She gave him a weak smile, brushing off her own feelings as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. “Is that what caused your nightmare?” His hand returned to its previous ministration along her back. Again, she shrugged.

“Could be,” He felt a shiver run through her at whatever memory surfaced. “All I remember is a festering and desolate darkness that tried to drown me.”

“That’s not ominous at all.” She released a breathy chuckle as her eyelids drifted close.

“My dreams are never prophetic,” She explained. “Just weird. It’s more likely my mind’s way of trying to process being cornered by Azriel in the kitchen that night.” Her voice drifted, and if she noticed Lucien’s hand freeze at her revelation she didn’t let on. Lucien felt locked in his anger towards the Shadowsinger.

“What did he want?” His voice was clipped.

“He wanted to apologize,” She buried her face into his chest, and the rising anger settled. “I told him off instead. Nicked his chin with a knife as well.” Her exhalation evened into a steady rhythm, and he resumed running his fingers along her back. The repetitive action soothed his nerves as well.

“Good girl,” She hummed in response. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Lucien’s mind swirled.

You hadn’t even been asleep for 30 minutes when an attendant came and woke you. Begrudgingly, you and Lucien complied, the male putting your sandals back on for you despite your ongoing protests. The attendant led you back to your room where several dresses were laid out on the bed and hanging in the armoire. Dresses in varying shades ranging from stark white to cream to ivory. Some were speckled in golden accents, others all monochromatic. One dress was entirely golden.

The dress that immediately caught your eye was a simple column gown with thick shoulder straps that seamlessly flowed down to create the bodice. The neckline was low and would reveal an ample amount of cleavage. A braided rope created a beautiful silhouette, cupping the outline of the bodice’s breasts and wrapping around the waist several times over. The attendant informed you that the dresses were yours and for your use in the Day Court whenever you came to visit, along with the room itself. While it was a similar gift to what Rhysand had done, Helion’s offer was not one of apology or self-assigned obligation. The true intent of his action had not been lost on either you or Lucien. Helion’s offer marked a standing invitation, and an allyship if ever needed.

With the help of another female attendant, you had changed into the dress. You had to hide the small blush on your face as you watched Lucien pause when you emerged from your room. The two of you then followed the male attendant through the winding cobblestone streets of the town surrounding the palace. He led you to a large building whose entrance reminded you of the Parthenon in Athens.

Helion was inside, sitting at a long central table. A stack of books piled to his mid-chest. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment paper with a feather quill. You smiled at the sight, but you couldn’t quite place why. His greeting was as warm as always. Excusing the attendant, he gave you and Lucien a summary of the central library’s history. The one you were in currently was the largest library within the Day Court, but it certainly was not the oldest. However, he was confident that whatever information you were looking for on Prythian's early history would be located within its walls. You simply smiled in thanks; you had not yet revealed that you were from another world and looking for a way home.

After an afternoon spent searching through books, the last thing you had the energy for was another formal dinner. It almost seemed that the High Lord was aware of your lack of sleep when he offered a much less formal affair. An evening in a small intimate chamber. The center of the room consisted of a square recessed seating surrounding a fire pit. Two walls were lined with books, while a third housed a small selection of wine next to the door leading to the rest of the place. The fourth really didn't exist as it was yet another open entrance to a terrace that overlooked the lands. So many of the rooms were open in this manner, allowing the natural sunlight to fill the space.

Currently you were snacking on bits of herb roasted chicken, plucked off one of the wooden trays of food that lined the edges of the pit, a few were even scattered along the empty seats. In your other hand was a large clear goblet, filled with a deep crimson wine. Helion informed that the batch was made from the palace’s ancient vineyard, a testament to a perfect blend of ancient craft and magic. You had to admit that the wine was the best tasting wine you had ever experienced.

