#if he looked too much like him I’d feel extra guilty

[thenerdykneazle]

Marry You

Summary: Garreth proclaims to anyone and everyone, including you, that he is going to marry you one day – despite the fact that you haven’t even agreed to court him (not that he's asked). Set during 5th year. It was supposed to be a bunch of short drabbles. One of them got out of hand (oops).

Garreth Weasley x Gryffindor F!MC

A/N: I added Garreth to DADA b/c in the game he only has like 2 classes with MC. It’s a crime that they didn’t give him the same schedule as Leander, honestly. You know those idiots would be besties and take all the same classes.

Warnings: none, pure fluff for a change, pining, *slight* Seb bashing if you squint but really he's just his moody self

Word Count: 6330

To Imelda

Garreth was elated when you handed him the fwooper feather. “Brilliant! This is going to take a moment to brew. You should get back to brewing your Edurus Potion, and I’ll tell you when this concoction’s finished.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” you replied before leaving to work on your own potion. Garreth watched you walk away with stars in his eyes.

Imelda came up beside him. “Causing trouble again, Weasley?” she asked.

Garreth jumped at the girl suddenly so close to him. “Just getting started. I think I’ve got a partner in crime now,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Dragging that new fifth-year into your schemes, are you?”

He gave her a cheeky smile. “I may be dragging her into my schemes, but I’d let her drag me anywhere,” he said.

Imelda scrunched up her face in disgust at the mushy proclamation. “Ugh! Down boy,” she said. “You’ve only just met the poor girl.”

He sighed dreamily as he watched you work across the room. You seemed to have a knack for potions like he did. “Maybe, but I’m gonna marry her one day,” he said, imaging a future running a shop in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley with you.

Imelda rolled her eyes at the dramatic boy. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor,” she said before walking off.

When his potion sparked out wild fireworks, he caught your eye in the chaos. You looked thoroughly amused, and he couldn’t help but feel that the potion had been a resounding success if it got you to smile that way. He did feel a bit guilty that he had gotten you in hot water with Sharp, but the ex-auror didn’t seem too fussed about things.

To Sebastian

Garreth was enamoured when you knocked Sebastian on his ass. Again. You were all duelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Professor Hecat seemed to enjoy seeing the Slytherin knocked down a peg as much as Leander did since she paired you and Sebastian together a second time. Garreth cheered even louder than Leander for you, and you gave the dorky pair a little salute.

Personally, though, Garreth had never had an issue with his fellow freckled classmate. He was friendly, had a good sense of humour, and enjoyed helping other students with their studies – or, at least, he used to before his sister was cursed. They had even teamed up on a prank here and there over the years. So, when Garreth saw the way the brunet looked at you, he had one thought as he smirked to himself: Game on.

You helped Sebastian back to his feet. “Nice job,” he said. “All your extra practice is paying off.”

You shrugged. “I suppose so,” you agreed. “You’ve been improving, as well, though.”

“I’d like a fair fight sometime. Get to use all my tricks,” he said. “Though, I could show you one or two beforehand if you’d like.”

You smiled slightly. “I might be interested,” you replied.

“I’ll be in touch, then,” Sebastian said with a smirk. He brushed himself off as he walked back to Ominis.

You walked back to your fellow Gryffindors. “Godric himself would be proud,” Leander said as Garreth gave you a congratulatory hug.

From across the room, Sebastian eyed the redhead as he embraced you. Garreth caught him watching and sent him a wink and a cheeky grin.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Garreth said as he let go of you.

“Thanks,” you said, beaming at him.

Leander resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his curly-haired friend seemed to dominate your attention and vice versa. He busied himself talking to Andrew. You and Garreth started talking about your recent encounter with a kneazle den out in the forest, barely noticing your friend’s absence. Soon, though, Professor Hecat stole you away to talk about an extra assignment.

Garreth took the opportunity to saunter over to the Slytherins. “You put up a good fight,” he said to Sebastian.

“Thanks,” he replied before cutting to the chase. “So, you and MC seem pretty cozy.” Sebastian had always been the jealous type.

“I should hope so,” Garreth replied. “I am going to marry her, after all.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at that. Weasleys were a known pure-blood family, but most of them weren’t those kinds of pure-bloods that had their children pledged to suitors from a young age.

Ominis gave the Gryffindor a pitying expression, though Garreth didn’t notice as Sebastian spoke up at the same time. “Didn’t realize your family was into that sort of thing. Arranged betrothals and whatnot,” he said.

“Oh, no, we’ll marry for love,” Garreth said confidently.

“Wait, so are you even engaged?” Ominis asked.

Garreth laughed. “No, of course not! We’re fifteen,” he replied. “Well, I’ll be sixteen next month.”

“So, are you courting?” Sebastian asked.

“Not yet,” Garreth said simply.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the ginger. “So, what you’re saying is, you have no actual claim to her,” he said.

Garreth shrugged, looking unbothered. “I may not have any official title yet, but I wanted to give you fair warning not to fall too hard for her.”

Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, thanks, mate,” he said sarcastically. “What makes you so certain she’d choose you, anyway?”

Garreth smirked at him. “I just am.”

He let that be his final word, as he saw you walking away from Professor Hecat. Sebastian just gaped at the overconfident boy as he left. “Gryffindors,” he grumbled.

“You do realize that includes MC,” Ominis pointed out.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut it.”

To Leander

Garreth overheard you telling Professor Shah that you didn’t have a telescope. He was disappointed when she paired you with Amit before he could offer. He felt a pang of jealousy when Amit offered his old telescope to you. He tried to refocus on the stargazing he was supposed to be doing. Leander was struggling to find Sirius. He helped his best friend before they hurried downstairs, seeking the warmth of the castle.

On the way down, he overheard Amit asking you to go out to an astronomy table with him. The small pang of jealousy he felt earlier bloomed into anguish. Was Amit really trying to earn your affections? He expected to have to compete with Sallow, but he felt bad at the idea of stealing you away from the good-natured Ravenclaw. Not bad enough to back off, of course, but still.

He and Leander walked all the way back to the Gryffindor common room. Garreth flopped into an armchair with a huff.

Leander raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s got you so worked up?” he asked.

“Amit’s trying to flirt with my future wife,” Garreth grumbled.

“Oh, not this again,” Leander muttered to himself.

“Yes, this again,” Garreth replied firmly. “I’m serious, Lee. She’s the one.”

Leander just shook his head in amusement. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” he said. “And why is it you think Amit is trying to steal her affections?”

“You didn’t hear him?” Garreth practically yelled. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. “First, he was all, ‘Oh, let me adjust the telescope for you.’ Then he just gave her his old telescope. And then, he invited her out exploring the grounds to go find an astronomy table.”

“He might as well have proposed right then,” Leander replied nonchalantly, still reclining lazily on the couch and biting back a smirk.

“I know! I–” Garreth started, but he paused, spinning around to face Leander. He glared at the taller boy. “You’re mocking me.”

Leander let the smile break onto his face. “A bit,” he admitted. “Gar, Amit is just friendly. He’d give an Ashwinder the shirt off his back if they said they were cold. You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” Garreth asked seriously, putting a hand on his hip as he eyed his friend.

“Yes,” Leander replied equally seriously. “And, with all due respect to your undying love, you barely know MC. What if you’re not compatible? What if she wants to move to Peru or something when she graduates? What if she doesn’t want kids?”

Garreth shrugged. “I don’t need kids,” he said.

Leander rolled his eyes. “Have you met your family?” he asked. “And you practically knocked me into the Black Lake jumping into my arms when you got the owl saying your brother and his wife are having a baby.”

Garreth blushed at the memory. “Okay, but they’re out snuggling up in the cold to go look at the stars,” he whined.

“Your brother and his pregnant wife?” Leander asked.

Garreth let out a frustrated groan. “No, MC and Amit! Keep up, Lee! There’s no chance he’s not trying to woo her in such a romantic setting. They’ll probably be out all night, knowing MC. They’ll cozy up as they watch the sunrise and kiss just as the sun peaks out over the horizon.”

“Ah, you’re back to the whole Amit thing,” Leander observed.

“He’s probably got his arms around her right now to ‘help’ her focus the telescope,” Garreth said. “Maybe I should go out there and–”

Garreth fell silent at the sound of the portrait creaking open. He was glad he did when he saw you stepping into the common room. “You’re home early!” he said. He had meant to say it in a cool, casual tone but ended up shouting it in excitement, instead.

“Am I?” you asked, giving him a confused look. “I didn’t know I had an appointment.”

“Well, I just heard Amit invite you out stargazing and figured you’d be gone a while,” Garreth blurted out. Leander smacked a hand over his face as he shook his head at his moronic friend.

“Oh,” you said. You shrugged. “The table was just on the castle wall. It didn’t take long to find.”

“Do you want kids?” Garreth asked, stunning both you and Leander.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Right now?” you asked. “Because I’ll have to pass, thanks.”

Garreth’s face flamed with embarrassment. “Merlin, no, that’s not what I…Not now, just…in the future. Possibly. I mean, do you like kids?” he corrected.

“Oh. Yeah, one day. I love kids,” you replied.

“Great!” he said before he could stop himself. “Because, um, my brother is having a baby soon, and I’ll have to do a lot of babysitting. I might need a hand, and Lee here is useless with kids, so…”

Leander glared at him, and Garreth just gave him an apologetic smile.

“That sounds fun!” you replied.

Garreth’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant! I’ll reach out if I need assistance, then,” he said with a dopey grin.

“Sounds good,” you said as you made your way toward the stairs up to the girls’ dormitories. “Good night, you two.”

They both wished you a good night. Once your back was turned, Garreth smiled wildly at Leander and mouthed ‘I told you’ rather aggressively at him. Leander just rolled his eyes.

To Poppy

Garreth sprinted down the corridors to reach the faculty tower. He took the stairs up it three at a time, grabbing the handrail to whip sharply around the landings. His legs were on fire by the time he reached the infirmary. He was too out of breath to form a proper sentence when he’d met Nurse Blainey at the entrance.

“Where…How…MC?” he managed between pants as his lungs heaved to get the oxygen his body so desperately needed.

“She’s okay, so just take a moment–” she said, holding up her hands to try to get the boy to pause and catch his breath.

“I need to see her. Please,” he urged.

He looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment, and the mediwitch took pity on the boy. She led him to your bedside. “She’s stable but hasn’t woken up yet. I gave her a sedative so I could change the dressing over a rather painful wound on her leg. It should heal completely in time, though,” she explained as she walked him over.

She held the curtain around your bed back, so Garreth could step inside of it. He gasped when he saw the cuts and bruises on your face and arms. The rest of you was hidden under the blanket, and he could only imagine how much worse it got. Poppy was sitting in a chair on the far side of the bed. Garreth sat down opposite her, pulling the chair closer to the bed while turning it around so he could face the head of the it. He held your hand gently in both of his.

You were a force to be reckoned with, but right now you looked so…fragile.

“What happened?” he rasped, looking over to Poppy.

“We…It happened so fast,” she said, head bowed in shame. “We were fighting a camp of poachers, and a manticore sprang out of their tent. It had a collar of goblin metal they used to control it. It attached her, scratching her, and biting her leg.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Merlin, her scream.” Poppy winced at the memory.

“A manticore?” Garreth repeated in disbelief. “Godric’s heart, I’m glad it didn’t sting her!”

“It almost did, but I cast depulso and knocked it off of her,” she said. “I just wish I’d reacted sooner.”

“Hey,” Garreth said gently as he held a hand out to her across the bed. She sheepishly took it as she finally raised her eyes to look at him. “You saved her life. I can’t thank you enough for that.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled gently at her.

“O-oh. Are you two…? I mean, I didn’t realize you were more than friends,” she said, pulling her hand out of his grasp and linking it with the other one in her lap. She trained her gaze on her hands rather than the boy sat across from her.

“We’re not. Not yet, anyway,” Garreth said as he looked at you with a fond smile on his face. He turned back to Poppy with a devilish grin. “Make no mistake, though, I’m gonna make her my wife one day.”

“Wow. That’s, um, wonderful,” she said, giving him a pained smile.

Garreth chuckled. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy for saying it, but I really do believe it. She’s captured my heart and soul, this one,” he said.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Poppy said sincerely.

“I hope so,” Garreth replied with a grateful smile. He looked back at you. “I know she hasn’t been here very long, but I don’t know what I’d do if I ever really lost her. I’d have to find a new supplier for all my potion ingredients and everything!” He spoke sincerely until the last sentence.

You let out a groan as you rubbed your head with the hand Garreth wasn’t holding. “I think I’m gonna have to close shop for a week or two,” you croaked out.

Garreth chuckled. “All the cute things I said, and you wake up for that part?” he teased.

You gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Gar,” you said. “I’ll try to time it better next time.”

The sincerity in your voice nearly broke his heart. He reached a hand up to stroke your cheek. “Hey, no, I was just joking,” he said sweetly. “But there better not be a ‘next time,’ and I’m very serious about that. No more close calls like this.”

You nodded your head slowly. Your eyes were half closed. “That sounds good to me,” you said.

He managed a small smile. He’d been a nervous wreck when he heard you were in the infirmary with serious injuries. It was a relief just to talk to you. “Get some rest now, okay? We’ll be here,” he said.

“M’kay,” you agreed with a soft sigh. Your eyes were already closing again, heavy with exhaustion.

Garreth stroked the back of your hand as he carefully watched the bruises on your face fade. It was slow – barely noticeable as it happened – but after a few hours the dark, angry purple marks had shrunk with the remaining areas turned faded hues of yellow and green. He delicately brushed the hair back from your face. Your cuts were now thin lines of new flesh, pink and tender-looking. Garreth traced some of the lines on your arm carefully with his left index finger. His right hand continued to hold yours.

Curfew came before you roused again. Nurse Blainey came to dismiss the students still by your bedside. Poppy stood to leave, but Garreth requested to stay.

“I assure your she’s in capable hands, Mr. Weasley,” the mediwitch said. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over for today. You may come back when they begin tomorrow. After breakfast.”

He had skipped dinner, though he didn’t know how Nurse Blainey had known. The meal had just begun when he got the news of your injury.

Garreth trudged out alongside Poppy. “I’m glad she has someone who cares so deeply for her,” the mousy girl said as they left the hospital wing. “She’s my best friend – and only friend, really – and I want her to be happy.”

Garreth nodded with a pensive look on his face. “Thank you, Poppy,” he said. “I’m glad she’s got you to watch her back out there.”

She gave him a tight smile and a nod. She still felt responsible.

They parted once they left the faculty tower, heading to their separate common rooms. Garreth had a fitful night sleep before getting out of bed before the sun was up. He ate a rushed breakfast before returning to the hospital wing. You were sat up in the bed, eating your own breakfast from a tray set over your lap. You smiled when you saw him approaching.

“If it isn’t my favourite customer,” you said with a smirk.

Garreth rolled his eyes playfully. “How is it that was the only thing you got from my visit yesterday?” he asked.

You chuckled. “I was heavily medicated,” you replied with a shrug. You shifted to sit toward the left side of the bed, grimacing as you pulled your right leg over.

Garreth lunged forward to help when he saw your pained expression, but it was gone in an instant. You patted the newly open spot on the bed next to you. He carefully sat down, keeping an eye on your leg so he didn’t bump it.

“So, what else did you say when you came to visit?” you asked. “I have it on good authority it was quite cute.”

Garreth’s cheeks flushed. “Just, um, that I was very relieved you were okay and wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yes, well, it would put a damper on our marriage if I was dead before it began,” you joked.

Garreth just gave you a shy smile.

You had known for a while how Garreth liked to tell people he was going to marry you one day. You thought it was funny and would join in on the joke from time to time. You took it as a compliment. He usually tied it to some praise of your skill, whether in combat, on a broom, or brewing potions. He had a flare for the dramatic, so you didn’t read too much into it. You’d heard him tell Leander he could kiss him when the taller boy had bought him a set of rare potion ingredients for his birthday.

Garreth was warm and affectionate, but he didn’t show signs that there was real weight to his jests. There were no intense stares or lingering touches like there were with a certain Slytherin. He was affectionate with you but not in an intimate way. He would give big bear hugs and would sometimes grab your wrist to drag you somewhere exciting. However, he never rested his hand on your lower back as he led you somewhere nor held your hand. Well, last night was an exception. You were fairly certain that when you had awoken last night, he had been holding your right hand, while Poppy had held your left.

Poppy. You two had become fast friends. She was the reason you wouldn’t entertain his affections even if you had thought them genuine. She had quite the crush on the kind-hearted ginger. She’d fallen for him shortly after you introduced them. She gushed about him constantly. You could never hurt her like it would if you started courting Garreth. She would be devastated.

“How are you feeling?” Garreth asked. His brow was furrowed with worry.

“As well as can be expected. The bastard took a nice chunk out of my calf,” you explained. “Human face but wicked sharp teeth, apparently.”

He looked at you with sad eyes. “Nurse Blainey said you’d recover fully. It that still true?”

You nodded. “Far as I know.”

“Good.” He bit his cheek as his hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He put on a brave face before looking back at you. “And until you’re 100%, I’ll be by your side. Whatever you need.”

You couldn’t help but smile. He really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. “I think I’ll be more than taken care of between you and Poppy,” you said fondly. “Speaking of, it’s cute that you two stayed with me together last night.”

Garreth gave you a puzzled look. “Cute?” he asked.

You gave a noncommittal shrug and forced your smile to broaden into a playful grin. “Yeah, I mean, I think it’s sweet. You two are just cute together.”

Garreth was really baffled now. Together? he thought. He and Poppy had hardly been ‘together.’ They sat on opposite sides of your bed, tending to you. Did you think he fancied Poppy? He was confused how you could. He thought he’d been rather obvious in his affections for you, while always trying to be respectful.

“Oh,” was all he managed to say.

You couldn’t tell if he didn’t like Poppy back or was just being shy about his feelings. So, you decided to probe a bit. “Have you ever thought about asking her out?” you said, attempting nonchalance.

“Erm, no. I can’t say I have,” he replied honestly. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t claim to know much about girls, but he was fairly certain they didn’t try to set up boys they fancied with their friends. “Do you…think I should?”

You blinked rapidly. You didn’t know what you thought. He and Poppy seemed a good fit. They were both so bubbly. You couldn’t imagine they’d be anything but happy together. But the imagine made you curiously sombre. “Well…” you started, unsure how you would finish the sentence.

Nurse Blainey pulled back the curtain. She scowled at Garreth sitting in your bed.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said sternly. “If you could step out, I need to examine my patient.”

He quickly did as told. Blainey changed your bandages on your leg, and he could tell two things from the stifled noises you made. The first was that you were in more pain than you let on. The second was that you were trying to hide it for his sake. That was only further confirmed when Blainey let him back in. You were smiling wide, but your knuckles blanched with how hard you were gripping the sheets.

“Has she had anything for pain today?” Garreth asked the mediwitch timidly.

“No, she’s refused the pain potion since she woke up,” Nurse Blainey replied.

He shot you a stern look. “She’s obviously in pain.”

She arched a brow at him. “She’s perfectly capable of requesting the potion herself.”

“I don’t like the potion. It makes me feel foggy,” you told him.

“So?” Garreth asked, a bit irritated by your stubbornness. “You’re recovering. And it’s Sunday. You should be resting, anyway.”

He looked to Blainey for support. “Are you in pain, dear?” she asked you kindly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied genially, though you gave Garreth a hard glare.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you grit your teeth any harder, you’ll shatter them,” he argued. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t want to sleep all day. I’d rather be able to hang out with you,” you said.

“Well, I don’t want to see you suffer!” he shot back, his voice cracking. He winced at his own volume.

“Mr. Weasley!” Nurse Blainey hissed. “I will not tolerate you yelling at my patient.”

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. He sank into the chair beside you, not wanting to draw further ire from Blainey by getting back in your bed. “Please, MC. I don’t like seeing you in pain. I’ll read to you or something while you rest.”

“You wouldn’t be bored?” you asked.

He rolled his eyes as a slight smirk came to his lips. “With you around? Never,” he replied.

“Could I maybe just do a half dose?” you said to Nurse Blainey. “My leg is starting to ache pretty badly.”

Garreth resisted the urge to insist you take a full dose. It was a start, at least.

The mediwitch nodded and fetched the potion.

“Thank you,” he murmured after you downed the liquid.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I should’ve taken it sooner. I was…being stubborn.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you have a habit of that,” he teased.

You gave him a playful glare.

The sounds of hurried footsteps announced the arrival of a certain two Slytherins. “MC!” Sebastian said. “I just heard what happened. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Blainey said I should make a full recovery.”

Garreth saw you wince as Sebastian wrapped you in a big hug. “Be careful!” the Gryffindor hissed.

Sebastian ignored him. He held your face in both of his hands when he pulled back. For a brief, terrifying moment, Garreth thought the Slytherin was about to kiss you. “No more taking on poachers alone,” the brunette ordered.

“I wasn’t alone,” you argued.

Sebastian side-eyed Garreth before looking back at you. “You still didn’t have proper help. You need to tell me when you’re going to do something dangerous,” he said, still holding your face. “Promise me.”

“Poppy is proper help,” you said defensively. “We’ve been fine every other time. Fought dozens of poachers. The manticore just caught us by surprise. I don’t need you to babysit me, Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s hands dropped to his sides. “You were with Poppy?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Well, I can still help keep you safe. Obviously these poachers are getting more dangerous animals,” he said. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t come running off with us every time. You’ve got Anne to think about. You should stay focused on helping her,” you argued.

Sebastian tensed. “Then stay and help me,” he asked.

You chewed your lip “I…I can’t just stop. Anne’s got you, but no one is stopping these poachers. Poppy and I are the only ones saving those creatures.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “So, you care more about those beasts than Anne?” he growled.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” you insisted.

Sebastian scowled. “That seems like it’s exactly what you’re saying.” Without another word, he stormed out of the hospital wing.

“Sebastian!” Ominis called after him. He sighed when his friend didn’t stop. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “Feel better, MC.”

Ominis pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving, as well.

Garreth was seething until he saw the tears slipping down your cheeks and grief gripped him. “Hey,” he said gently, sliding into the bed next to you. He wrapped his arms around you in a gentle embrace. “He’s being an idiot. He’s probably just scared. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

You shook your head. “No, he did. He’s always getting upset with us about not doing more for Anne.” You sighed. “I mean, we’ve tried. I just…I don’t know what else to do.”

Garreth was shocked at the treatment from your supposed friend. He had half a mind to track the Slytherin down and try to shake some sense into him. But he knew it was better to stay with you, so he did. You leaned into him as the potion’s effects took hold and the drowsiness set in.

Garreth stayed with you the whole day. Poppy came by later that morning. Leander brought him lunch and a book to read to you. Natty and the other Gryffindors came to visit you in the afternoon. Even Imelda stopped by before dinner. Sebastian came back and apologized late in the evening. He seemed less than pleased to see Garreth cuddled up to you, but he didn’t comment on it.

Garreth helped rush visits along when you would start to get tired and drift off. Blainey was in and out of the curtained-off space throughout the day. She kicked Garreth out when she needed to do dressing changes. She didn’t say anything about Garreth sitting with you in your bed, though. Nor did she kick him out when you both fell asleep to him reading the book Leander had brought.

Blainey released you the next day. Garreth thought it was too soon, but you were eager to get out. He convinced the teachers to let him follow your schedule so he could carry your things for you.

“I could’ve levitated them,” you said.

“You shouldn’t exert your magic, either,” he argued. “Besides, I told you I’d be by your side until you’re all better.”

You blushed at the thought. You had always hoped to find a way to spend more time with him. This wasn’t exactly how you would have chosen to go about it, but you would take it.

To You

The manticore incident had brought you and Garreth closer than ever. Shortly after, Poppy told you she no longer had a crush on the outgoing Gryffindor. No longer holding yourself back, your own feelings for him bloomed. Frustratingly, you felt that you constantly got mixed signals from him. He still had a running joke where he would assert to others that he would marry you one day. However, he never asked you out. Though, on rare occasions, he did hold your hand – grabbing it to drag you off to see his newest brew or to comfort you when you were upset.

Unbeknownst to you, Garreth’s own feelings had grown similarly. He was head over heels for you. But he was scared. The stronger his feelings became, the more terrified he felt that you wouldn’t return them. Leander had to practically shake sense into him that he had better ask you out before someone else did. The taller boy even threatened to ask you out himself if Garreth didn’t soon. The threat almost started a brawl between the best friends until Leander explained that he wasn’t actually interested in you – just trying to motivate Garreth to get his head out of his arse.

So, Garreth came up with a plan. He went to Honeydukes on the next Hogsmeade trip, buying all your favourite sweets. He even added a bottle of his newly-perfected Fizzing Whizzbeer that you’d raved about after trying. He arranged it all in a decorative box and tied a nice ribbon around it.

He brought it to you at dinner. He hadn’t even sat down when he handed it over.

“Thank you,” you said, surprised and a bit confused as you took the present. You were elated, if a bit puzzled, when you saw the contents. “What’s all this for?”

Garreth cleared his throat. “Well, everyone knows we’re going to be married one day. And, mark my words, we will be,” he started. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but couldn’t help smiling. Everyone else just nodded along, having heard his proclamation many times. Natty was the only one who looked shocked by the news.

“They are betrothed?” she whispered to Leander.

He rolled his eyes. “No, but it’s a long story,” he replied.

She just shrugged.

“So, I figured it was about time I started the formal process. I’d like to court you, MC, if you’ll have me,” Garreth said. He looked exceptionally nervous.

You set the box down on the bench before springing to your feet. You threw your arms around Garreth’s neck. “Of course!” you said.

“Really?” Garreth asked, dumbstruck.

“Definitely!” you assured him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as he spun around. “Brilliant! Will you go to dinner with me this Saturday?”

You beamed at him as your feet returned to solid ground. “That sounds lovely.”

Natty gave Leander a confused look. “I thought they started courting months ago,” she said.

“Yeah, you would think, wouldn’t you?” he replied with a chuckle.

To Your Dad

Garreth shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. He checked his hair in the glass of the tavern window for the eight time. It wasn’t the first time he was meeting your father. They first met three years ago when Garreth visited you over the summer between fifth and sixth years. When the door to the establishment opened and he spotted the familiar broad shoulders and greying hair, Garreth immediately stood up.

“Garreth, my boy, good to see you,” your father greeted genially.

Garreth shook his hand. “You, as well, sir,” he said. “I’m glad you were able to meet today.”

“So, what brings you out to my neck of the woods?” your father asked as he took his seat.

Garreth could feel the heat rising in his collar, and your dad had to hold back a smile. He had strong suspicions on why the young man had reached out.

“Well, sir, I wanted to discuss some things with you about the future,” he said. “Of course, I asked you to join me for dinner. I don’t want to get too bogged down in the details on empty stomachs.”

“Oh, nonsense,” your father replied, waving him off. “Let’s hear these plans.”

“Right,” Garreth said, a bit shellshocked. “Well, sir, I’ve just finished my apprenticeship with J. Pippin. I took a job with a potioneering company in London, where I intend to stay until I’ve saved enough to start my own shop. I’ve just purchased a home in Marylebone, where I hope to settle down, you see.”

“London’s a far way from Plymouth,” your father interjected gravely, unable to help himself.

Garreth swallowed thickly. “It is,” he agreed. “Though, it’s within floo range.”

“Quite right,” your dad agreed with a slight smile. “Sorry to interrupt, lad. You were saying about settling down.”

“Your daughter and I have been discussing our plans. We’d quite like to settle down together. That is to say, we intend to marry–”

“Do you, now?” you father interjected again. His brow was arched.

Garreth nodded, steeling his nerves. “I haven’t proposed yet, of course,” he continued, and your father visibly relaxed. “But, like I said, we’ve discussed it, and I feel quite certain she would say yes. I wanted to meet today to ask for your blessing.”

Your father smiled. “Yes, I thought that might be the case,” he said. “My daughter, my only child, is quite an exceptional young woman, as you’re aware.”

“I am,” Garreth agreed as worry began to set in.

“Not just for her rare magic. She has many talents. And she’s quite driven.” He levelled Garreth with a rather frighteningly intense gaze. “I have very high standards for the man with whom she endeavours to spend her life.”

“Of course, sir,” Garreth said, trying not to feel crestfallen.

“I dare say she’ll need a man of equal ambition to keep up with her,” he said. “Though, he must still put his family first. I would never condemn her to a marriage with someone less than madly in love with her. And, indeed, I would do everything I could to prevent such an unfit union. I assure you, I am not an adversary to be taken lightly.”

Garreth had prepared himself for the possibility that your father would not give his blessing, but he had not foreseen him actively trying to prevent your marriage.

“I don’t think any man fully capable of deserving my daughter, though I am aware that I am biased on the matter,” your dad continued without giving Garreth a chance to speak. “However, I don’t think I could have hand-picked a better partner for her than she has chosen for herself.”

“I’m sure I can’t fault you for feeling that way, sir. I–” Garreth broke off as the meaning of the sternly spoken words sunk in. He gaped at your father briefly before collecting himself.

A grin broke out on the older man’s face. “I’d be honoured to have you in the family, son.”

Garreth stood, shaking your father’s hand again. He pulled his future son-in-law into a hug. “Thank you, sir. I know it’ll mean a lot to MC to have your blessing,” Garreth said.

Your dad clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, it means a lot to me that you care for her so deeply,” he replied. “You’re a good man, Garreth. Even if you were a bit of a scamp at school.” He winked.

Garreth’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, well, I’ve come to have a certain respect for the rules these days.”

Your dad chuckled. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “I got into my fair share of trouble at Hogwarts back in my day. And I know my daughter took after me.”

Garreth laughed. “She certainly has an adventurous spirit.”

Your dad shared some stories about the hijinks he’d gotten up to in school as they shared a meal. Garreth was glad he’d gotten the asking done before eating, as his stomach settled considerably. He couldn’t wait to tell you that your dad gave his blessing. More than that, he couldn’t wait to propose. But, most of all, he couldn’t wait to finally make you his wife like he swore he would years ago.

[belovedmusings]

You know you're my weakness.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part four of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and tonight you are at his very first show with his new band, Curse Manipulator, lead by bassist and singer, Suguru Geto. You and Suguru are very attracted to each other, and your loyalty to Choso is once again put to the test by Suguru.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, Choso is a sweetheart, Suguru is irresistible, drunk Choso, emotional Choso, slow burn, no “y/n” for immersion, reader has no defining features for inclusivity, mild grinding and groping

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: eyes don’t lie (Isabel LaRosa), Bad Romance (Lady Gaga), Jealous Guy (The Weeknd)

A/N: so there’s no smut again but there’s adult themes so I tagged 18+. It’s a long chapter so get comfortable. Hope you enjoy!!

Read below cut:

The show ends and as soon as the members leave the stage for the roadies to start clearing away the equipment, you meet with Choso and you all make your way back to the dressing room.

Suguru holds the door open for everyone and they all bee-line for the water bottles on the table where the pizza was earlier, the bassist making his way there last as you move to sit on the sofa. You watch as he grabs a bottle and unscrews the cap, tilting his head back to drink.

Oh.

You aren’t prepared for the sight of his exposed neck, his Adam’s apple and the veins near where his shoulders meet the column, the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt, skin sweaty from exertion while performing…

His eyes find yours as he finishes, but your attention is taken from him when Choso sits beside you and hands you an extra water he grabbed. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you turn to look at him instead.

“Doing okay?” He asks you, eyes still shining with concern. You nod, clutching the bottle in both hands.

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head after a moment, “Forget about me. You did amazing up there, Chos’. You’re a natural. Really—it was like I was seeing a celebrity.”

His face heats and he laughs in a huff, looking at his lap. “I don’t know about that, but…”

“Seriously,” you say, wanting him to know just how good he did. “If I wasn’t already dating you I’d have fallen in love in the crowd. I’m sure people did.”

He covers his face with his free hand and groans in embarrassment. “Okay, okay.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his reddened cheek.

Then, you feel the other side of the couch dip, followed by that silky voice that haunts your fantasies.

“How was your first Curse Manipulator show?”

You look to your other side to see Suguru sitting next to you, his back to the armrest so that he can face you, leg on the couch bent so his foot rests on the knee of his other, taking up as much space as he can as per usual. His shin is touching your thigh and it’s playing with the soundness of your mind.

He asked you a question. Answer it before you give yourself away.

“It was amazing,” you say truthfully. “This band is special, seriously.”

The smile on his face remains the same. “How’d I do?”

What? He asked me that in front of Choso?

You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to look at your boyfriend. That would make you look guilty, and you’re not. You haven’t done anything.

Besides let him mark your wrist during a temporary lapse in control…stop. Focus.

“Of course you did great,” you do your best to laugh through it. He grins wider, nodding to himself. He leans against his fist, elbow digging into the cushion beside him. He sobers up and looks at you seriously after a moment.

“How are you doing? That creep didn’t get to you too bad, did he?” Asks Suguru. Choso shifts beside you.

“He didn’t,” Choso answers for you, “Thanks for calling him out.”

“Of course. I think we saw him at the same time,” Suguru replies. He shifts his attention from Choso back to you. “Men can be insufferable sometimes.”

With the way you’re looking at him, you’re the one who feels insufferable, wanting him in the most primal way possible. You also think that he’s talking about himself. He wants you the same way, if that damn mark that seems to be tingling subtly beneath your sleeve under his gaze is anything to go by.

“Yeah, they can,” you agree distractedly. The air seems electric, and the only thing that breaks the trance you’re in is Larue’s voice.

“Who’s ready to party?!” He shouts, causing you to jolt, flitting your eyes back to him. He’s clapping his hands together as Miguel is laughing.

“I got dibs on spinning the tracks first. Venue owner said I could,” Miguel replies, the two making their ways to the door. “You guys coming?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll join you in a minute,” Suguru replies easily. “Don’t wait on our account.”

“All right,” shrugs Miguel, the two exiting the room.

Choso sighs beside you. “Should I drink tonight?”

You raise a brow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I never do. It would be nice just this once.”

“Sure,” you shrug. You’ve heard from him that he’s sort of a lightweight, but you’ve never seen it yourself. “Just don’t get carried away.”

He smiles at you. “I won’t.”

“Are you bad with alcohol?” Asks Suguru, and Choso hums.

“Yeah. Can’t hold it well,” he answers.

“I see. I don’t really like it,” Suguru replies. He glances at you. “And you?”

“I think I’ll stay sober. Especially since Choso’s going to drink, I’ll be our driver tonight.”

“I see,” Suguru nods, getting off of the couch. “Well, should we go join everyone?”

You nod, standing up with Choso. Your hand interlocks with his, and the three of you head to the house of the venue.

—-

Miguel has good taste in music. The concert-venue-turned-club is lively with people dancing and having fun, dim lighting and the heavy smell of weed and alcohol permeating the air. It’s loud so you can’t really talk, but you and Choso are glued to the bar, your boyfriend nursing his third drink of the night. The two of you don’t really like outings such as this, but out of the two of you, Choso is more out of place. He doesn’t really like to dance like this—provocative grinding, groping in public—the one time you two did dance together in public it was at his cousin’s wedding a few months ago, wherein you waltzed together.

You don’t really favor the idea of clubbing, but you wouldn’t mind it if you trusted the person you were with. Choso wouldn’t want to do it, and since he doesn’t, you don’t dwell on joining in. Sticking to the bar is fine.