Fae Wine was much sweeter than you had expected. Flavors of dark cherry and bergamot coated your lips and tongue.At first Lucien didn't want you to drink the intoxicant. After plenty of reassurance from Helion, Lucien only warned you to pace yourself. Of course, you didn’t listen, not fully realizing that Fae Wine was much stronger than normal wine. You found yourself with your walls and inhibitions considerably lowered. For instance, if you had drunk regular wine, you wouldn't have been unabashedly staring at your friend for the better part of 15 minutes. Despite his continued conversation with Helion sitting across the way, you could tell he watched you as well.

“Forgive me for asking,” You sat on your knees, leaning towards Lucien as he sat in front of you. His legs stretched out on the large couch in a relaxed posture. “I know it must be a sensitive subject, but how does that golden eye work?”

“I can see out of it just like my real eye,” He explained, turning his gaze fully towards you. “My friend from the Dawn Court enchanted it, allowing me to see. I have complete control over the device, and it responds and reacts in all the same ways my natural eye does.” Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks burn from your smile.

“Absolutely fascinating,” You crawled over to him, the alcohol preventing you from caring about personal space. You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and began to examine the contraption. You had never looked at the eye up close. The mechanics were definitely a marvel to behold.

“It does more as well,” He smiled at you, his fingers playing with the ends of the cords holding your dress together. “It has the capability to see through magical deceptions. Glamours, spells, and occasionally lingering traces of magic.”

“How?” You cupped the right side of his jaw, turning his face to get a better look. Accompanied by a faint whirring the pupil of the mechanical eye expanded.

“When there is lingering magic on an object, or even a person,” He began. “The image becomes hazy, out of focus. The eye focuses until the image is clear, which allows me to see the true nature of the object.”

“What do you see when you look at me?” He turned his head forward to look into your eyes. His lips open and shut like a fish causing you to giggle. You gently rubbed your thumbs on each side of his face as you held it.

“I think your boldness has put him at a loss for words,” Helion laughed from his seat across the way. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone.

“He’s spent too much time in those stuffy seasonal courts,” Lucien scoffed at the High Lord’s comment, the puff of air hitting your neck. “Perhaps he needs a proper demonstration on how to respond when a beautiful woman seats herself upon his lap. Care to join me for that demonstration?” The High Lord patted the top of his muscular golden thigh.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Biting your bottom lip, you started to move off Lucien’s lap. You only managed to move about 2 inches before you felt his warm hands wrap around your hips pinning you against him. Heat bloomed in your core at the friction. His lips curled up in a snarl as he stared at the other male. Helion merely grinned.

“Oh hush!” You smacked the redhead in the center of his chest, your other hand moving to his shoulder to keep your balance. “He’s joking. We all know that I’m not beautiful.” Your voice became softer as you said the words out loud. Despite your slightly drunken state, you felt the shift in the air as both males practically began to examine you.

“How would you describe yourself my dear?” Helion asked. It was your turn to pause. You had never really seen yourself as beautiful, but you also knew that you weren't exactly ugly.

“Plain,” You hummed, twirling a bit of Lucien’s long hair around your finger in your attempt to feign an air of nonchalance. “Homely, unappealing, just shy of decent.” You rattled off each synonym. Your attention shifted to Lucien as your name drifted past his lips. You unraveled the hair from around your digit.

“What?” You honestly didn’t understand why he appeared displeased with your statement. “Oh don’t give me that look, Lu.” You playfully pushed his face away from yours, but remained seated in his lap.

“How should he look at you?” Helion asked, leaning forward on his elbows. The merriment that filled the room was slowly dissipating. “Because from what we see the description you provided for the woman in the room with us is a bit harsh.” Your face flushed with irritation, leaning back and away from Lucien’s chest. Why couldn’t they understand that you had accepted the fact that you weren’t beautiful and just leave it at that?

“Well for starters I don’t need false praise,” You tried to keep the air light, the following lie floating off your tongue. “It’s not harsh when what I say about myself is objectively true.” You shifted your weight, but Lucien’s hold on your hips was firm.

“Then by all means,” He waved his hand, smiling as if he had won. “Tell us some of these objective truths.”

“I’m not conventionally pretty, but there are parts of me that are…nice,” You stated, turning your upper body to lock your gaze with the High Lord. You square your shoulders before speaking again.