What isn’t fine is the sight of Suguru at the edge of the crowd a little ways away from you, dancing with some woman who approached him when the current song began. His hands are on her waist but his eyes are on you, and it’s doing very sinful things to you. Taunting you. Beckoning you. Provoking you.

He keeps her facing away from himself, their bodies pressed together, and the sight makes your blood boil. You want him off of her. You want him on you instead, to be dancing with him, to feel his body against yours, his arms around you, his breath on your ear—

It’s insane.

How are you getting jealous over a man who isn’t your boyfriend?

It’s not like you have any sort of claim on him. You have no right. And yet, when the woman makes a very obvious, lewd movement against him while she turns to whisper in his ear you grimace, turning away pointedly. You don’t look at him again.

Another few songs pass, Choso downs another drink, and that’s when your boyfriend leans over to speak to you.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” he says, “I’m gonna go get Suguru to be with you while I’m gone. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Your heart starts racing. “Uh…”

“I’ll be back.”

Before you can stop him, he’s making his way over to his bandmate. You blink mindlessly, watching them talk, and then Suguru is politely parting with the girl he was with, moving towards you while Choso heads the other direction.

Suguru settles right next to you once he’s there, an easy smile across his features.

“Hey,” he greets, and you see it more than hear it due to the volume of the music.

“Hi.”

His eyes run over you for a second before he leans back. He sighs heavily, as if words that were on the tip of his tongue are fizzling out, and he takes another moment of consideration before moving closer so you can hear him.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your breath hitches nervously at his proximity, his face only a few breaths away, and against your better judgment, you steal a long glance, admiring the perfect structure of his features shamelessly.

“Is there something on my face?” He asks with a grin, and you blink a few times to get your head back on.

“No, no…”

“Then what is it?” He still has that content, easy expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.”

His eyebrows raise and you watch his eyes widen a fraction, lips parting in slight shock. Then, he laughs bashfully, eyes turning into crescents, and you feel your ribcage starting to melt.

“I’ve heard hot or sexy, but never ‘pretty’,” he says, eyeing you mirthfully. “I take that as the highest form of compliment.”

So, other people have voiced their thoughts on him, have flirted—who, you wonder. And how did he take it? Was he flattered? Did he flirt back?

“What’d that girl you were dancing with tell you that you were?” You ask boldly, shocked to hear those words bear the contours of your voice. His lips turn up in a smirk.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question truthfully?” It’s said lowly, and coupled with his lidded eyes, you feel heat twist in your gut. Now you’re intrigued.

“I’m curious now.”

His lips tug up further at a corner before he leans forward even more, pressing his mouth to your ear. Your eyes flutter closed automatically, body subconsciously leaning into his. “She said I felt big.”

Despite the hot stuffy air of the room, suddenly your body is ravaged with goosebumps. Your breath escapes you, and as his eyes meet yours again, you feel certain he’s taken a few years off of your life span with his existence.

“You’re driving me insane,” you breathe, the words out before you can stop them, and it must be the type of response he’s looking for because he reaches up and touches your cheek with the tips of his fingers, holding your eyes with his stare.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

You inhale slowly, just sizing him up for a long moment. Around you, people are dancing, grinding, drinking, moving and yet everything feels so still. All you see is Suguru right now, and you don’t want him to stop touching you.

Your eyes flit down to his mouth, silver rings glinting against the dim lighting, and you watch his mouth pull into a smile.

“You never answered my question from earlier, love.”

That term of endearment punches through your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. Love. He called you love.

He asked you a question earlier. What was it? What is he talking about? Why is it so hot, all of a sudden? You need to cool off.

A drink. He asked if you wanted a drink.

“Oh, uh, no,” you shake your head, “I’m driving Choso home, remember?”

Choso. Fuck.

You back up, sense returning to you as you remember who you are and who you’re with.

Suguru’s smile falls slightly as you put distance between the two of you, and he makes a move to get closer again. Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar frame, and turn out on instinct, abruptly making Suguru aware of Choso’s approaching figure.

He stills and stays put in his spot, looking over as Choso gets closer. As he comes into view, you notice tears in his eyes.

Your heart drops. You and Suguru had just been close enough to kiss. You’re certain that given one wrong move, you would have kissed. Did he see? Does he know about whatever you have going on with Suguru?

You turn to look back at Suguru, fear shining through your eyes, and he instantly turns towards your boyfriend, alert now. Whether he’s preparing to remedy the situation or lie completely, you don’t know, but Choso sees you and hurries over, hands outstretched for you.

“Baby,” he sniffles as soon as you’re within earshot, grabbing you and pulling you in. You let him, stunned and confused. You don’t think he’d react this way if he had seen, so what is it?

“What, honey?” You ask, cupping his face in concern. “Why are you crying, Chos’?”

“I just love you so much,” he blubbers, eyeliner running down his cheeks. “I do, I really do…”

It registers what’s going on. He’d told you before that he can’t hold his liquor well at all. He rarely drinks because of that. You’ve never seen him so smashed—he must be an emotional drunk. It must have really kicked in while he was separated from you.

“Oh,” you exhale in relief, realizing he doesn’t seem to know about the…thing between you and Suguru, “I love you too, baby.”

“Thank you,” he sniffles, peppering your face with kisses. His weight is being pushed on you and it makes you stumble with the effort to hold him up. “Thank you so much…”

“Is he okay?”

You turn to look at Suguru, who is watching worriedly. Choso hiccups and looks up at Suguru, nodding profusely.

“Yes. Yeah, everything is amazing,” he sobs, “I’m so happy…I’m so in love…”

He kisses your cheek again, putting more of his weight on you and you stumble to balance it. Suguru takes action and wraps one of Choso’s arms around his shoulders to hold him up, taking the pressure off of you.

Choso clings to your waist with the other hand, leaning on you with his head, getting tears on your neck. He can’t even stand—it’s time to leave. Any longer and he’ll probably pass out right here.

“He’s really drunk,” you tell Suguru. “Help me get him to the car. I have to take him home.”

Suguru nods, and the three of you trudge to the main door, weaving through the people to leave the pounding music behind.

As soon as you’re out you take a breath, sighing contentedly as fresh air hits your system. You hadn’t realized just how stuffy it was.

Choso makes a noise in the back of his throat and starts scattering more kisses over your face, making the three of you stagger for balance.

“Choso,” you say, trying to ground him, “Choso, let’s sit down, okay?”

He nods, allowing Suguru to help him to sit on the curb, feet in front of himself over the pavement. You look up at Suguru, who is watching you two silently. You can’t leave Choso like this, and you don’t really want to be alone in this area either.

“Did you drink yet?” You ask him.

“No.”

“Can you get my things, bring my car around, and help me get him into it?”

The bassist nods without hesitation. “Is it all in your bag back in the dressing room?”

“Yeah. You…you know my car, right?” How could he not?

He grins slyly, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and nods. “I do. I’ll be back.”

You watch him go back inside, turning all of your attention to your boyfriend. He’s gazing at you like you hung all of the stars in his drunken stupor.

He says your name, and you reach up to brush a strand of matted hair from his forehead. “Yeah?”

“I’m a good big brother, aren’t I?”

The question catches you off-guard. You know his brothers, of course, you’ve met all ten of them and even have good relationships with a few. His youngest brother, Yuuji, is just adorable, and gushes about Choso all of the time.

“Of course you’re a good big brother. You’re a great big brother,” you answer, not sure where he’s going with it. “Why?”

“In that case…d’you think I’d make a good father?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh…well…yes, I don’t see why not.”

He smiles tenderly at you. “I want to have kids with you.”

Your jaw drops. What?

You’ve never talked about kids before. Ever. Is he just so drunk that he’s talking out of his ass, or does he mean it? You find it hard to believe he’d just be saying that, even like this.

“You do?”

“I really do,” he nods in confirmation, starting to ramble through his tears, “We should start tonight. We can have ten like my parents did. Or more. I love you so much, we can have a huge family—”

“Choso,” you interrupt him with a hand on his cheek. “Slow down, okay? It’s okay.”

He sniffles. “D'you not want them with me?”

You’re at a loss. You honestly haven’t thought about kids a ton. Tonight is the last night you’d have expected a conversation like this to come up.

“Chos’, we haven’t talked about it before,” you say softly. “It’s a big decision.”

He starts to cry more. “I’m sorry. I’m too emotional right now…but I just love you…”

You grunt in surprise as he thuds his forehead against your chest, clinging to you tightly. For a minute he just cries, and you pet his hair soothingly, unsure of what to do. He is an emotional guy—he cries during sad movies, sometimes even when he sees a video of cute puppies or kittens. But this is different. You can see why he steers clear of alcohol.

“I love you too,” you reply, kissing his hair. “I’m here, Choso, don’t worry.”

He nods, hugging you closer as he just lets it out.

You stay like that until Suguru brings the car around, parking it in front of you and getting out.

“Okay, let’s go home, babe,” you tell Choso, and he nods blearily.

Suguru helps you get Choso into the backseat, lifting his strong body from the ground and guiding him in. You buckle your boyfriend in and then close the door, sighing heavily.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru as he drops the keys into your hand.

“Any time,” he tells you easily. “Are you gonna be able to get him to your place okay? He’s probably going to pass out."

You hadn’t thought about that. You won’t be able to get Choso out of the car alone, and he’s already looking ready to doze off.

“Yeah…I probably won’t be able to.”

“Want me to come with you?” Asks Suguru.

Letting him into your home with a belligerent Choso is not a good idea, but you don’t have a choice. You do need his help.

“Sure. Uh, please.”

And that’s how you end up driving home with not only your boyfriend in the backseat, but also with Suguru beside you on the passenger’s side.

The first part of the ride is quiet save for the low music on your speakers, Choso snoozing away behind you. You keep glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror, unable to stop thinking about what he’d said to you on the curb of the venue.

About halfway through, Suguru speaks up at a low volume.

“You look troubled, and you keep sighing,” he says to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You glance at him quickly, more of those confusing feelings bubbling up in your chest. He looks so good next to you in the car, waiting on your answer.

It wouldn’t be fair to talk to him about this before you’ve even processed it, let alone Choso. This is between the two of you, anyway. You don’t feel right delving into such an intimate topic with Suguru, so you opt to deflect.

“Just a lot happened tonight,” you shrug, “I mean, the concert was…eventful.”

“Right,” Suguru sighs, “I saw him bothering you, and…I don’t know, I just got upset. I spoke up before I could think—I’m sorry, by the way, for drawing attention to you like that. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

You definitely weren’t expecting him to have picked up on that.

“Oh, well…I mean, it was a lot of attention, but if you hadn’t, who knows what he would have done?” You reply, “Thank you for that.”

“No need to thank me,” Suguru runs a hand through his hair, “Guys like that only think with their second heads.”

It takes a pause, but once what he said registers, you can’t help but snort, which quickly bubbles up into a giggle. The next thing you know, the two of you are sharing a laugh, some of the tension dissolving from your shoulders.

You realize you’ve never heard his laugh before. It’s so pretty—like deep, smooth wind chimes. You chance a glance away from the road at him to see his smile, and god, is it breathtaking? You want to see him like this all of the time.

Oh god, are you developing a crush on him?

That can’t be, it’s pure lust you feel for him. Not actual feelings. That’s all. You shake the thoughts away and compose yourself, focusing back on the road.

“I think most guys think with their second heads,” you reply, and he huffs in amusement.

“Maybe. But there are some that think with their hearts, instead.”

You draw in a breath, looking at him again. He smiles earnestly at you this time, and it makes your heart feel twenty degrees hotter than the rest of your body.

“Yeah, there are,” you reply noncommittally, rushing to steer the subject away from where it’s headed. You won’t flirt with Suguru while your drunk boyfriend is passed out behind you. “So…what got you into music?”

He hums, giving you a look. “Curved me quick, didn’t you?”

Your face gets hot instantly at his tone. “No, well, I mean—”

“I’m teasing,” He chuckles softly. “I don’t mind. I got into it in high school. It’s a little bit of a sad thing, really—my family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to make friends with anyone. I turned to music to cope with the loneliness.”

You nod understandingly, flitting your eyes to him for a moment before asking, “Why’d you move so much?”

Suguru looks at you for a moment before saying, “My mom was a single mother. Well, she was, after my father left us when I was eight. He was addicted to gambling and never did anything to help around the house, so she was my sole caretaker anyway. He was awful—but that’s a different story,” he laughs quietly. “Anyway, she had a boyfriend after that, and he turned out to be obsessive and weird, so we had to move. I left my only friend behind, then. Her ex-boyfriend followed us around and we had to keep moving, it was this whole thing…”

He trails off, leaning on his knuckles against the window. You reach a red stoplight and look at him again, noticing the far-away glint in his eyes.

Without thinking, you reach over to place your hand on his leg to comfort him, earning you an appreciative smile from him. He covers your hand with his own, giving it a gentle pulse, and it makes your heart flutter.

The light turns green, glow cast upon his moon-kissed skin, and you turn back to face the dash, retracting your hand.

“Uh,” you begin, trying to minimize the tension suddenly between the two of you. “That’s…”

“Sad, I know,” He shrugs. “But I’ve come to terms with it. He left us alone after I had my growth spurt and decided to confront him head-on.”

Your brows raise. “Yeah? Did you…fight?”

“He was waiting for us in front of our apartment building,” Suguru explains, “Mom and I saw him getting back from school, so I got out of the car and basically told him if he didn’t fuck off, I’d break his legs.”

“No way,” You reply, glancing at him incredulously. “You said that? You weren’t afraid he had a weapon?”

“I guess I didn’t care,” Suguru answers, “My whole life, I’d been running, and struggling. So I figured if it ended badly, it didn’t matter.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement. “So…he listened, then?”

“The punch I threw after he tried hitting me first was pretty persuasive.”

Your mouth drops in shock. “You punched him?”

“Yeah, I did,” He says in a laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the violent type.”

“Well, I’m not violent, per say—that was the only time I got to that point. I’m very patient. But it was worn thin, back then. I’d had enough, and it was wearing my mother down, especially. I wanted to protect her, and I’m glad I did. After that, we stopped moving, I finished high school, performed on my own, met some people including Miguel, Larue, and our former bassist, Sukuna, and the rest is history.”

You consider his words, nodding for a moment. “That makes sense. That’s good that things became somewhat normal, after that.”

He shifts in his seat. “You know…I guess that’s partly why I got so upset when I saw that guy bothering you.”

It’s like he commands the beat of your heart. As soon as he says that, you feel it start to pound in your chest.

“You’re protective.”

“I am,” He agrees. “I’m just glad I could do something.”

You flash him a grateful smile, the car continuing to coast along the road at a pleasant speed.

“I’ve talked enough about me,” He says. “Tell me about yourself.”

The change in topic pulls a laugh out of you. “That’s pretty broad. What do you want to know?”

“Well, you told me about what you do for work back at Choso's audition. I guess…hobbies? Favorite movie, show, color, food, season?”

You snort quietly, deciding to play along. “Okay…”

You proceed to list off the answers to his questions in order, smiling at the nod of approval he gives you. “I see. Hmm…tell me about your family. Are you close? Who are the most important people in your life?”

The question is so intimate, it makes you feel a bit self-conscious. Still, it’s also really flattering that he’s so genuinely interested in you, so you answer him truthfully.

As you divulge in what is essentially your own backstory, he nods and listens, only humming on occasion. It carries on for the duration of the car ride, ending with, “…and that’s how Choso and I got together. He’s one of the most important people in my life, for obvious reasons.”

“Huh, I see. That’s a sweet story,” He replies, “You know, he talks about you a lot. I can tell he really loves you. It’s like you’re the center of his universe.”

A rush of warmth fills your chest, and you glance into the rearview-mirror, smiling softly as he continues sleeping away, out like a light.

“I can’t blame him,” Suguru tells you. “I’d act the same way, if you were mine.”

He says it so casually, it takes a moment for you to remember yourself relative to the statement. As soon as you do, you also realize that you’re turning onto your street.

You try a lighthearted response. “Oh? Am I that special?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He says it so sincerely, there’s no room for jokes. You just sigh, pulling the car up to the curb in front of your place.

“This is it?” He asks, looking out of the window as you put it into park and take the key from the ignition.

“Yeah,” you answer, unbuckling and grabbing your bag, stepping out of the driver’s seat. “Come on, let’s get him up to bed.”

Suguru obeys, getting out of the car and moving to get your boyfriend.

He ducks to grab Choso’s arm, tugging him towards the door and bending his knees to pull him onto his back, draping him across. He holds onto his wrists to steady him, standing up straight with a labored huff.

You try desperately not to notice the strain of his muscles but you fail instantly. As he kicks the door closed gently, you take a deep breath, turning away to lock the car.

“Okay,” you say, “Follow me.”

The two of you head towards the destination, keeping quiet so as not to disturb neighbors. Soon, you get inside, and after you lock the front door closed, you lead Suguru to your bedroom, where he eases Choso off of his back. Your boyfriend goes limply, laying facing up.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru. “I’ll clean him up a little. Wait for me in the living room?”

Suguru gives you a smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, he exits the room, leaving you to take care of Choso. You turn to look at your boyfriend, deciding to deal with his shoes first. After that, you ease into a rhythm, getting him out of his socks and pants.

Next, you take his hair from their ties, massaging the top of his head to relieve some of the strain. He grumbles in his sleep, leaning into your touch, and your gaze softens.

His eyelashes flutter, and then he’s blinking them open.

“Hey,” you greet quietly, “We’re home now. Suguru helped me get you here.”

He sniffles, groaning before he speaks gravely, “I feel like death.”

“That’s the last time you get hammered, Chos’,” you sigh, and he nods deliriously.

“…won’t ‘nymore,” he croaks, and you lean down, pecking his forehead. The furrow in his brow smoothes out, and within a minute, his breathing turns even and he’s asleep once more.

You sigh, deciding to just clean his makeup off—if he wakes up again, he can properly get under the covers himself. Moving to the bathroom, you grab a makeup wipe and wet a washcloth with warm water, padding back into your room to clean your boyfriend’s face up.

Once it’s free of sweat and eyeliner streaks, you throw the wipe away and toss the cloth into your hamper, taking a moment to gaze at your boyfriend from near the door.

What he’d said earlier returns to you. Wanting children with you—was he really being serious? It just doesn't seem feasible. He’s about to take off with the band. If you got pregnant now, you’d basically be a single mother. You wouldn’t be able to go everywhere with him. The kids would only see him when he’s not busy. Is that a life that you want? One where he gets to go off and be some famous star, and you stay home and take care of the kids?

You sigh. It sounds so nineteen-fifties-nuclear-family. Maybe kids would be nice, but with the lifestyle you two are about to live, it changes things. You don’t know if that’s what you want for yourself, and up until tonight, you had no clue Choso was even considering kids like that. Until you can talk sober, there’s no point in ruminating on it, you suppose. You’ll just have to be honest with your uncertainty when the conversation comes up.

All you know for sure is that you love him, and that he loves you. Anything else between you, the two of you can work out.

With that, you decide to table the thoughts for now so that you can wrap the night up with Suguru. You reach into your pocket, checking the time, way past midnight. You’re not going to drive Suguru all the way back to his car where it is at the venue. You’re tired and it’s pretty far away. Making him call a ride service sounds wrong, too. He could stay the night, right? That’s fine. You could set him up on the couch with blankets and a pillow. There are extra toiletries in the bathroom you have in the hall.

Taking a breath, you grab the blanket from the foot of your bed as well as a pillow from your side before exiting the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

You walk down the hall and find him near the bookshelf you have stacked with CDs, records, and cassettes. ‘Acquainted’ by The Weeknd is playing at a low volume on the stereo on the table beside it. He hears you walk in and turns to face you, a chuckle leaving his lips once he takes in the sight of the items in your hands.

“Are we having a sleepover?” He grins, watching you put them down on the couch.

“Well, I figured it was too late anyway. You can just stay here for the night—we have a bathroom with extra stuff in the hall, you can use any of the things there,” You say.

“Really? Do you guys have a lot of guests?”

“Not a lot, just, Choso has a lot of brothers and especially his youngest stays over sometimes, forgets things,” you shrug.

“Ah, I see,” he nods, then gestures to your music collection. “You have really good taste.”

You snort. “Thanks. Half of it’s Choso’s, but I guess we have pretty similar preferences.”

“Yeah? All the time?”

“Like, in general? Or with music?”

“In general.”

You shift on your feet. “Well, a lot, anyways.”

Suguru hums, folding his arms across his chest, seeming to consider something. “Why didn’t you dance tonight?”

You aren’t expecting the question, so when he asks, you sort of flounder for a second.

“Well,” you begin, “It’s not really Choso’s thing, and I don’t mind, so we just didn’t.”

“You don’t mind?” He asks, “But…you would have liked to?”

How can he see through you like that?

“Sort of…”

He clicks a button on the stereo, and the song starts over. He turns the volume up slightly next.

“You seemed like you were missing out tonight,” Suguru says as he walks towards you, crossing the room quickly. “It was a shame Choso wasn’t dancing with you.”

He sidles up to your front, smiling at you warmly.

“Dance with me.”

You draw in a breath, the feelings you have for him that you’ve suppressed in order to take care of Choso coming back tenfold. Like this, you become aware of just how close you two are, in a room all alone together, Choso out cold in bed. The potential is maddening. Still…it’s not a good idea.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s just a dance,” shrugs Suguru, that damn smirk he makes good use of drawn up over his lips again. “I can tell you want to. Please? You’ve had to deal with a drunk creep and then a hammered boyfriend. Just have some fun with me before bed.”

Have some fun with me before bed. That’s going to be the new one-liner for your fantasies later, you’re absolutely sure of it.

You gaze at Suguru’s face, eyes sincere and kind. How can you refuse? He’s right. You want to dance with him.

You should have some fun—it’s innocent enough. Just a dance. It should be fine.

“Okay,” you nod, and he grins at you, taking your hand and leading you to the center of the living room. His hands find your waist, pulling you so close you have no choice but to rest your palms on his chest. You share the same air, now.

“I saw you getting jealous back there,” Suguru says softly, the two of you moving to the beat slowly.

“Jealous?”

“When I was dancing with the girl,” He replies, eyeing you mirthfully. “The truth is, I wanted to make you jealous.”

You swear your heart slams against your ribcage. Heat floods your system at the words, made worse when he pulls you against him, your fronts pressed together. You can feel him everywhere and it’s short-circuiting your brain.

“Well, you were successful.”

He chuckles lowly and you swear it vibrates in your own ribcage like thunder.

“I want you to know, you’re the only one I want.”

Your breath stutters on its way out. How can he continue to say things like that to you?

“Suguru…”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” He asks, “The potential between us?”

You force yourself to breathe, barely paying attention to your dancing now. His eyes are reaching into your soul. You thank your past self for deciding not to drink, because if you had, you’d have probably kissed him by now. Instead, you cling to your wits.

“I’m not going to hurt him. You know I love him, Suguru.”

“I know,” he agrees, “But I still want you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you say, feeling your resolve start to crumble. He’s right here. Touching you, breathing the same air—you could give in right now and have him on the couch. You could finally answer all of the questions you have about what he’s like, what you’d be like getting intimate with him…

He searches your eyes while you let your thoughts run wild. “Push me away if you don’t want this.”

Confused, you furrow your brows. “What?”

But he doesn’t give a verbal response. He just leans in, pressing his nose to yours. That’s when you realize that he’s moving to kiss you. Your breath hitches as his top lip brushes against yours, hot air fanning over your mouth—

You have a boyfriend, for fucks’ sake, you need to stop.

By the grace of your willpower, you turn around at the last second, facing your back to his front. His hands stay on your waist, lips finding your ear as he corrects his position.

“We both know you want me too.” It’s said under his breath, deeply, and your eyes flutter shut as your movements to the music become less rhythmic and more sensual. He's barely fazed by the way you had dodged him.

“Just dance with me,” you tell him in hopes of distracting him, covering his hands with your own. He leans his head against yours, sighing beside you.

“I think I‘ll show you what she was talking about.”

You’re perplexed for a second before he presses himself flush into you, the outline of his member bluntly felt against your body. You shudder—she was right. He does feel big. That time in his kitchen wasn’t an exaggeration after all.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath, and he slides his hands from your waist to your hips, then back up. The touch automates a response from your own body. You grind back on him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you feel even more of him. He responds by squeezing your waist, stamping a peck to your ear. He feels firmer; his body is reacting to yours and the notion makes you dizzy.

You shiver, leaning away as he plants more chaste kisses along the line of your jaw, giving him more room.

Maybe it’s the late hour making your judgment waver, but lust starts possessing you like an eager demon, and when he gently guides you to turn back around, his lips ghosting over yours—

"I love you so much." Choso's voice echoes in your mind suddenly, like a flare in the dark.

Abruptly, you pull away, cutting the passionate exchange short and putting distance between the two of you. It’s like your head suddenly reattaches to your body.

You feel your heart breaking—how could you do this?

Choso had just been gushing about you earlier, proclaiming his love for you and wanting kids with tears streaking down his face, and here you are, so close to giving in to some sort of fucked up lust for his bandmate.

Suguru sees the anguish on your face and speaks up.

“It was me. I’m sorry. I pushed and got carried away,” he sucks in a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I…I know I’m probably not welcome here anymo—”

“I’m going to bed,” you choose to say, looking away. “Just stay the night. Choso…can take you back tomorrow.”

The room is silent for a moment save for the music, deathly still, tension so thick one could cut through it.

Suguru says your name, and you meet his eyes, so many mixed emotions swirling inside of you. Regret, desire, sadness, longing, disappointment in yourself—it’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Forgive me, please.”

You don’t even know what to say. You can’t believe you almost did that.

“I didn’t mean to make things—”

“Well, what did you mean to do?” You lash out, surprising even yourself. You’re upset, mostly with your own actions, but rationality is no longer a factor here. “I told you I wouldn’t cheat, and you keep pushing.”

He frowns. “I know. It’s my fault—I’m sorry.”

Neither of you move, and it feels like a sort of stand-off. He eyes you for a moment before sighing, brushing his hair back.

“He deserves you. I don’t,” he tells you, pain in his gaze. “I won’t do anything like that again, I’m okay with just being friends with you. Can we?”

You do think he’s cool, and he’s kind to you, as well. He protected you at the concert tonight along with your boyfriend. He bore his soul to you in the car, and you feel like the two of you really would be great friends, if it weren’t for the mess of confusing feelings you’ve tangled each other in.

You know having him around will always cause problems. You’re always going to want him, and he’s always going to want you. At some point you both will cross even more lines you shouldn’t, and your relationship as well as the band will get caught in the crossfire. You can’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you sigh heavily, “But we shouldn’t see each other again. You know it’s not a good idea.”

His face falls even further, and it shatters the already fragmented pieces of your heart. “But, I don’t want to lose you.”

It stings. But you need to drive the point home. You can’t lose Choso—he’s your boyfriend, not Suguru.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.”

You know that it lands exactly where it needs to—you’ve never seen a man break before, but the way he just crumbles before you in his eyes makes you feel even worse than you already do.

“I’m sorry. Just…sorry.”

With that, you turn and walk up your hallway, entering the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. You couldn’t bear to stay in that room with the aftermath of your mistakes any longer. The door shuts behind you and you lock it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Choso is still completely comatose, breathing heavily, and you walk over to him and soothe hair from his face. The tears finally spill down your cheeks, a million apologies fused into each one of them. You want the ground to just swallow you up so that Choso doesn’t have to be with someone so unfaithful and untrustworthy. You let Suguru touch you, and you almost kissed him twice. Choso would never do that to you with someone else, how could you do it to him?

You don’t know where things will go from here. Will you tell him? Will you keep it a secret? Lying to him forever can’t be good—but can you be brave enough to tell him the truth? Could you bear it if he leaves?

There’s so many thoughts in your head, so much self-deprecation you feel sick.

“I love you, Chos’,” you murmur, placing a kiss on his brow. His lips curl up in a gentle smile, and it makes you feel all sorts of wrong. Even in sleep, he loves you completely. You abused that tonight, and there’s no mitigating that.

Without a doubt, you know that you’re in for a very long, sleepless night.

---

A/N: things are awkward between you now...what will happen next? Thanks for all the support, I'm so happy you're enjoying this! I'm going to be cross-posting to AO3 soon so look out for that!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

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[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 16 omggg thank you guys for all your support, let me know what you guys think and if you think Leni is being annoying LMAO I love the interaction tho from you guys :) LINK to the previous part. Leni organises her sudden trip home in which Christian and Daniel have some complaints about. There seems to be no escaping Max however, after a shared bottle or two of champagne, surprise, surprise, all Leni’s plans may have just gone out the window…

“You’re going home? What to Monaco or England?” My dad frowned, as soon as I walked into the room. “England, yeah.” I nodded, taking my laptop off the side.

“When? When was this planned?” The crease in his brown only furrowed further. “Last night.” I chewed on the lolly stick that had been in my mouth for far too long. “Well are you coming to Vegas? With Geri?”

“Mm, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “What’s that?” A voice questioned. “Did I just hear you’re not coming to Vegas?” Daniel walked up from behind me, “I dunno, Daniel.” I laughed.

“Nah you can’t miss that.” My dad then spoke as I scrunched my nose. “Yeah but… I might be busy.” I pathetically lied.

“Yeah with gambling in Vegas.” Daniel commented as I smiled slightly. “Oh I don’t know Leni, if you do want to go home that bad then Max is flying to Monaco tonight, at least then you’re pretty much home. Why don’t you stay in Monaco?” No because Max is there who is the exact person I was supposed to be avoiding?

“Eh, I wanna go home.” I shrugged as both Daniel and my dad shared a funny expression. “Weird. But okay.” Daniel commented. “Only for a little while.” I felt my face heating up from their slight concern. “Well I’ll ask Max if you can go with him, I don’t want you travelling around the world by yourself-” fuck off-

“No, you don’t have to do that.” I shrugged as my dad pulled another funny expression. “Like, what if the jets already full.”

“It’s literally just Max and like two others going home.” He justified and I cringed. There truly was no getting out of this- so when I was clambering the steps up the jet I was feeling extra uneasy. I wasn’t the best traveller, and now I was virtually alone with Max, exactly what I was avoiding. I had no self control- the minute he came up behind me I thought I’d faint from nerves.

“How come you’re leaving so soon?” He questioned, taking my hand luggage out of my hand as he walked behind me up the stairs. “Oh- thank you..” I turned back down to him, clumsily, sliding against the metal of the stairs, before clambering my way back up again. I pulled a face, cringing from embarrassment one he couldn’t see.

“Uh, I just wanted to go home for a bit, see my friends, you know.” I shrugged, greeting the flight attendants who handed a glass of champagne as soon as we stepped onto the jet. Whilst that was luxurious, I could imagine it was a stupid idea- for me at least. The glass would be empty within 5 minutes.

“Are you not coming to Vegas?” Max questioned, putting my phone up in the storage above our heads, followed by his. I perched on one of the seats and he took the row beside me. My dad meant it when there was only two other people on the jet- it seemed they were pretty keen on catching sleep as soon as they hit the seats.

“I dunno, I think so.”

“What?” He bluntly spoke, turning to face me. I gazed back over to him with a gentle smile. “I probably will, Max.”

“Just wanna go home for a while?”

“Yeah, exactly.” I nodded along as he offered me another smile. A gentle one, understanding. I felt guilty for feeling how I did- I was scared. I knew Max would never hurt me, not when he was this kind and soft spoken- but still. My eyes landed on my glass and I took a couple swigs, finishing the liquid when the doors of the jet shut.

“Are you nervous?” Max then asked just as I was scanning out of the window. The sun was beginning to set, truthfully it looked beautiful- but I was always freaked getting on a flight.

“Can you tell?” I smiled as the woman topped up my glass, telling me to drink it quick before they took off. Max looked at his own, swigging it down before accepting his second refill.

“Well there’s nothing to be scared of… not with this anyway.” He lifted up the glass and I mimicked, swigging the expensive, fizzy drink. I offered him a gentle smile, eyes trailing over him before attempting to ‘relax’ back in my seat.

The whole take off I was gripping at the seat, scrunching my eyes closed. Being on a plane a lot smaller than I was used to, it seemed I could hear everything in the planes engines. It took me a couple moments to actually glance out the window, stunned at how far up we’d travelled so quick.

“You okay?” Max laughed from besides me, entertained by my freak out. He was perched on the edge of his seat, looking up from his phone, half concerned, half amused. “I think I need another drink…” I dramatically spoke, the Dutchman laughed again. “So it’s going to be that type of a flight?”

“It’s always that type of a flight for me.” My eyes squinted slightly as his smile grew. “Mind if I drink with you?”

“No, not at all.” I giggled. “We can celebrate your 17th win!” I shrugged, the bubbled already going to my head. The woman came back around, this time leaving us with the bottle of champagne. It reminded me of that night on the beach that Mad and I first sat and talked properly together. It was the night I allowed my crush to grow out of control. This time we sat together on two seats of his jet, it was the middle of the night and there was no reason to be so excitable. Max and I giggled, the over head light sending an orange glow over us as the two men in front of us attempted to sleep. “Sh.” I nudged him, the liquid had spilt down his top, he’d physically spat it out, choking from laughter when his mouth was too full from the liquid. (I may or may not have squeezed his cheeks together).

Max glanced towards the man who pressed his travelling pillow harder over his ear before spluttering out another laugh in my direction. I went to roll my eyes, before I could Max had thrown his remains of champagne over my chest and vest top. My eyes almost bulged out my head and I had to slap my hand over my mouth to avoid the screech of laughter that was about to leave my mouth.

“Max!” I gasped, attempting to stay quiet. This is when we got silly. I took my fuller glass and went to swill him, he pushed my hand away and instead it fell down the side of the seat, down his bare leg. He ‘pfffted’ out a laugh, pushing the liquid back towards me and causing it to spill again all down my front.

I gasped, glancing down myself before looking up to him again. He was giggling, overwhelmingly amused. At least it was his plane we were semi destroying. “Prick!” I whispered, glancing down myself. Thankfully I had my glass of water sitting on my tray, so I reached out, taking it and swilling him so quickly he could barely react.

“Le-” he went to cry out but gave up. This is when I burst out laughing much to the other two men’s dismay. Max touched my arm, unable to hold back his laughter, falling forwards half onto me in uncontrolled fits of giggles.

“We’re really annoying them now.” I whispered poking my head over the back of the chairs ahead of us. The men were frowning and covering their ears in annoyance. I switched the light off ahead of me and Max held his hand over his mouth. “Sh.” I playfully pushed at his knee, the alcohol giving me the buzz I needed to ignore all my issues.

“My clothes are so sticky.” I cringed, pulling at the wet material away from my boobs, my nipples and piercings were poking through and Max thought it was hilarious to turn the overhead cooler on. “No.” I stated firmly, switching it off and taking another swig of the champagne.

“Take them off.” Max shrugged as I met his gaze. “I’m sure they love it.” I teasingly nodded towards the two men. Max’s eyes glanced up from my boobs before laughing at my comment. “I’m sure you would too.” I perched on the edge of my chair.

“You know I would.” He smirked, fiddling with the bottom of his wet shirt. I gulped, grateful he wasn’t looking at me as I did so and glanced down over his face. Why did he have to be so attractive? It would be easier if he wasn’t.