“Like my legs.” You felt Lucien’s hands drag their way down your hips down toward your thighs. You felt exposed by the soothing circles he rubbed into the bare flesh as the dress’ fabric fell at the slits. The alcohol coursing through your veins gave the impression that his hands were warmer than usual.

“What else?” Lucien’s voice was barely above a whisper. A reassuring squeeze to your outer thighs sent a scorching heat through you. Your legs tensed and your hands fell to your sides.

“My eyes,” You swallowed, your attention returning to the male underneath you. “I think my eyes are pretty.” As Lucien’s mismatched eyes bored into you, you noticed a fire burning in his russet iris.

The flame grew as he stared at you, and your heart began to flutter. You watched as his golden mechanical eye expanded and contracted. His lips twitched with unspoken words. Words you were suddenly afraid to hear. His fingers danced around yours, trying to interlock them, but you kept them at your side. You needed to curb this conversation before you were set on fire by the intensity of his gaze.

“But it has been my experience that when men give me compliments they only do so because they want something from me, not because they genuinely believe their words to be true.” Your head whipped back to the High Lord. “As soon as they don’t get what they want their pretty words turn to ash.”

“That last one is not objective then,” the High Lord pointed out. “Rather those are the words of scorned human men, not Fae males who understand and see the natural beauty in everything the Mother has created.” Your body felt hot, and you shifted your weight as far from Lucien’s hips as you could. Poised and ready to leave if this conversation continued.

“I’m sorry High Lord,” Irritation flashing over your senses, causing the filter from your brain to your mouth to momentarily slip away. “But those are just more pretty words.” Lucien’s hands gently followed your body’s every shift with a sense of hesitation to them. You didn’t want to focus on what that hesitation meant.

“No need to apologize to me dear one,” Helion leaned back in his seat. His honey eyes flashed to Lucien, whose grip on your upper thighs tightened unconsciously. At least you hoped the action was unconscious. You didn’t want to believe that he would ever want to hold you close in what was certainly a compromising position. Hastily, you stood up from your perch on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” The apology tumbled from your lips, and you ignored the flicker of disappointment on his face. “If I made you uncomfortable…I sometimes…I should go. Excuse me.”

“Wait,” Lucien swung his legs to the side of the couch and grasped her hand, desperately trying to interlock their fingers. “Please, love.”

“Let go, Lu,” Her breath was ragged as she gripped the wrist of the hand trying to hold on to her. “Please.” Her fingers slipped through his, and he could tell that something wasn’t right. His eyes fell to her legs, the fabric of her dress parting at the high slits showcasing their shape as she raced for the door. Helion sat up again, watching as she darted past, calling your name as well.

“I didn’t intend for the conversation to upset her,” Helion apologized as the door shut behind her. “It’s a shame she doesn’t see her beauty. She is remarkable.”

“She is,” Lucien continued to stare forward, his voice breathless as his eyes lost focus. “She’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, yet in a very different sense from your mate. I have nothing against the Archeron girl, but (Y/N),” Helion’s eyes lingered over the space that she hurried from. “She seems much more your speed. Don’t let her go so quickly.”

“She doesn’t belong to me,” Lucien stated simply. His eyes regained their focus on the male before him, schooling his features in the process.

“Hmm…Then should I see if she’s interested in joining me in my chambers tonight? Worship her like the goddess she is.” Frustration built up inside him, nearly boiling over and Lucien’s mask of indifference fell ever so slightly. The High Lord raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps not.”

The two males sat in silence for a few moments longer. The once light atmosphere now dulled in the human’s absence. Lucien could feel the beginning effects of the alcohol on his mind, as he drummed his fingers along his knee. Her departure didn’t sit right with him. The way she spoke of herself. If Helion sought her out, his words and actions may only solidify her beliefs about herself. She should hear it from someone she trusts to be honest with her. Lucien had to make it right. She had to see that she was stunning in her own way.

Abruptly, he stood from his chair and strode over to the wine rack. Grabbing two bottles of Day Court’s best he then stormed out of the room.