“Max.” My voice fell to an amused laughter, feeling the sticky spray of champagne down my seat when I shuffled back. “Only telling the truth.” He shrugged as I smiled gently, blinking away from his face. His hand smoothed over the bare of my thigh and my stomach tingled and turned at the softness of his skin on mine.

“It would be comfier with it all off.” I half laughed, Max smiled and I watched the way his eyes fell to my lips. “Maybe I could if we were alone.” I don’t know what prompted me to say it, but Max was reaching out for my face, pulling my cheek in to kiss me with such desperation I could barely comprehend.

He struggled, pushing up the arm rest as he knelt on the plush chair, pushing me down gently against the wall of the plane. He was coming on strong- not forceful or weird, I liked it, the taste of alcohol on his lips was inviting and his tongue was warm across mine, hands smoothing over every inch of my body.

I pulled at his shirt, tugging him closer, he stumbled between my legs pressing himself up on the arm rest behind me as we made out like nobody else was on the plane. I could feel his heavy breath against my face, he’d pant every now and then and I was completely lost in the moment, slipping my hands under his shirt, until he swiped his hand, cupping over my clothed pussy. No, no. This is exactly what I wasn’t going to do. I broke the kiss, panting and meeting his eye in the dark surroundings, recognising properly where we were. “We can’t.” I whispered. Max glanced around sheepishly and pushed himself up. “Fuck. Should I just kick them off?” He joked and my eyes flickered to the bathroom.

No, Leni, no. Absolutely not.

“Wha- Leni.” Max began, turning to look back at the vacant bathroom. “Fuck, I don’t even care.” Max extended his hand and I glanced between it and the bathroom. Would one last time really hurt? Especially if we were wasted and it was in an aeroplane bathroom- surely that couldn’t count.

I took Max’s hand and followed him into the tiny bathroom, the tension hot and heavy between us, sneaking off in a hurried hush…

___________________________________________

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389 @eviethetheatrefreak @rossylightwood

[sarahrogersevans]

What Are Best Friends For? - Best Friend!Bucky Barnes xreader fan fic

Summary: Y/N needed to go grocery shopping but isn’t feeling that well and isn’t up for cooking so her best friend Bucky surprises her with food & a movie

Warnings: mentions of feeling a bit sick, comfort fluff, soft Bucky, angsty, let me know if I miss anything

~Y/N’s POV~

I hate having those days where you don’t feel like getting out of bed or doing much of anything it’s not like me but I woke up feeling really down and I forgot I didn’t really have much food in the house. “Oh crap.. I really don’t wanna have to go to the store.” I grabbed my phone and texted my best friend Bucky saying “hey Buck.. you busy today?”

I waited a bit to see if he would respond while I played a game on my phone to keep me occupied. A few minutes later I saw the notification that he messaged back so I clicked on it and Bucky wrote, “Hey doll! You doing ok? And of course! Watcha need?” I felt guilty about asking him to bring me some food but I doubt he’d mind and hopefully maybe he’d come over and stay for a bit too. I responded back to him and said “hey bestie.. & idk.. feeling down and I’m not feeling all that great and I don’t really have anything to eat and I don’t wanna go out to the store right now.. would you mind and go get me some ramen soup and juice for me please and stay for a bit after?” I pushed send nervously waiting to see what he would say.

I panicked after a minute and texted again saying “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t ask you to go to the store for me, I’ll go don’t worry about it.” I put my phone down again and felt a bit nauseous and ended up falling back asleep before checking if he responded again.

~Bucky’s POV~

I hate when my best friend is struggling I just wanted to run over to her place and hug her so hard. I ran to the store to get all of her favorite foods plus her favorite juice and then I drove over to her place and I was about to knock but then I remembered I had an extra key she had given me last month and unlocked the door and went inside and made a few trips from the car and got everything out to start cooking.

A few minutes later I hear foot steps behind me and I heard a voice say “Bucky? How did you get in here?” I turned around and saw Y/N standing there and I smiled at her and went over to hug her and showed her the key and I said “hey doll you doing ok? and I used the key you gave me last month, I have a surprise for ya doll.” She came over to hug me and said “hey you, and yea I’m alright I guess and what’s the surprise?” I hugged her back for a minute and went over by the grocery bags and I said “I brought you all of your favorites Y/N, thought I’d make us some ramen soup and we’d watch a movie if you’re up for it?” Y/N cried while hugging me and said “aw Buck, you didn’t have to do this, I feel guilty now.” I shook my head and said “hey no don’t feel bad Y/N, I’m happy to help you. It gives me an excuse to come be with my best friend, go sit and relax hun it’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

I cooked us some soup and put together two bowls with some crackers and drinks and I brought everything over to the table by the couch and Y/N seemed like she was spacing out a bit but then looked at the table and said “wow Buck! This all looks great, what movie did you wanna watch tonight?” I handed her the remote and smiled at her and I said “you pick Y/N I wanna take care of you tonight, I would love to watch whatever you’d like.” Y/N went to go pick a movie and handed me a dvd and she shyly said “is star wars a new hope ok Bucky?” I smiled at her and said “of course darling! Pop it in, better come have your soup while it’s still hot, I even brought you a cup of your favorite juice.” She got excited and said “cranberry Cherry?!” I nodded to her and said “you bet doll, how could I forget?”

Y/N put in the movie disc and sat down grabbing her cup and sipped some of the juice and said “yum, I love cran cherry! Thank you Buck.” She got the movie started and I noticed how far from me she was sitting from me and I patted the spot by me and said “hey, come sit closer to me, I promise I don’t bite doll.” She moved closer and we ate our soup and Y/N looked sleepy a half hour into the movie and I looked over at her and said “you can rest your head on my chest if you want to Y/N.” She looked at me and said “you sure?.. wouldn’t that be awkward?” I shook my head and said “no I don’t think so, we’re best friends it’s not weird come on, we can cuddle.” She scooted closer and I helped her get comfortable and she looked up at me saying “thank you for everything you did today Bucky, you’re an amazing best friend.” I blushed and said “hey, what are best friends for Y/N, want me to stay tonight?” She hugged me and nodded saying “yes please, I’d like it if you stayed, I don’t wanna be alone.” I put my arm around her and said “I’m not going anywhere doll I promise.” We went back to watching the movie and I noticed later on that she fell asleep on me but I didn’t mind I liked that my best friend felt safe to fall asleep on me plus it helped knowing she wasn’t alone anymore.

Hey lovelies!!! I thought the idea for this fic was really cute 😊♥️ I hope you all like it xx

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[cowboylament]

“With 50 years behind us…” Lucien said, his eyes looking at my lips. I let mine look at his for the first time in many years. That first night I’d seen him I noticed them. He didn’t even glance, didn’t even look in my direction or notice me until he found me with Eris. I’d felt so young, so childish, wanting to be under his gaze. Now I was no different, or entirely different. I wanted to know what they felt like, if they too were warm. 

“And what about real life?” I asked.

“What about it?”

“When things return to normal, as they will, you'll feel differently.”

“And?”

“And I will be left to want what I have never wanted before.”

Lucien smiled, there was a flicker of amusement but his brows mirrored the confusion mine had only just displayed. I knew that our real life was too close, always waiting to take us back to the places where we existed, where these things shared did not reign or govern anything.

or

Y/N doesn't know what Lucien meant Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Bonus, Ao3

I slept for the first three days. One by one my court, save Amren, kept me company in my room. Cassian joined me for dinner and Rhys was always there for breakfast. Morr laid in bed with me late into the afternoon gossiping about one thing or another. Azriel too, who had arrived late into the evening, returned over and over I think with a guilty conscience for not having been there from the start. 

The only other absent party was Lucien. 

I waited for him that first day. Even with the visits of others, their chatter, my mind was half in the silence of elsewhere. The house remained quiet, absent of life. There was no extra noise, no recurring sounds. He’d said we’d go back and we had. The future would look the same but in Velaris. 

On the fourth day, sleep did not appeal any longer, though sitting idle wasn’t much better. I couldn’t keep my attention on any book for longer than half a page, so I took long stretches by staring out the window. The fall breeze had begun to sweep through rattling the glass. I could see the chill like it were as real as the sun, the houses, like the air temperature took a realized shape on the horizon. 

“I brought this for you.” 

Morr had stopped knocking, not that I had much to hide. In her hands was a heaping plate of food, twin to her own. 

The talking points had not changed, we recycled the same topics even as they grew stale. Despite what she’d wanted to know the first night back she had not again brought up Lucien and when she did it was always in passing. Something about him staying in his room or the glares that had passed between him and Rhysand while I was being stitched up. She lingered over no topic, looked without longing to understand the events that had led to our arrival at the townhouse. 

“I saw Lucien on my way up.”

The scrape and clink of our silverware was the only noise. A false casualness, a feigned indifference.

“He emerged from his room then.”

“He joins us for meals now, sometimes I see him go into the library.”

When the days got long and boring, and night swept in before I could grow tired with it, I imagined his reason for not coming upstairs was because he’d left. I couldn’t imagine him anywhere in Velaris particularly, which frightened me. I could only imagine him existing in places we’d already been. In the Day Court library, in Adriata. If he left this city there was no coming back. I could do nothing for him.

 I don’t know if this reality was worse, but with similar ease in wounding him, he could bother me just the same as ever. We’d each saved the other's life so we were even. He owed me no visits, I needed no explanation. The fact that he could bother me just by not being here led me to believe it was better he not come at all. 

“Well,” I said, discarding my plate to my nightstand. Its clatter was the loudest noise to hit the house in the last few days. Everyone had taken to the same quietness as the wraiths. “He can be social when he wants to be.”

Morr pushed some food around. She wanted to know still, I made no mistake in that. Whether she’d been wanting to be polite or was waiting for me to broach the topic again was unclear. Even now, however, she said nothing. She moved to topics of dinner at the house of wind.

“He said he wants to talk to you first though.”

“About?”

“Well, I could venture a guess,” Morr said, relaxing into the usual conversations again. She threw herself into the pillows on the other side of my bed and buried herself into them. “I imagine he wants to get an idea of how you’re feeling about it all now that some time has passed.”

“He thinks I’d change my mind? I woke up and wanted Lucien dead?”

She sighed, “no, I think he just knows that night was intense and emotions were high.”

He acted this way with no one else, asking more than once if they meant it, what they wanted, or what they’d said. For all its well intentions I wondered if he found me so fickle, weak. It didn’t matter that words were the only thing I had, the thing I felt good at. It was distinctly brother, all other second-guessing came in the form of strategy, came from a High Lord. For as rare as it occurred, it evoked also the rare moment of doubt, questions if I weren’t in part given this job for the sake of having one.

“We can’t go back,” I said. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know but we can’t.”

Morr leaned up onto her elbow and retreated into the routine casualty we’d spent most of our lives sharing secrets with like there was nothing new about this. “If you wanted to take it back you could.”

“It's not that I wish to take it back, it's just different.”

“I found him here you know, that morning after.”

I had assumed he’d left on his own. After staying up all night he’d become too tired to sit any longer or he’d fallen asleep and it began to hurt his neck. I assumed he wandered downstairs and never came back. If he’d said anything, of why we were there, Morr didn’t reveal it and she’d get no words from me either. Silence passed. I checked my bandages, they were in place as I knew they were. I pressed down my collar, brushed my hair back, winced with the effort. I returned her stare only after I felt sufficient time had passed. 

“All these years you said he didn’t care about you. What is this I’m seeing now?” She asked.

“Emotions were high you said as much. He certainly hasn’t been particularly warm since.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How do you feel?” The words at last burst from her, she couldn’t wait any longer. 

I threw my hands up with an exasperated sigh. There was no way to say it, I feel like I went to one world and woke up back in my own. And it all looks the same, but nothing is. I have to operate now, with the feelings of this one and the knowledge of the other and they can’t intertwine. 

Morr let out an equally frustrated laugh. Her’s was less malicious, but I felt the annoyance nonetheless. She just wanted to know, as she knew everything else before this. She was used to having my feelings and thoughts available to her. The males of ages ago at the time of their occurrence held little weight. It meant nothing to talk of them, their ends were understood and guaranteed. We’d spend hours in this very room, this very bed, going over every little detail. Now she wanted words for something that words did not exist for. 

“You told me about everyone else.” She stood from the bed and made to grab her plate. When she looked back at me, saw the look on my face, my stare, all annoyance had vanished. I half hoped Lucien was suffering my own brooding, though I had not felt much of his. She gave a half smile before rolling her eyes.“He’s different then.”

“I’m different.”

***

The following morning Rhysand brought with him no breakfast. I stretched at the knock he gave my door and the pain, though it was sitting beneath the skin, did not linger as long as it had before. When I called him in he remained in the hall.

“You’ve been given leave to haunt the rest of the house and not just your room.”

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” I threw the blankets off and with the most careful of movements rose out of bed. It took me less time than it had these past few days, but it was clear the wound still caused issues. Rhys walked over to put his arm out for assistance after I was up.

“Please, try to reel it in, your bedside manner is suffocating.”

“If you want to be treated like a baby you should have asked me to send Cassian.”

Rhys on our walk downstairs told of all the inhabitants of the townhouse. Lucien’s name remained absent in the reports of the latest comings and goings. As we made it down the stairs I half expected, even with the house empty, some sound would have returned to the world. That because I could leave my room the city outside the walls would slip in, that life reverted back to its ways with us. No, the world remained eerily quiet. 

In further disarray, my brother turned us left into the office rather than toward the dining room. I could smell the food beyond the threshold. When I saw the plates waiting, the tea, I stopped. Our arms slipped out from each other and he turned to see the issue.

“It's just breakfast,” he said when he saw the weariness of my posture.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, that's too bad. I have your favorites.”

We were both lying. It was not just breakfast and I was certainly hungry, he knew that and I knew that. The sound of my hunger could likely have been heard the moment he took that first step upstairs. Just as the sight of his office alone tipped me off on what this was really about. I wasn’t sure I could give him what he wanted. He, like Morr, was impossibly settled in some old way of thinking, of acting, that no longer was of any use to me here. He hesitated though, throwing his hands in his pocket, looking around the room with all the nonchalance of someone guilty.

“Morr said you want to know how I’m feeling about all this.”

“I might, but it's possible that I might also want to enjoy some quality time with my sister you know.”

“It's possible though unlikely.”

His eyes narrowed at me and though they remained playful, I sensed that a High Lord lay beyond them. Our game was coming to a close and an order was waiting.

“Things are a little time-sensitive right now, but we can talk about whatever you can talk about and then if we need to come back to it we’ll come back to it.”

When my brother had said we’d talk later it occurred to me that while I had made it out of the woods, Lucien had not. Part of him was still dangling there, or in between, running. He was safe but only within the confines of specific formulas. What terrible things happened to those who broke bargains. I’d avoided death of a terrible kind, what would be made of me if I didn’t uphold my end? It made my palms sweat, how easily this membrane could break, and how fast all that flooded it would end what had barely begun. 

“Ever the negotiator.”

Rhys heaved a sigh of relief. I knew he understood that I wanted to, to tell them of what was going on, but he couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t. Nevertheless, an easygoing smile returned to his face, but I didn’t take it for mockery. He said, “part of the job.”

We ate breakfast from the two armchairs. It was just the same as we had the mornings before, where what lacked in formality allowed the relaxation of family and the sharing of private jokes. The normalcy of it, of knowing what to say and how to make him smile, was of some comfort. When I leaned back against my seat, full, all that had once been terrifying in its abstract had moved into sharper clarity.

“Alright. Let's get it over with,” I said.

“We can begin wherever you see fit.”

I half expected some resistance, some confrontation, but when he said that it was obvious he wouldn’t be that way. It was my choice, and it had always been my choice. Even when he’d found out I was mated he’d lectured on my safety, but in the end, there had been some understanding that whatever I wished would be allowed. Things now were more complex but it was a good feeling, and an open one, the confidence of knowing someone was ready to listen to you rather than thinking I’d argue with a wall. 

“Everything I said still stands. I haven’t changed my mind or rethought it, and it's not because I was injured that I said it. This isn’t his fault, what they did.”

I didn’t have to say who. To name Lucien implied a level of tolerance I did not have. The bargain had been made and the mating bond existed and something in me wound tightly with the strings of fate had pulled me this way.

“How do  you visualize him here, in Velaris?”

“I don’t, I can’t, but I don’t think that means he won’t do well. He’s unfortunately good at what he does.” I relaxed into that statement just a bit, letting my eyes close on the images of us in the very same rooms over the years. People spoke warmly of him, even to me.

Rhys raised a brow, “you’d work with him?”

“It's not as if we haven’t already. If anything I’d see less of him. I’d speak to whoever they send from Autumn now. Somewhat ideal.”

“But you’d still see him, in this city. And if I made him part of the court, would the close proximity make you...”

“Explosive?” I offered.

“Rash.”

If we could avoid each other in a single house, moving through rooms seamlessly, how little we’d see each other when we’d have free reign of all the rest. Who was to say though, how we’d be now. That remained the most important factor of all, and it was entirely unknown. It doesn’t have to be this way forever. Though forever seemed bent out of shape, half submerged, hidden from view. My pursuit was aimless, not the least without having seen him again, seen how he’d be. Maybe it was this that was different, the level of our tempers and the deepness of the crease in our brow. Or maybe it was some other thing entirely, we knew something we had never known, of that impossible distance in death. He could indeed stray too far from me. 

“I don’t think it will be an issue,” was all I said.

Rhys huffed a laugh, but I watched his thoughts carry him away. I pulled at a loose thread of my pants, letting the fabric run in two directions, the thin line curving around the thigh. 

“I can’t tell you much else.” I began, “not even because you’re my brother I just don’t know what to say. It cannot be undone, whatever happened out there. But I can’t have the pressure also of having to prove to you something you don’t really desire to believe.”

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t trust him.”

Rhys winced, “well I don’t know his intentions.”

“That's why you had Azriel’s shadows in my room then, when he was there.” It was not like the shadow of death, what had shaken the chandelier. And despite the wind of the past few days, no draft had been strong enough to repeat it. It took me about two days of watching the window to work it out.

“I wanted to know if he was telling the truth.”

“And?” I didn’t think Lucien was lying but the certainty would be an added relief, to know what he thought. The mortification of their intrusion had already subsided after a few sleeps. It wasn’t worth the argument, I realized honestly that it only bolstered mine. He was not his family. Their watching had relieved a pressure, rather than adding to it for once. 

“Well if you’re going to fall for a few cheap lines..”

It didn’t matter to me that he was joking, a sharp pain spread across my chest like a shattering glass. Wherever Lucien was I’m sure he’d be feeling it. This might even have been the first thing he’d felt from me since we’d arrived. 

“Don’t be cruel.”

Rhys leaned forward as if he could backtrack, “I’m just saying. He’s from Autumn.”

“For a court that praises itself on making a new world, you’re awfully content to go with your old way of thinking when this new world shows up.” This struck him, truly, I could see it in the way he straightened, how his familiar posture turned more formal, considerate. “If you don’t intend to change then I have intentions too and I won’t waste my time. I’m too tired.”

The wind let out two howls, then another, before he released something from him that had been lingering, a tension or a breath.

“You trust him?”

“Yes.”

“And you like him?” 

I put a hand out, “let's not get ahead of ourselves.” 

He and I laughed, really laughed then for the first time in days. Not even because it was particularly funny, but for what it released. I think what had gone from him was that momentous weight of something so small as almost, almost losing the last family you have left. Almost not making it back, a minute too late, a mile too far, far too many almosts had been in place. But everything had happened as it did and I was here and at least to him, I was more or less the same. 

“I was worried your mate’s habits were rubbing off on you. You’ve become so serious.”

“I was just bored. How many times can I listen to you or Cassian talk about the time you had to walk up all 10,000 steps to the house of wind? At least my mate offers me some different entertainment.”

“So I heard,” Rhys smiled.

“Cassian’s a loudmouth.” 

“Oh no, you outed yourself that night. It's a quiet house and if I hadn’t nearly killed Lucien for the laugh he got when he heard I might have joined in when you’d admitted it. I’m not surprised though, you always liked to choose the males I hated.”

I rolled my eyes, “You’re insufferable and you’d probably like Lucien given that his jokes are always at my expense.”

“Well if he joins this court he’ll fit right in.” I met his stare, the amusement there and I knew he was making an offer to me as my brother first. “I’ll claim your mate.”

I wanted to feel better than I did, wanted to feel I’d done something, but nothing came of those words. It wouldn’t be as easy as sending a letter, Beron would take pleasure in the torment of it all, as he always did, as he always does. He’d want something.

“Thank you.”

“I thought you’d be happy,” he said.

“So did I.” 

Nothing had really been resolved. I still knew nothing. I had no frame of reference for the future or even the previous understanding of the deal we’d made of the bond with its rules and obligations. Everything was hinging on something else, and the thought that everyone in this court would be watching, wouldn’t even be able to help themselves by meddling in it, made my stomach hurt.

I closed my eyes, a lethargy overtaking me. “It doesn’t help much, having five people watch you mortify yourself.”

I could feel his amusement without looking. He didn’t get it though. I always knew what was going to happen, the stakes were low. No matter how I said it or showed it, that this was different, they didn’t get it. Lucien could be given refuge, could hear of our claiming, and decide to go anyway. The bond which had suddenly added so much weight to our world was still worth almost nothing. And they’d watch it happen, all the while meddling and probably making me look even less capable of having any power in this life at all.

“I’ll leave your business to you to work out.”

I opened my eyes just a bit, to reveal the slightest skepticism. 

He relented, “I can’t say what everyone else has planned.”

I groaned, sitting up straighter but found all the same I could laugh. I raised my glass to him, “Well let's at least hope we all find some entertainment.”

He raised his glass back and we sipped. I had no doubt it would be, this court always managed it. They probably already had a bet between them all going on how long it would take Lucien to move out. 

“Now.” Rhys sighed. “I need you to show me what happened that night.”

Presenting the memory to my brother didn’t bother me half as much as I thought it would, and it seemed twice as fast. Regardless he said nothing when he pulled himself from my mind, but he was rigid, eyes glazed over with thought. I asked him to walk me to the garden if only to rid him of the ailment. Just as soon as we walked into the hall, however, Lucien appeared on the other side. Rhysand took no small amusement in making himself scarce. He vanished completely behind his office door with some false excuse, the bastard. 

Lucien looked the same. I don’t know what I thought he’d look like, but I expected something palpable for me to hold onto. Something that would signal to me that he was telling the truth, that it didn’t have to be this way forever. In a way, what I really wanted, was for this to be easy, was for the change to arrive fully formed and realized, but that was rarely ever the case. 

“Surprised you’re still here,” I said crossing my arms. 

“Not as if I can leave.” He said taking a similar defensive stance. Even through the sweater he was wearing, I felt the presence of his skin, the warmth of his body. There were many things I couldn’t forget even as we appeared back in our usual place. 

“You’ve been busy then?” I asked, “Haven’t had the time to walk yourself upstairs to my room again?”

He was mad, “I hadn’t realized you wanted to see me.” 

“I assumed you’d be curious as to how I was doing.”

“You assumed wrong.”

A door shut somewhere in the house, but besides that the world was motionless. I couldn’t even see his breath, his blinks, and if I were doing so I didn’t notice or feel it. It was immovable, the circumstances, like a locked jaw, grinding teeth, we could only press further into ourselves or stay where we were.

Lucien cleared his throat, “big emotions this morning.”

My fists clenched on their own accord, “it hasn’t been easy.” 

Each word seemed abrasive compared to the silence around us. In contrast, however, a tautness softened in me where Lucien’s feelings had been. He cared, cared for what I’d felt. My body returned the sentiment in answer. I dropped my hands and softened back. For all this, however, he remained tall, as firm-faced as I was. What interior emotions, these years, had been lost to our shields?

“You could have asked for me,” he offered.

“I’ve certainly had the time to work that out.��� 

His throat bobbed, something like exasperation with sorrow or maybe it was a guarded amusement because he knew that I could not ask him to come, the embarrassment of it. There was no winning. He’d laughed at me before, over any hint I’d been looking for him, but he found this self-preservation just as amusing. Even when he himself was just as guilty, he had offered nothing substantial that I myself did not give first. 

I felt it though, his hesitating, the strain of something, and he made to step forward.

“I don’t suppose Y/N has informed you of the news?” Rhys said appearing just when we might have grown not to need him. The silence of the hallway and all its tension had slipped beneath the door to his office and he must have taken that to mean we needed him. His arrival was enough for me to understand that though he’d offered me the privacy to deal with this on my own, he would still let it be known when he’d have done something differently. I don’t think he could move without at least two motives.

“No, she was so preoccupied with our warm hellos I suppose she didn’t think of it.”

I mirrored his dryness, “welcome to the Night Court.”

A surge of gratitude, relief, and grief, struck me square in the chest. I might have staggered backward, its intensity unannounced in every regard. He didn’t crumble even slightly at its weight, so I felt responsible not to give him away and remained where I stood. 

The relief made me relieved, the grief too I mourned. They were intertwined, and even if I wanted to I could never untangle them. Even if we were different, if we were mates who liked each other he had lost something I could never replace. We would both have to live with that. 

“Thank you, I know this isn’t an easy task. I appreciate the risk.”

Rhys shrugged, “you’ve risked more for less. It's time to see what we might make of this new life.”

My brother looked toward me and I reddened. Among the citizens of Velaris, we were known for our character, our real character. Beyond we were that terrible Night Court from the Hewn City. Lucien didn’t know of our dreams, of our aspirations, what we tried to do. To think that he might understand what was secretly spoken of, our hope for the new world, turned my stomach.

“I’m at your disposal,” Lucien said to Rhys though his eyes remained fixed on me.

“Good. Then you won’t mind taking my sister to the garden for fresh air and exercise.”

“Rhys,” I said but he was already walking away from us.

“Madja’s orders. After that, please, the both of you, try to settle in.” The doors to his study closed once more like he had work to do and I could practically hear him biting back laughter on the other side of the door. I’d have to ask what he thought it meant, letting me deal with my business. His only plans were probably to winnow to drinks with Amren and Morr. He had the time. When I turned back toward my mate he raised his brow.

I took a seat in one of the chairs sitting in the sun. I hissed, a tugging at my side sent a burning pain into my ribs. Lucien flinched forward but resisted. All I could do was laugh. When I showed him the way, for the first time in a long time, I noted he was uncomfortable. It amused me the way it might have before. I could tell, unlike Rhys, he wasn’t sure if he should offer me his arm or leave it and he seemed internally to be arguing with the two options. His eyes darted to my side, my elbow, and lifting his hand like a flinch he eventually let it settle between us untouched. If Lucien saw my pleasure or felt it he didn’t say.

“Can’t bear to be decent?” I said once he’d settled back from his intuitive desire. 

“I’ve never known you to want help with anything. Your ego would suffer.”

“How well you know me,” I said pressing my face up toward the sun. “Tell me what else have you picked up in your old age?” 

Lucien didn’t take the bait, “Rhys said you had to exercise.”

“Rhys is a busybody.”

“Well, he’ll soon be my High Lord.”

“And he’s already my brother,” I said, opening my eyes to meet his. We were once again at an impasse. A breeze hit the courtyard rustling the leaves and I felt it blow through my shirt with a slight chill. If it weren't for the sunlight I might have shivered. 

“Please,” Lucien said with great reluctance. Outside the city became him. It was clearer, not totally, but less obscure this idea of how to picture him in the city. I could see him moving along the Sydra, could even see him walking through the square. I tried to push him into places, the house of wind or Starfall, but those remained flimsy. For having seen him at so many parties, in so many dining rooms, those remained off-limits to me.

A spike of anxiety met me so I stood. 

We paced around the courtyard, lapping five times without another word. Neither of us looked at each other or even so much as accidentally brushed arms. When I began to lightly stretch, however, it became less simple. I tried to see the range of movement I had at first, twisting, reaching my hands, but it only took one over-estimation, one recoil, for Lucien at last to close the distance and grab my arm to steady me. 

He did not let up right away. It was no more a whisper of a touch, but he burned with embarrassment. I craned my neck, following the long expanse of his arm where heat radiated at his palm. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a remark which never came. The pain subsided, though it was not emotional pain, he seemed to feel it nonetheless. 

Just as soon as it dampened and I could breathe again Lucien said, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“What's it matter to you?”

He dropped me from his grip and stepped away. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Well aren’t you two getting cozy.” Cassian’s voice rang through the sunny space from his spying from the doorway. I moved too quick and winced again, but Lucien barely flinched—barely, but I saw. I corrected my posture but we’d already been caught, and regardless of guilt, how it looked left the Illyrian amused. 

“Not every male is as repellent to females as you,” I said. 

Cassian crossed the small distance and threw an arm around me, looking toward Lucien with a grin I knew well, the kind he liked to use before he demolished any sense of peace. 

“Has she told you she’s scared away every suitor in Velaris?”

I shrugged his arm off feigning my annoyance because something in me warmed that he was treating this situation as equally prosperous. A moment in which, by teasing me, I suspected he was attempting as he promised to welcome Lucien. He carved real space, smiled real smiles, in the direction of my mate. 

Lucien let his attention drift over to me just barely. “What don’t they like? Her stubborn attitude or her perpetual scowl?”

Admiration came down the bond. It shocked me, enough that I had no reply. Why it hadn’t occurred to me that he would do well here evaded me. I’d always thought if we’d been tolerable I’d have to leave this city, but now the other possibility seemed far more likely. He had the natural wit for it, to win them all over, even perhaps me. They didn’t need him in Autumn, didn’t want him. Here I just had to be sure they let him tease without shattering him.

“You know,” I said composing myself as Cassian bit back his laughter. “You should ask yourself why you let yourself believe that lie. Last I checked, this shirt doesn’t have holes for wings.” Cassian’s eyes drifted to my shoulder blades in confirmation. “Maybe I’m not as scary as you think. Or better, maybe you aren’t as scary as you think. You Rhys, and Azriel were all here when that male left without it.”

Cassian took it with good humor and a part of me thought, even anticipated, jealousy to dig itself out from my ribs. That's how it was supposed to be, primal and intrusive, annoying and vengeful, but not a ripple or a whisper moved within me. Instead, Lucien was smiling, more than he had been before. If I didn’t feel what he felt I might have mistaken the look for pride. 

Cassian switched the subject just as fast. “Lucien, I’ve learned you’ll be part of the Night Court now. Tell me, have you heard yet of a place called Rita’s?”

The following two days fell into routine. Lucien would find me after breakfast and we’d spend an hour in the garden, pacing and stretching. What he did after that remained a mystery. I didn’t ask and Lucien didn’t tell. Nor did he reveal his commitment or thought to the words we’d exchanged when we’d arrived. Instead, we became more like our old selves than ever, at each other's necks about everything.

“You got the okay this morning I hear.”

“Yes. Stitches come out next week.”

Lucien nodded then glanced toward my shirt. Yesterday the house was truly empty, and even then it was as if the whole structure was leaning in to listen, even the doors were at a slant.

“Back to your own clothes.”

“For a little. I like to visit the Illyrian village every so often.” He was less amused at that than when I’d joked the same with Cassian. A flicker of jealousy I hadn’t intended to unearth pulled between us, like it were meant to physically push us together. Had his words meant this, that our arrangement made those years ago would be what changed? My mouth curved up, turning away but letting him see me smile just enough to feel the intensity heighten within. At least I had some sense of control over him, this mating bond wasn’t utterly useless. I added, just to see, “If you wanted me to keep to myself you should have said so.”

“You think too highly of yourself. I’d take you to the Illyrians you love so much myself if it meant I could be rid of you.”

His door slammed with such force the whole house righted. It took all afternoon for the tightness in my chest to lessen. If he’d even show up today to take me to the garden I wasn’t sure. 

Azriel was the only one downstairs when I came to eat. He’d been busy after my conversation with Rhys, looking for information on Autumn Court. He didn’t report much to me, if anything. And he didn’t mention if his work led him to ask anything of Lucien. He was always good at that, breaking the illusion, ending the joke, that I was liked in consequence, that I was a byproduct of duty. Though he was a friend of Rhysands, he was my friend too and when we spoke he almost always picked our friendship first. 

“I can only assume everyone is handling our new guest with the utmost tact.”

“Cassian especially.”

“Has he told the story about the winter you spent at the cabin?”

“No, because he knows I have a story about him from the last summer solstice.”  

 “Care to share?” Azriel smiled 

“When the time is right.”

He laughed and stood from the table. I could see from the windows the wind pushing its way through the trees with equal mix of splendor and violence. Autumn was arriving swiftly over the mountains. It seemed almost a disservice, really, to keep Lucien from the city. This was my favorite season, long before I met him. A trick of the Cauldron, a premonition I couldn’t shake. It pained me to miss it now. Did he feel the same?

“Where’s your brother?”

“House of wind. He’s bringing something up for dinner tonight. Amren probably requested her usual.”

The Shadow Singer nodded and made his way to the door. I followed behind him to look for the wraiths who I kept finding spying on Lucien. They were quite taken with him apparently. When I felt the sting of jealousy I fought the urge to shield. He hadn’t so I wouldn’t. There was no prize now for caring the least. We had power together and over each other. What one could do the other was just as capable. 

Since last seeing him I’d scarcely even felt him down the bond. I half expected to discover he was shielding himself, but every so often curiosity or amusement sometimes even endearment would give way to fear in my chest. I didn’t want to intrude upon his adjustment, but I’d stop what it was I was doing when that happened and try to think of what he could be doing to cause such a thing. I’d try to hear him in the house. It pleased me to find so little despair, to think of him wanting to know this place more fully.

The two quiet females were talking amongst themselves in the kitchen. I informed them that the dinner we were going to be having was formal and asked if they’d help prepare. They agreed, before delivering a message with amused glances back and forth.

“Lucien said he’d meet you in the garden.” 

I would have stared longer but he felt me there, in the doorway. Not the least maybe, for the strain with which seeing him look out at Velaris from the roof had managed to put on me. The autumnal colors behind him, along the hills in peak, brightened his face. The scene was becoming of him in the late morning light, he looked handsome, more handsome than before. 

I wanted to go back. That’s what I hated, what hurt. I wanted to go back to the night we’d arrived when I was brave, when I said the things and did the things I’d never have done. 

Worst of all, I wanted it even after he turned, and delivered without care, “took you long enough.” 

I began to pace without him, ducking behind a row of bushes that had opened a few weeks ago. The blooms scattered mostly at my feet now I stepped through them. Lucien had taken the single order of Rhysand’s to be law, take me to the garden. So he would. 

He fell in step with me once I made to pass him. The wind had changed, no longer a relief across the skin it arrived with hints of chill and, if it went on long enough, left a shiver in its wake. I wasn’t dressed properly, my shirt billowing open I crossed my arms to try and retain whatever heat I had which wasn’t much.  

“Do you always write in your books?” 

He wasn’t hostile, not even a little, despite what he’d first said. That wasn’t surprising anymore, how quickly the air between two people changed, mostly I was surprised by the fact that he knew my handwriting well enough to ask after it.

“Yes.”

He hummed, but we weren’t far enough from ourselves for him to reveal why he wanted to know. Morr had said he’d spent time in the library, he must have happened upon one book with ink in its margins. 

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“Folktales of Velaris.”