“Have fun,” Helion smiled as he watched the door close behind Lucien. “Son.”

Lucien didn’t even bother with knocking on her door when he arrived at her room. With one bottle under his arm, he simply turned the handle and strode right inside.

“Why must you go and say such things?” He demanded.

“What things?” She was grating his nerves.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“I’d really rather not fight with you Lu,” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we have this conversation when we are both sober? My head is starting to hurt, and I’ve not slept in two days!” She walked over to him, hands wrapping around the fabric of his white linen top. A playful pout danced across her features. Almost instantly the anger drained from him.

“By the Cauldron,” He dramatically rolled his eyes. “How can I say no to that look?”

“You can’t,” She smiled, tucking a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. “You are my best friend here Lucien. I just want to change and relax, preferably by curling up with you on the balcony. The weather is so nice here.” He gently clasped her hand, holding her palm against his lips.

“As you wish,” He watched as something crossed over her features, but it was gone too quickly for his buzzed mind to process. With surprising grace, she walked over to her luggage and pulled out her nightclothes before proceeding to the ensuite bathing chamber. With the tap water running, he made himself busy by finding glasses and pouring each of them a fresh glass of wine.

When she emerged, he was lounging on the “L” shaped couch set just at the opening of the bedroom as it led to the balcony. The khaki-colored cushions were plush and soft as he leaned against them. She sat down next to him, and he handed her the glass he poured. She immediately consumed half the glass, before she tucked herself into his side.

The town below Helion’s palace glowed a soft warm golden hue. It almost reminded him of Autumn, with the torches and gas lamps lining the streets of the village nearby the Forest House. Together they drank their wine. His arm over her shoulder, her free hand raised to hold his dangling fingers. They sat like that for a while. They sat for so long that he almost thought she had fallen asleep.

“Azriel thinks you and I are fucking,” Her statement pierced the comfortable silence.

“What?” Lucien nearly choked on the last dregs of his wine.

“Yep,” She emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop of her lips. “Apparently, I am a shameless human whore corrupting the right and virtuous Fae Lord.” She giggled to herself. “Oh! That rhymes!” She lightly smacked his chest in delight.

“He called you a whore?” Lucien could feel his fire just under the surface of his palms.

“No. No,” She took a small sip from her glass. Her eyes still focused on the flickering lights of the town surrounding the palace.

“But there was a clear disapproval of the fact that we share a bed whenever we are together,” She sighed, Lucien’s nod was barely visible as she continued to ramble. “Remember when I told you about how he cornered me in the kitchen? That’s when he insinuated that I must enjoy having another female’s mate in my bed. Apparently, beds are no longer used for sleeping. Just fucking, and since we share a bed that must be all that we do. Fuck.”

That now made three. Three members of the Inner Circle expressed their disapproval of his actions. Already believing that he was not a male of his word. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation after…while living in Spring the past couple centuries. If he had to be honest, he was an absolute rake. So why was he trying so hard to prove otherwise now? He was startled as she let out a dramatic gasp.

“What if that’s the reason my sleep tonics don’t work!” Uncrossing her legs she spun to face him. “What if one of those fucking assholes switched them out? For contraceptives!” Lucien blinked at her a few times, his brain trying to process the near ludicrous statement she had made.

“That is an interesting theory,” He couldn’t hold in his laughter. “But you always fall right asleep after taking your tonic. So how does that fit in?”

“That could be the placebo effect!” Her animated movements caused him to laugh more.

“The what effect?” He laughed. She groaned and slapped her palm against her forehead.

“So, the horrible cliff notes explanation is that my brain had adapted to falling asleep right away after drinking my tonic,” He nodded along even though he had no clue what she was saying. “So, if someone switched it without my knowledge, my brain still thinks it’s taking the same tonic. Therefore, it behaves in the same way by flooding my brain with the “sleepy time” signals. My brain is tricking itself into falling asleep, but the tonic isn’t actually in my system to keep me asleep. I have nightmares because my brain isn’t getting what it had been before.” Her eyes were wide, and if she hadn’t drunk nearly three bottles of Fae Wine on her own since the start of dinner a few hours ago, he may have believed her.