The last time I’d read that I hadn’t yet met him, let alone been mated. I must have been just barely 30, young. It’s hard to imagine what could be permanently inked into that book, I’d known so little then, next to nothing. Another cool breeze helped soothe the heat blooming on my face. We returned to silence, walking the garden twice before Lucien found cause to break it again.

“You like to read?”

“Yes. As do you?”

“Yes.”

Stilted conversation for someone I knew was capable of finding the precise words to be entertaining and an annoyance. I hadn’t even had to ask if he liked reading, going to the library seemed confirmation enough. Why he was asking, what it offered him, wasn’t clear. 

“Not everything has ulterior motive.”

I must have turned too fast. The question of how he’d known what I was thinking, which had been forming in my mouth, was overpowered by the sharp inhale. The autumn air pushed it back down to a point of insignificance, to the place where it no longer mattered. The startle of the pain brought with it shadows forming around us. Magic, all mine. 

Deep in my side a wave of burning pressed forward until it overwhelmed the place just below the skin. I couldn’t release it, couldn’t let the flame out, or turn into the shade and hope the darkness would smother it.

I bent forward. When my hand met the pain, another was already there. Not my own, warmer, larger. It was pulling me in, forcing me up.

“Stand up.” Lucien said and though his body held the heat of autumn under the skin his voice was cold with a familiar demand. If the pain had been less intense I’d never have listened. The tone alone was enough to give cause for a fight, but I elongated my spine, half by the force with which he pulled me into him and half with trusted intention to do as he said. My frame curved into his easily, taking his shape, like wax to flame. 

“You have to stretch,” Lucien said his mouth tucked so close to my ear his words passed through my hair and slid over the skin. His hand that I’d rested atop moved leaving my own behind, moving up my side. He applied pressure at my ribs. No cotton between his fingers and me, just skin, just his hand under my shirt. With each place he touched the pain diminished in size like he was moving it back toward the point of impact. His voice was disconnected from him, it told me to take a deep breath and I don’t know if I listened. Not at least on purpose, when I felt the air pass into my lungs. The burning vanished. 

I kept breathing, pressing our chests closer together then pulling them back apart. The pain seemed to linger nearby, like the moment we let go and moved it would come back. I was sure it would, and my fingers dug themselves deeper into Lucien’s clothes. I hadn’t even opened my eyes, couldn’t allow my consciousness to drift to the entirety of our position, all my focus was taken and I didn’t want to know how it felt to be this close. I wanted really for him to drop me before I could.

“Good girl,” he said.

I shoved out of his arms. 

He was already laughing before I could move away. The mixture of my embarrassment and his satisfaction doubled when he’d seen the blush that had formed on my face. He leaned against the railing, smiling smugly. 

All I managed to get out was, “pig.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever done as I said, thought it warranted a little praise,” He mused on the moments of the past, squinting his eyes like the memories we shared would appear before him and confirm his suspicions. “And I had a feeling you weren’t ever going to let go without encouragement.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I did.”

I wasn’t used to this version of him, this idea. This was not our game, our routine. He’d called me a thousand things and good had never accompanied any of them. He’d shattered everything, all that normalcy we’d found in coming up here, in being our worst selves. 

“So this is your famous charm. I’m unimpressed.” I said finally.

He laughed, his usual arrogant laugh and I wanted to latch to it. If I could I’d have thrown it over the moment like a sheet. “Lucky for me I’ve never desired your good opinion.” Yes, back to the familiar. He would not make desire from our old lives, I wouldn’t let him. He added, “from what I remember you’ve bestowed it rather foolishly in the past.”

I scoffed, “And you’re any better? How's Tamlin?”

His gaze was more piercing than it used to be. I shifted under it, squirming, with the sensation that he understood me even better now than he used to, and even before he was impressive. There was rarely ever a time when he didn’t know which male I would go after at an engagement, what kind of mood I was in, and why.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, his voice taking on that mean taunting tone he had when he wanted to get a rise at me, when he knew he’d held the right words in his mind. “How long did it take for you to break our deal? I can’t be too bad a claim if you saw fit to tell everyone we were mates.”

“25 years and I was drunk.”

He hummed, nodding along. He was enjoying himself. The circumstances didn’t matter and they never did. I could be crying and he’d still laugh, in fact, once in Winter Court he had. His gaze dipped down and then up once, the joy he’d gotten seemed to lessen with my admission. 

“Ilyrians are known to stomach unpleasantness, it's good you’ve found them.” He said pushing off the wall and standing just before me. Indifference settled into displeasure readily on him. I preferred this to everything, with such moods I could wound him like nothing. He thought he was shielding himself but I could read him just as easily if he was telling me his every thought down the bond.

“Is that all that matters to you Autumn males? That your partner is pleasant to look at?”

“I never said you weren’t pleasant to look at.”

Lucien said it like it were nothing. He even smiled like the displeasure never happened. He watched his words land and even I could admit that he had played the hand between us well. For him to admit something like that, then, now. I was envious. He’d gotten the upper hand and he’d never relinquished it, even when I thought we’d leveled out. He’d won and he knew, taking for himself one single prize, letting his eyes fall to my lips. 

I went to speak, but if there hadn’t been words before there was little chance of them appearing now. While he had never called me good, he’d also never given any suggestion that I was attractive. He avoided my appearance altogether with clear and cutting attacks.  I was always wretched, lousy, irritating, unskilled, or some other pinpointed insult that he had, for 50 years, wielded against me. Never though, ever, had he alluded to my appearance. 

“Your personality however could use some work,” He finished. 

Words returned and stumbled out of my mouth, but even with the force of snapping between us they didn’t have the desired effect. “Feel free to waste your miserable life out of my company.”

He bowed in mockery, pointing toward the door, “There's the exit.” 

I was already leaving. I passed Morr at the top of the stairs. She was walking with Azriel. Neither said anything, but they were, the pair of them, sharing twin smiles.

***

When I caught myself in the mirror I was embarrassed by my own lifelessness. Though death, in the end, had lost it still seemed to take with it souvenirs I imagined would be returned to me at a later date—some youth I had lost and could never get back. My skin seemed to drag down my face like its being there was a reluctant favor. My coloring had gone sallow, everything was limp. Even my hair seemed tired falling with great weight. I needed a proper rinse rather than the half bathing I had been allowed the week before.

I dipped below the water and closed my eyes, willing myself to feel the warmth of the tub within. I could think of no other remedy to bring it back, life reached toward warmth. It seemed to work, the longer I sat there the more real I began to feel, emptying the room-temperature water every so often and replacing it with something more scathing. 

Regardless, however, of my intention to return to myself the recurring thoughts always seemed to cycle through me with glaring direction toward Lucien. He’d bothered me before, but there was something infinitely worse about this version which seemed to be talking with a subtext I myself was unaware of or could not read the same as I had. We were different now, I’d have to learn all over again what I’d once instinctively understood. 

We used to be so good at it, understanding what the other meant, circling each other like wolves. It had been fun to do it, to wield something fatal like words and to know just the same that they’d never kill, they were actually anticipating the attack all along. For what it was worth I liked seeing him at a table, liked that it meant someone was there who could be counted on for a challenge. He’d look at me and I’d know precisely what each nod of his head meant, each gesture. We’d laugh all the while anger without violence, joy for the sake of pain. I loved hating him and I loved that he hated me, but looking back the fun of it seems to diminish in quality, vanishing almost entirely the further I looked to the past. 

All these years he found me pleasant to look at while I found him handsome and yet neither of us had ever said so. We were, perhaps, more transparent than we thought. We’d said more by omission than any other verbal demolition. Now even words were obscured by their meaning, by the direction his eyes faced when he said them. I knew nothing. Where was that universe we’d been to, where it had been seamless, easy even to slip into our sincerity? How do I get back? I didn’t want to be brave and yet with each day he didn’t return to me, I realized I would have to be. 

The wraiths combed out my hair, it was too painful to twist and reach back still. They did so with great care talking and laughing of the recent events and with each venture into the business of my mate I narrowly avoided them. I closed my eyes and dreamed of their gentleness when it had come from other people and other places. I returned endlessly to the night in that very room. When the brush got too close to my temple I recalled, against my will, the feeling of his fingers brushing the hair from my face. I rested my forehead against my knees. The two females grew quiet, talking only with each other eventually, one stringing in long thin strands of gold with ornate stars. It matched the dress. I looked like the night sky. 

Rhys had come halfway through to check when I’d be done, noting, that I was holding everyone up. When I got downstairs no one was there but him, smiling, in a suit that matched me. He had wine waiting. 

“Which is it, are you abandoning me or forcing me to spend time with you?” 

“I abandon you when it’s warranted.” 

“It was you who said you’d stay out of my business,” I said sipping the wine. Rhys’ agenda remained veiled. I don’t know what he got out of any of it, but regardless it was of little benefit.

“I said, I’d let you deal with your affairs. How am I to do that if you won’t even be in the same room as each other?”

I opened my mouth to reply but to do so incriminated me. Either we’d been together and he didn’t know about it which he’d tease me on or I’d admit he was right and therefore he had indeed needed to force us together. Worse, I’d have to pretend it didn’t bother me, that Lucien was always missing. Regardless he relieved me of having to do either. 

“How is it going with your mate.” 

“He’s even more charming up close.”

Rhys snorted. “You should have seen the glee Morr had in reporting to me of your fight in the garden.”

“No one shows any allegiance to my cause.”

“And what precisely is your cause, moping in your room? Not quite as captivating as mine.”

“And yours would be?” 

Rhys smiled and took a sip of his wine, shrugging like it were as equally unknown to him as it was me. I don’t know why I’d believed him in his office. It shouldn’t be of much shock that his letting me deal with this involved his own agenda. I could only imagine the entertainment he got in trying to parse out what was true, what he believed me to feel, or what all these years I’d told him. It didn’t matter that the time before was different and disconnected from the time now, so long as eventually what he said came true he’d feel he’d won.  

“I’m figuring it out, no thanks to you.” 

“All thanks to me. What do you think we’re all dressed up for?” 

He was even more nosy and self-important than I imagined. Forcing us all into a dinner with fine clothes just so what exactly, Lucien would have to sit next to me at dinner? “And suddenly you’ve got a keen liking for him. Weren’t you the one scolding me three days ago?”

“I’ve seen more of him than you, so there’s an argument to be made for me at least. Plus you looked worse today than you did when you arrived a week ago, it’s not hard to do the math.” 

“You don’t know what I want.”

He raised a brow at me, and I’d known then I’d been giving myself away. When he came in to see me as I was getting dressed I bet it was plain as anything the quiet of the room, one look from the wraiths.

I dropped my illusions, rubbing at my forehead. “Well, I wouldn’t even know if your guess was right, so stay out of it. You’re not helping me figure it out.”

“That would ruin our fun.” I glared at him, knowing he meant the court myself excluded, but he continued “I’ve placed a few bets and I’m interested to see if I’m right, especially tonight.”

“What bets?” 

Rhys moved toward the living room and spoke so even I could barely hear him. “Don’t let him get away with his behavior because he bats his eyes at you.”

“I can’t stand you.” 

“Good luck.” 

I went to get the last word in but when I turned, Lucien had been making his way into the foyer. Rhys ducked into the sitting room and as soon as he moved out of my sight the walls seemed to turn inward toward us.

He was still in borrowed clothes, but he was there. The hearth of the adjacent room was our only cover from curious ears. The logs shifted and cracked under the heat. It covered everything with a film of half-silence. Even his breathing, if he were, was masked by it. We were in nearly identical positions as we’d been just a few days previous, but instead of the tension pulling between us something light entered the room. I thought I heard a sigh of relief. 

“You look well,” He said stepping forward.

“I feel well,” the words left me with unintended softness, like the moment required it and on instinct, I played along. He pointed to the bottle of wine at the table and made it the rest of the way across the room.

“Is this for everyone?”

“Yes,” I extended him my glass, and in the light, I saw the imprint of my lips. I was so used to it, letting Morr or anyone finish what I could not commit to. He saw it too and as I went to pull back his hand fast, gentle, enclosed my wrist and took it from me.

“Thank you,” he said with the sincerity you have to whisper, and staring at the rim brought the mark of my lips to his own. Through the glass I watched them touch. They became indistinguishable from one another, where I had been and where he now was. A heat, not of embarrassment but some other kind I couldn’t name rose from the ground up, clouding my head. I watched it all. Even when he pulled away I kept my eyes where his lips had only just been. 

“Did you want a glass?” 

I nodded even though I didn’t. I had no words to explain something even as simple as the lack of a craving. He poured it anyway. The relief of the cool glass made it worth it and when I shifted so followed suit of everything else. You wouldn’t have even noticed that the world was off kilter had you not seen what I did, a kiss that hadn’t really happened. 

“I’ve never seen you in Night Court colors.”

“Females must honor, by dress, the court they’re visiting unless they’re married.” He’d not been to the Hewn City, not at least while I was there. He wouldn’t have realized it either, even with our years between us, it wouldn’t have mattered before. We were too busy with our disgust.

“I find it convenient,” I said sipping from my glass, “that you’re suddenly remembering your manners now that I’m pretty again.”

“You’re too smart to believe something so stupid as that.”

“What should I believe?”

He looked out the window, holding the glass up to his mouth but not drinking, not yet. “Whatever you wish as long as it’s not that.” Then he pressed his mouth to the same place he’d done before, and met my eye. A playful thread wrapped around his features and tugged. Even as he sippied I watched the indent at his mouth sharpen. Now that I'd admitted he was handsome it was as if no other word existed half the time for anything. Everything fell under its terms and yet nothing quite so specifically captured its beauty. Not at least, besides Lucien.

“You told me I couldn’t brood and you spent the greater part of the afternoon stewing. Care to share?”

Outside there was still no sign of the rest of our court. Rhys, if he was alone in that sitting room, had nothing to distract him from our conversation. Even had I wanted to admit to Lucien that I’d spent the greater part of the afternoon sitting in the bath thinking of him I couldn’t with my brother so close. 

“Not in the slightest.”

He hummed, “you think I won’t work it out?”

“I think you’re busy. You don’t need to waste time with my feelings when you have your own. And I wouldn’t even be able to tell you because I don’t remember every fleeting emotion and its cause.” 

“I do. There was some curiosity, a little regret, followed by periodic and yet endless somberness,” Lucien said groaning as if the feeling was truly endless and the weight of it had been unbearable even just in memory. 

“Next time it happens you could come and ask me.”

“Yes, next time then. I was busy today, spending my miserable life away from you.”

My small amusement could have been concealed but a breath of it caught the wine in my glass and some splashed onto my face so I was forced to wipe it away. Lucien said nothing. The bond warmed. 

 “And you?” I said finally when no taunt came. “Are you well?”

Despite how strained my chest became with my own desperation I hoped no matter how it struck, how much I wanted him to be enjoying Velaris, Lucien would still answer honestly. If he were to lie just to spare me I don’t know if I could forgive him. 

“Yes, in part.”

“Which part?” 

“The part that’s glad to see you at home and safe.”

“And the other, the one that’s not well?”

“The same as you, the piece that remains unwell.” 

Lucien’s gaze dropped to my side and beneath the skin, the cut ached like it knew he was looking. The part of him that lived within me strained with echoing ache, they recognized each other. The cut and the tether, like calling to like. I wanted to touch the pieces of him I found beneath my skin and soothe them, even if it were useless work. He’d be unwell until I wasn’t.

“If you can manage to fit it between your moments of somber,” he continued, “I was hoping you might show me Velaris.” 

“You’ve not gone and seen the city yet?” 

“No.” He said shifting on his feet a little, his eyes staring down into his glass without taking a sip. “It's yours. You should be the one to show me.”

Down the bond, something relaxed, serene, and it almost convinced me to join in on the feelings. He’d said this with a sense that there was nothing strange about it, while it seemed to me the opposite. He waited for me. He had never once waited for me. 

I wiped the sweat from my palms on my dress.“I’ll think of some places.”

“When you do, try to remember right now and not this afternoon in the garden.” 

“Why, you think I’ll take you somewhere seedy?” 

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a gang of Illyrians in your honor waiting around some corner for me.” 

I let out a laugh. It burst from me and I made to cover my mouth. He watched me, something brightening on his face. I don’t know if I had ever done such a thing with him, or even around him—laughed like this. The real true laughter I had at home was reserved for private moments, so as to be polite for all the rest. I shook my head, attempting to stifle it, to recover. “None care for me so much.” 

Then he did something he does often, which was easy to miss if you didn’t know it. He looked at me. Not the kind of the past, eyes narrowed, waiting to strike, but a different one I’d seen him use before. Even as I hated him I’d know the first time I saw his face take on the look of intention, that he was seeing me truly and entirely. The first time it happened was the night before the bond snapped. We’d been standing in the hall, outside our rooms. 

“Your good blood is wasted,” he said the sky just barely dark enough to sleep. I could see the way the words showed up on his face, how he’d meant it. He laughed, “I don’t know anyone who’d have you.”

“Plenty of things exist regardless of your not knowing them.”

The blankets behind me rustled with movement and the Cauldron laughed. He glanced behind me but said nothing. He could surprise me even then. Instead, he looked at me as he was in the foyer, with something so intent on seeing the whole I was sure he really was. I let him. I waited for the moment where shame, fear, or even violation crept through the world where I was standing in my pajamas with so little grace. The longer I waited the less sure I was it would arrive. 

Even without the bond, I knew his curiosity as if it were in me too. 

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Lucien,” I said without thinking too long on the words or the fact we’d never said them, they were too polite and well intended. I closed the door and watched the blankets rise and fall where Kallias lay in a beam of light that wasn’t even half night, maybe only a quarter. 

The next day, despite the cold civility of our endings we’d returned twice as short with one another. But I couldn’t forget what had happened and never did. How could you? That something like that exists and you can tell the difference. When someone is looking with the acknowledgment of your person as unique rather than what they had categorized you out to be. Whatever he discovered that night I didn’t know, but something new had taken shape in his mind and replaced what had been there before. I understood after that some looks existed as witness, and the rest as nothing at all. 