“Okay, well then for the sake of the argument,” He placed his empty glass down and began scooting closer to her, “Maybe they are doing us a favor. I do sleep in your bed more often than I sleep in mine. And I was known as a male with many dalliances.” Waggling his eyebrows Lucien clutched her arm and leaned into her side. She looked at him with round wide (e/c) orbs.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of these contraceptives and ravish each other,” He buried his face in her neck, playfully growling and nipping at her skin. She yelped and pushed at his face, all the while giggling. He grabbed the back of her knee, the act of pulling her towards him resulted in her back landing on the couch cushions below. Taking her wine glass out of her hand, Lucien set it on the small table. Her laughter was contagious, and he felt lighter than he had in days.

“Be serious,” She continued to giggle from under him. “You wouldn’t want me.” He leaned down, hovering above her.

“What makes you think that?” He brushed his nose against hers. This time she didn’t laugh.

“The fact that you are a good male,” She squeezed his cheeks together until his lips puckered like that of a fish. His vision blurred as the skin was mushed around. She let go and slipped out from under his arm. He sat back up and watched as she picked up her glass. His mouth dried up as her ass jiggled from her prancing a few steps out of his reach and back into her bedroom proper.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you or not,” He said smoothly, standing and following her inside.

“You’re right,” She mused. “But you don’t want me.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?”

“First, you have a mate,” Her tone took on a more serious edge. “One that is beautiful beyond comparison.” He remained silent. It was true that his mate was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. So then why did he feel guilty when he saw the sad recognition in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Secondly, this,” His eyes followed her hand as it waved up and down the length of her form. “This is not attractive. This-”

“Yes, you are,” He was breathless. He watched as she clenched her jaw.

“No,” Her tone was indignant. “And I’ll prove it to you.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and her hands immediately clasped around the hem of her top. In one quick motion the emerald top was gone, and Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. Mother spare him, he tried to look away but wasn’t quick enough. His eyes caught sight of her bare breasts as they gently bounced from the movement.

“I hereby challenge you to a game of chicken,” Picking up her wine glass, she sauntered over to him, swaying her hips. “The first to show physical signs of arousal is the loser.” She held out her free hand to him. He knew that the terms of the little contest were set in her favor. She’d have to allow him between her legs for him to see any evidence of her arousal, but he convinced himself that the wine swayed him to agree.

“What does the winner get?” He asked, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Her eyes roamed over the expanse of his chest.

“The right to determine where the night goes,” Her saccharine smile practically sent him to his knees. “Anything goes, except the direct stimulation of genitals.” Suddenly, the room became unbearably warm. She continued her path towards the bed. She set the glass back down on the nightstand, and slowly removed her matching emerald silk sleep shorts.

He felt himself stiffen at the view of her shapely bare form before him. While he could blame the wine for influencing him, he had clearly already lost. He said a silent prayer in thanks to the Mother that his trousers were still on, and she was facing the opposite direction.

“Though I do believe that the odds are in your favor,” She giggled to herself as she turned to face him. She placed herself on the bed as she watched him, picking up her glass for a final time. He took the opportunity to finish undressing, watching as her throat bobbed from swallowing the rest of her wine. Her eyes sparkled as he shed the last bit of his clothes.

“You know how I know?” She practically purred from her position on the bed. “Because you’re too good a male to find anyone except your mate arousing.”

“Being a good male is a burden really,” He smiled, and began to crawl up the mattress. A fox hunting its prey.

“Poor baby,” She leaned against the headboard, arms settling over her stomach, blocking it from view. He was vaguely aware the pose served a double purpose of hiding what she felt was a flaw while perfectly framing her assets. He reached where she sat on the bed. She allowed his fingers to trace up along her bicep, over her shoulder, and across her collar bones. His golden eye focused on the skin that pebbled in the wake of his touch.

“Poor baby indeed.”

“If you were to relieve your burden,” She allowed his hand to continue its travels up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. The scent of arousal permeated the air, but he didn’t call her out on it. He lowered his face towards hers, their noses barely touching.

“I would wrap my lips around your nipple like a starved babe,” Her eyes went wide but were quickly filled with doubt. He watched as she visibly started to close herself off. Shoulders slumping forward and her knees rose to her chest.

That was not exactly the desired effect he had wanted from her. He wanted her to know just how gorgeous and tempting she really was. And Cauldron boil him she was tempting. His gaze wandered over her form to the ivory lace bottoms she still wore. Even without the alcohol coursing through him, he knew in that instant that if she were completely bare before him, he would bury his face between her legs. He should have called her out for the sweet scent she emitted.

“We should sleep,” Her voice whispered, as she turned away from him.

“And miss the opportunity to prove to everyone, to ourselves, that-”

“We are just friends,” She interrupted, turning back to look at him. Her gaze traveled over him. “Besides, you lost the game.”

Lucien sighed as she fought back her own giggle. The tension in the air evaporated just as quickly as it had arrived. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was hard as a rock. He should have known better than to agree to her terms.

“Fine you win,” He turned and sat next to her on the bed, his left leg bent to block her view of him. “But you are a cheater by wearing those panties.” She stuck out her tongue. He took a few deep breaths to try and calm his erection. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You know,” Her voice trailed off as she covered herself with the cotton sheet. “I feel a little bad about your situation. But I really do believe that…”

“I wouldn’t have proposed anything more than sleeping, love,” He reassured, pulling the sheets back and climbing under them as well. “Not because you are right, but because you desperately need sleep.” She nodded, humming thoughtfully to herself, before she turned on her side facing away from him. He started to scoot over towards her when she pushed her hand in his face.

“Nope!” She warned. “No cuddles until you’re flaccid.”

Lucien was just on the cusp of waking. His base senses and instinct were the only things drifting through the fog of early morning slumber. The room was quiet, as was the still sleeping city outside. A cool early morning autumn breeze danced over the bare skin of his shoulder as it peaked out from under the light cotton sheet. The air caused the flesh to rise in small bumps, each one threatening to bring even more awareness to his consciousness. However, it was a welcome sensation compared to the stuffiness of the room. Then again, the shifting body next to him was pleasantly warm.

Slowly he became aware of his hand resting on a soft plush thigh that was wrapped over his hips. The weight of the limb was comfortable and grounding. A steady rhythm of warm air ghosted over the pulse point of his neck. His voice involuntarily gave way to a whispered hum. With the slightest shift, to not wake himself nor the figure next to him, Lucien merged into the softness. Hand wrapping around the waist to bring the plush figure flush against his, he allowed himself to meld with the body resting nearly atop him. Soft full breasts pressed into his chest and a hand found its home near the top of his shoulder.

The scent of vanilla and honey lulled him back into a relaxing sleep. He didn’t even notice the touch of jasmine was missing from his mate’s scent. It was replaced with another soft warm earthy aroma. Amber. She felt so good sleeping against him. A slight nudge of the tip of her nose against his throat caused his hips to buck ever so gently. He didn’t dare open his eyes or move as the female took a quick inhale of breath. Nothing sharp enough to indicate wakefulness. The nose again brushed along the column of his throat, a set of plush lips quickly following.

He was nearly awake now with the blood rushing to the growing appendage below his waist. He didn’t know what had entered Elain’s mind to where she felt the need to crawl into bed with him, but he was glad she had. Except…that didn’t seem right. He hadn’t fallen asleep in the Night Court last night. Therefore, there was no way that Elain could be here right now. His heart went into an instant gallop as his eyes shot open. It most certainly wasn’t Elain that was so tightly wrapped up around him. Carefully he pulled his head back far enough to look at the sleeping woman. As he looked down at her figure he tried to prevent his length from stiffening more.

The early morning rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer white gossamer fabric hanging down around the marble columns surrounding the bed frame, cascading down across her skin that wasn’t covered by the sheets. Her features were relaxed as she continued to sleep on his chest. Something deep in him, deeper than where his magic lingered in his bones, hummed. He knew that he should be separating himself from her, but he couldn’t get his body to comply. It was as if it would only respond to a higher power, one that was perfectly content to have him remain right where he was.

He must still be drunk. That’s the real reason for his lack of control. Bits and pieces of the night before tried to stitch themselves together. He remembered entering her room, another two bottles of Fae wine in his hands. Mother above, two bottles. Internally, he rolled his eyes at his past actions. That had been a mistake. He didn’t remember if they finished said bottles, which then led to his conclusion that they must have. It had been a long time since he had woken without his memory fully intact. As much as he wanted to continue to lie like this with her, he knew that should the wrong person decide to enter the chamber they would have a more difficult time dissuading any rumors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to jostle or rush her out of her slumber.

A gentle tracing ghosted along the skin of your back. The shiver that passed over you slowly brought your mind to consciousness. You knew instantly that Lucien was with you simply from the fact that you were not screaming. You felt like you were floating, you were so at peace. Your own fingers twitched along the warm skin of the chest beneath you.

“Good morning sweet girl,” Lucien murmured. Perhaps you were still dreaming, but you could have sworn you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Hmm, morning,” You didn’t want to open your eyes. Pressing further into his warmth, something stiff poked at your inner thigh. Your eyes shot open. You bolted upright, flinging the sheet to the side and stared at the expanse of golden skin before you.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice rose in pitch and volume with each word, your cheeks flushing crimson. ‘Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look!’ You really tried not to look down, but you apparently lost the ability to maintain control of your own body. Your (e/c) orbs darted down and back up. You desperately wanted to rid your mind of the image of his hard cock, if even just to prevent yourself from wandering to it late at night, but you knew that that sight would be forever burned in your brain. You shook your head of the fleeting thought that the females in his life must certainly have had a good time with…well, him.

“I think the better question is why are you?” His own eyebrow quirked up in mirth. He clearly found this all much more amusing than you did. So far, all this has just proved that maybe it was time for distance. You glanced back down at your own body to see that you were in fact mostly nude. You sighed in relief when you saw that you still had a pair of underwear on. However, your relief was quickly replaced by horror in the fact that Lucien was able to see the rest of your naked form. You were aware this wasn’t exactly the first time you’d been in a state of undress around him, but he had always averted his eyes.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Had you been any slower you would have missed the fact that his gaze rested on your chest. Hastily pulling the blankets to cover yourself, your face flushed a second time. You likely would not have minded his stare had you been wearing a bra or a tank top. You knew that your full heavy breasts were eye-catching and enjoyed that fact when you had your short bouts of confidence in your appearance. But that wasn’t when gravity had full control of them as it does now.

“What happened last night?” You wracked your brain for any explanation as to why you’d both been in your current nude state.

“What do you remember?” He asked. You wrapped the sheet around you, tucking the ends in at the top to form a makeshift robe.

“I remember returning to my room,” Your brows scrunched together. “The rest is blank. Fucking shit balls, I’ve NEVER been black out drunk before.” You pressed the heels of your palms against your forehead. Your head hurt and nausea washed over you. You were going to be sick. Grabbing the bottom of the sheet you ran towards the ensuite bathroom.

The porcelain toilet was cold against your fingers as you heaved your guts into the bowl. Within seconds, a pair of hands carded their way into your hair and pulled it back out of the way. One hand continued to hold your (h/c) locks back while the other rubbed your back in soothing circles.

You were grateful for him. He seemed to always know what you needed and would support you in any way you needed support. And you knew you’d do the same for him. So, the least you could do is support the fact that he has a mate by putting some distance between the two of you. And he’d need to know exactly why, even if it meant being hurtful at this moment.

“The others have been talking,” You started, but another wave of sickness left your body.

“Shh,” He continued to rub your back. “I-I know. We can talk about that later though.”

“I think it's best if there is some separation between us,” The words felt hollow in your ears even though you say them. “I’m not about to be labeled a homewrecker, despite the fact that no home exists for you and Elain right now.”

“Nothing happened between us,” He tried to reason, but you could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “Did it?”

“You don’t remember?” You turned to look at him as he continued to kneel next to you, you noted that he had yet to cover himself. His hands paused for the briefest of moments. As the waves of your nausea subsided your attention went towards your lower body. You knew your body well. While you were no virgin, it had been a few years since you had sex. Given Lucien’s size, and the lack of a dull ache between your legs, you could tell that at least no penetration

had occurred between the two of you. He was certainly a much better male than anyone gave him credit for.

“I’m quite certain nothing happened,” You rested your head against the bowl. “And why would it? Look at me, I am nothing compared to her.” You wanted to ignore the flame that shone in his eye. The one you knew was sparked from irritation.

“Surely you must not think that I’d be so shallow-”

“Aren’t all men-males?” You were going to win this fight. You would always make sure you won this fight. Anytime someone tried to convince you that your appearance didn’t matter you would argue against it. You had been scorned too many times by men in your past. You knew that your appearance certainly did matter a great deal to anyone that wasn’t just looking to get his cock wet.

“Then again, men don’t care what you look like if they know the night will end in sex.” But they certainly cared when it meant introducing you to others as a potential partner. And as far as you were aware, your physical appearance wasn’t ‘girlfriend or wife material’ worthy. Lucien just stared at you, so you stared right back. Even if he had to lie to you, lie to himself, you could not afford to hope that Fae males were any different. You could not hope that any of them could find you beautiful.

“I will not lie to you-” His voice almost sounded defeated.

“Good,” You cut him off again, looking up. “Then we can move on.” You hoped he didn’t miss the pleading look in your eyes. Flushing the toilet, you made to rise from the floor. Lucien helped you to your feet, and continued to hold your hair as you took small sips of water from the sink’s tap. Removing his hand from your hair, you interlaced your fingers with his.

“I’m not cutting you out of my life, Lucien. You are very important to me. We are friends and can still support each other. I love being with you. We just need to be mindful of how the others see it.” You knew that space was needed. It was necessary, even as something inside you felt like it withered.

“Alright,” He relented, as you splashed your face with the cold water. “What are the boundaries?” He was leaving it to you to decide.

“We have to be the most careful while in the Night Court,” You started. “Physical contact in public should be reduced to linked arms when appropriate. Verbal greetings only. No more nights spent at the townhouse.” You tried to maintain eye contact with him and not let your eyes drift along the expanse of his still exposed body. As much as it scared you, you would have to brave being alone.

“You and I both know that you sleep better with someone next to you,” He reasoned. “If I can't be there then at least…at least have Ruhn with you. I’m certain he’ll be willing to step in wherever I can’t.”

“He can’t always stay with me,” You informed him. “He has a battle for his own world that he is trying to fight. What am I supposed to do when he’s in Midgard? It terrifies me to think what would have happened that night.” The fact that you nearly walked right off the roof of the townhouse was a chilling thought.

“Then let’s ask Helion for assistance,” Lucien supplied. “Ask him to speak with Thesan. He’s the High Lord of the Dawn Court, a healer in his own right. Surely, he will have knowledge about other sleep or dream preventing tonics.” He raised his hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“That could work,” You quickly turned away from his gentle touch. Something deep in you screamed as you walked away and out of the bathroom.

“What do we do when we’re alone?” You tried to stop your heart, but it’s pounding filled your ears. Naturally he followed you, but it was a long while before he said anything else. He slowly got dressed, as did you. Anything to keep yourself occupied while you tried to think.

You didn’t know what to say. If there was nothing between you now, then there shouldn’t be any need to change what you did when alone. Except, being alone with him may only continue to fan the flames of rumors. You needed to do what you could to keep each other in your lives, even if that meant you couldn't touch him in the ways you wanted. Why did this feel like a breakup?

“It’s probably best that we remain consistent,” You watched as sadness flashed across his features."At least for now."

“As you wish.”

Next- Chapter 10 (~ 7/12/24)

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