He’d done this so much over the years that I let out a sigh of relief, to at last understand him again, if only in the smallest way. Now instead of walking away between us, something tightened. I gestured toward the sitting room to divert us, suddenly overwhelmed at the idea he’d say what he saw, what he thought, but Lucien too had extended his hand.

Our glasses hit. The lip of them clinked together while my knuckles roughly scraped along his. I knew where we’d collided, where one move ended and mine began from the short warmth I got in our touch. I might not have known what had happened were it not for that small difference between us. 

Despite our collective efforts to right our drinks, they fumbled in our fingers. Two heaps of wine lay between us, splattered on the ground. Lucien was already walking down the hall toward the kitchen before I could speak, apologizing repeatedly. His empty glass abandoned on the table. 

“It's nothing,” I said following behind him. 

Behind us, Cassian, Morr, and Azriel entered with precise timing. Someone let out a low whistle and Morr yelled for no one in particular asking what had happened. They were gone though, in another room and it might as well have been another life. Lucien asked where the rags were and I existed for a single moment in his question and his alone. It was an ordinary accident, to do what we did, but it was rare too that the graces of immortality failed twice. I wanted all my attention on the mundanity of him and me cleaning. I found I could not actually pull my focus away. Where he had been leading, he waited and turned back before I replaced him. We pulled two clean rags from their place, and made down the hall, my shoulder fell with each step into the soft fabric at his arm.

“Sorry,” Lucien said, rolling up his sleeves and looking toward the sitting room. I could feel the foreign embarrassment in my chest, “sorry.”

“I do it all the time.”

I knelt and began to sop up the spill. Despite my attention, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him directly, to see him in the way one is when they’re at home, undone. I’d want it too much I knew, I’d try for a hundred more messes just to see him roll his sleeves up. I couldn’t let myself hunger anymore. I already wanted that which came with notes of despairity. Instead, as I wiped in circles on the floor I let his body periodically move into my field of vision as he cleaned the other half. The shirt tucked in on itself, exposed his forearm. You didn’t get to do this anywhere else, not really, you didn’t get to be at home. I should know this arm, this person it was attached to, I’d seen it plenty before but all the while his embarrassment was foreign, and so too his movements were unpredictable and routine. 

“I should have known to avoid the area, you talk with your hands,” he said once the floor was clear and we were back on our feet. He was smiling ever so slightly when he said it, fixing his shirt back into proper place. I couldn’t bring myself to mirror the move, to right what the minor chaos had undone. 

“It’s funny,” I said instead while his body slipped back into itself. “I used to be able to tell what you were thinking. I thought the bond, exposing it, would make everything easier, but I think I know less than I did before. I can never figure out what you mean, never know how anything will end.”

I finally allowed myself to look at him truly as the cuff of his sleeve at last dropped to cover his wrist. I felt him, his staring at me with the slightest wrinkle in his brow and also the reason for that single imperfection being there. Again, unexpected, sorrow deep-rooted but new climbed beneath my skin like a vine. He opened his mouth and I hoped it would tear the growing thing but we were interrupted again.

“Shall we?” Cassian said appearing from nothing. It was no struggle to look away, I wasn’t brave enough to face the consequences of myself. I wanted the sadness to end there in that moment, I wanted not to know that look of small unintentional demolition. 

“You’re flying with Cassian. Unfortunately Lucien is with me” Rhys said avoiding the male’s eyes. 

“Flying?” Lucien asked.

I tapped my shoulder, letting my mask fall into place on the amusement of his impending discomfort, “half Illyrian.”

“I’d take you if I could,” Morr said. “But you can’t winnow in. You could take the stairs but I suspect Amren will be waiting and she’s better with a group.” 

Lucien seemed barely to follow the thread on new information, stuck on the fact we’d be flying and that Rhys apparently was taking him. That even a High Lord couldn’t winnow himself into a place in his own court must have been strange when Beron had wielded absolute power however he could.

Standing in the streets of Velaris and hearing the current of the Sydra had the same effect as sitting in the warm bath water. There was a returning power within me. I was stronger, could feel that good humor circling around my mind as it settled in waiting to be used again. I walked more surely, following behind Cassian who looked out at the water. Just hearing it, the sounds of the city and its people enjoying their evening or the river pressing onward in its pursuit was of some comfort. I knew the world wasn’t waiting for my return and I liked it that way, that these things could be counted on regardless of the universe we found outside the door. 

The warrior turned, his frame blocked out the lights across the river. I’m sure on a battlefield, in the village, such a display might startle those who knew him only barely. He’d never intimidated me. As if he knew I’d been thinking this, he leaned down so we were eye level. 

“I won’t be easy on you.”

“You’re all talk.” 

He smiled conspiratorially. From behind I knew Rhys was watching, listening. The new sense of strength made me eager, I slid into his mind, testing for any pain, and found only a slight cramping. It was enough that I managed at least to say, it’s been a while since we’ve given them a real show. 

Cassian smiled, I’ve been thinking precisely the same. 

Before he could pull me into his arms I looked back at Lucien who was watching uneasily. 

“You’ve delivered me to the Illyrians just as you promised.”

In quick procession, I was pulled into Cassian’s arms, who held me with all the care in the world. I latched onto him before looking toward our court. Rhys began to move toward us, hand outstretched in objection.   

“Don’t—“ 

But we were airborne before the command could be heard enough to qualify as disobedience. The wind pushed through my hair and I laughed, really laughed. Now I remembered how. The lights of the houses fell like stars behind us. I twisted with little resistance, he was fast, we were already far too high. The Sydra appeared like a murky ink spill down a map. 

“Ready?” Cassian yelled over the wind. 

I held tighter in confirmation and just like that we were plummeting back toward the cobbled world. Cassian let out a loud cry, as if announcing us and our amusement. I echoed with my own. The joy seemed to pierce the night in half, making light with it. From the ground, our court managed to make themselves heard like our happiness was contagious even at a distance. With the water closing in we pulled up just in time for me to dangle one hand along the surface and skim the river with my finger. I could just tell how cold it was, not touching it enough to withdraw, but was in its proximity. We lifted again and they watched us loop, climb, fall, and twist.

 It was only when we got close enough Rhys yelled, “Get to the house of wind before I sic Amren on you.” A very real warning, and Cassian knew as much. He danced past the court once more before climbing up the altitude and slowing his pace. 

“They can’t handle that we’re more fun than them.”

“We have a shared aptitude for chaos,” Cassian agreed.

Buildings passed beneath us and a sense of peace swathed in. I surrendered myself to it. I was never sure how long those moments would last. I closed my eyes, and imagined Lucien now on his way to the house of wind, standing on the balcony in the Autumn air. Unlike him, his being here required his introduction to my real life, the true one which was hidden for many years. His home, the intimacy of his day-to-day life remained back in a court with which I would likely never again return to. 

And he was here, making his way to the house we’d had all those dinners in, seeing the streets of a city that reverberated with decades of my joy. I bet you could still hear it there, eroding the stones. I was made here. That itself was an intimacy and he was not so foolish as to miss it. I was exposed by default. The bond between him and I was a tether, but it wouldn’t surprise me if on his end it felt like water, if it felt like the Sydra.

“Thank you, for what you did the other night,” Cassian said. He, more than anyone, managed to find the words to say what had not been said. He had suddenly that look of contemplation that made him more serious than he normally was. It always followed a sense of care or duty on his part. Whatever his reason, his need to speak had yet to reveal itself. “Rhys told me what you said, about the new world. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about him, but I’m glad you forced our hand a bit. I don’t think any of that was easy.”

He didn’t have to elaborate, or say who he meant. I knew now. “Not as hard as you think. Not at least when you know the people you’re talking to.”

“That night was a disaster waiting to happen,” he shook his head. “You were being brave whether or not you will say and I wanted you to know. Plus I’m not averse to admitting when I’m wrong. Your mate is already proving to be very entertaining.” 

The small discomfort of those rare moments of total sincerity slipped away and we both let it. I was grateful for all of it even when at times the vulnerability made me itch beneath my skin. I had no reply but luckily he dropped the subject, adding only one last thought. 

“I know Rhys and Morr have cornered you but if you ever want to talk about what happened.”

“There are no words. Not yet anyway.”

Whatever qualms I had with my court, their allegiance to Rhys vs. their friendship with me, there was something irreplaceable in the world we shared between each other. No two were identical, and they arrived when I needed them. Cassian had a rare ability, I think given where he came from, to listen to someone talk without imposing his own worldview on the subject. In the right moods, he was always there without judgment, open to what I thought. To him, I was an equal, and he took me and my ideas very seriously. I would always love him for that. 

The balcony to the house of wind came into view. I could see the court there waiting. We apparently took the scenic route. I turned to him and smiled, “Rhys is gonna eat us alive.” 

As soon as we were in earshot I could hear the beginning of his reprimand. We landed softly and Cassian placed me in front of the frustrated High Lord. 

“What if you’d split your stitches? That’s dangerous even when you’re not injured.”

I passed by him and patted his shoulder. “Noted.”

I could hear his teeth grinding. “Keep it up and Madja will be removing those stitches at a 6 am training session.” 

I sneered if only to make him feel the threat was legitimate, but I doubted his making good on those comments. I walked straight to Lucien whom Morr had taken into conversation. 

“Unlike your brother, we found the show very entertaining.”

“Cassian and I should consider alternative employment, a traveling band maybe,” I said looking over my shoulder toward the male who looked for all the world like his normal self again. His smile was easy, his eyes bright. 

A hand clamped down on my other side, however, and Azriel’s voice drew everyone’s attention.“You’d need to be employed for there to be an alternative.”

I let them have it, their laugh, if only because Lucien laughed too. It was without malice and I could handle the same tired jokes for that sake. 

Any comment I had ready slipped away from importance but I said, only to keep up appearances, “I like you better gone.”

The others took their joy indoors. Flying had actually hurt my side and I let them go ahead to avoid Rhys catching me limping. I wouldn’t be fast enough to evade one of his lectures. I found the railing of the balcony and looked out over the city as their voices faded, tucked beneath a gust of wind then gone altogether. 

“Is it like this all the time where you’re from?”

I knew he was there. He’d gotten in the habit of waiting for me now twice. Whenever the Cauldron decided to pull that thread between two hearts, from that point on, I suspect, I began to know the difference from the air alone of what rooms he was and wasn’t in. 

The windows below dimmed and grew in brightness. It was the city’s pulse, it told me this place was living. I was always acutely aware of the lights, what it meant that another person was there in those houses, those rooms. At times it overwhelmed me, that within a few hundred windows lived people who, like me, had their own worries, duties, their own hearts. They were at the mercy of the same Cauldron, they wanted things and didn’t get them, and tried to understand that which could never be understood. 

Lucien pressed his hands into the cool stone railing and watched just as I watched. 

“Sometimes,” he said. I wanted to go into his memories. I could see how his mind went further than I could see or know. “The best time of year is really at the end of summer or just before. I like to sleep with the windows open then, wake to the cold.”

“Do you?”

He nodded, “I like the cold.”

“It's too bad this isn’t Winter Court.”

He huffed a laugh, “not that kind and not too much. By midday, the wind might be cool but the sunlight is warm, that's really it. I like a cold I can chase away.”

A breeze came up over the edge and I folded into myself, trying to preserve what little heat was left from flying with Cassian. Lucien turned and I followed. Any longer alone and I wasn’t sure we’d manage to make it out of dinner without being at the end of every joke.

“Do you have wings?”

I shook my head. “No. I spent plenty of time in the air though.”

“I could’ve guessed.” 

He smiled at me then. The kind of smile you give someone when you’ve first met them and it's selfish really, but all you want is for them to find you funny or charming, or anything good. We were in that place, the other place that felt like another world. We’d found our way back to something and I wanted to keep it very carefully in my hands, but I wasn’t sure of its dimensions. I was only sure I would crush it.

We passed into the house and it warmed me to my bones. I waited for the threshold to bring with it the real world waiting, but the one we’d found remained firmly in place. I couldn’t explain it, how I knew, I just understood it the way I had used to understand him. I knew the rules without having to be told, that what happened here happened only here. So I could be brave.

“You haven’t come to see me. I thought you would, after we spoke.”

He stopped at the top of the stairs and waited but didn’t put his arm out. “I told you, I’m at your disposal.”

“You told that to Rhys.”

“I was talking to you.”

I wiped my palms again, then grabbed for the railing. We moved slowly for the pain but Lucien didn’t act as if we were doing anything out of the ordinary. You’d have thought he lived with leisure, that we’d always taken our time with each other. 

“Is it not enough for you then, to know I’ve been waiting?” 

“You haven’t asked for me.”

A cool draft reached my back, brushing around my ankle. I shivered, and within the same instant my ankle gave way and I stumbled on it down the next stair. Lucien was already there, arms open like he knew it was going to happen. We said nothing, not as I waited a moment in the warmth that seeped through his clothes, or when we began walking again, his arm a ghost around my waist for support. 

“It's not so simple.”

“What’s it like then?” 

We reached a small landing. I could hear the smattering of laughter spilling out from the dining room down the hall. Over his shoulder I spied the ornate walls, the decoration of the house. It was reminiscent, in the slightest of ways, of the Autumn house. Something over the top, something old about it. Though it was darker than night court there. Colder too. Did he have something like Velaris? Some place he could be himself?

“You don’t feel it?” I said, the way we went in and out of these places where we could and couldn’t be as we’d been. One room we’re on each other just as we always used to be and then we take the stairs and suddenly an arm is tucked beneath you in favor, from someone who’d sooner laughed if you’d admitted you were in pain. 

“Feel what?”

The universe began to recede on that point and I no longer had the courage. I thought we came here together but it wasn’t true, I was alone. Lucien stepped with me. We moved in silence. I know he felt my disappointment straining near his heart and pushing into it. I knew when he’d been overtaken by it, my own feelings grew twofold. 

At the bottom of the stairs, I forced down the feeling, and did the only thing I could think to recover the easiness and joy of the night. 

“Watch out for Amren, she bites,” I joked.

Lucien gave nothing away, his lips didn’t pull in any direction and his forehead was creaseless. His disappointment remained. When he set his eyes on me there was such an intensity I knew he wouldn’t let me get away with any of it. He never did. 

“I’ve been waiting for you too.”

Everyone was huddled together, wine in hand, already at ease. I went ahead of Lucien his disappointment in me unearthing the need to act as a shield. As we got in, however, I found only softness seemed to be waiting. Laughter, warmth, food at the table, and the turn of a few heads in our direction in greeting. You’d think we’d done it all before, a thousand times, you’d think Lucien had always been here. I felt my mate’s curiosity replace the heaviness and I let that relieve me just enough to get through dinner. There would be a time to answer his question, he’d be sure to ask again, but for now, we would eat. 

 It was Morr who acknowledged us first, and I knew from her words our absence was not totally unchecked.

“Finally.” 

There she was, the not-quiet fae. Her black hair, dark as night, turned to reveal her cutting face. Amren said nothing and approached with ease, preternatural elegance that even for a Fae looked somewhat too perfect, too serene. The fierceness, to me who knew her, managed though to soften on the edges like dawn.

“With all that blood you shed, girl, you’d have been better use coming to me.”

“And when all my blood made you sick you’d curse me in death too,” I said. Lucien stilled behind me, unsure of the danger, of what Amren was. “Still holding a grudge over the wine I spilled on you last Starfall?”

“I’m truly immortal. We do not forgive.” Her eyes darted toward Lucien who didn’t show any sort of reserve now, even as she grew more serious and the air around us shifted to accommodate her. “They said they asked for the lares.” 

At that word, we all went just as still as Amren. It was a pristine instant, broken only by the nod of my head in confirmation. Lucien, to his credit, took a step toward me, his presence unflinching, his protection instinctual. It didn’t matter that Amren had that aura to her, the kind that upon first meeting could unsettle you because there was something about her that you couldn’t place.

She turned her attention toward the male and looked up at him, “so, it was you who managed to get her back to Velaris?”

He was his usual self, indifference bordering on cold, “in part.”

“And how was that?”

I doubt Lucien wasn’t aware of how much his answer would offer. Everyone was waiting to hear what he’d say and though I said I wanted them to be nice, this would settle a dust he’d kicked up in his arrival here. He looked more fully toward me now and his brows rose. “She’s put me through worse.” 

Of all those who gathered, the last person I suspected would offer their good opinion was Amren. The small dangerous thing before me relaxed her mouth in the most mute way. She only smiled when it was her own doing, but tonight, I saw that slight uptick. If you’d asked me which was more likely, this or the world-shattering into pieces I’d have chosen the latter. 

“Why did you never mention your mate was handsome?”

I didn’t get the chance to think on the impossibility before she was talking to me again. I recovered the emissary of parties past. The usual dryness came back with that usual flat voice like it never left. 

“Because he isn’t.”

Rhys came up and clapped Lucien on the shoulder, the most I’d ever seen him do for any male I brought around, and said, “we, more than anyone, have the greatest sympathy for you.” Then he handed him a glass of wine. Lucien took a celebratory sip. He’d passed the test and Rhys was right, he fit right in.

“Is that why Cassian wished me luck?” Lucien asked. 

Morr looked between them, “luck with what?”

“He said I’d need it with her given she’s a bit of a—“

“Well I didn’t say that exactly.” Cassian interrupted.

Lucien probably recognized the look better than anyone, the face of someone unimpressed, even as he felt the entertainment I let simmer beneath the surface of my face. “Do explain then, what precisely you said.”

Though Cassian’s mouth opened and closed not one word came out. I bet I could guess what he’d said, she’s a bit of a handful. He’d know, before I’d perfected the art of sneaking males in and out, he’d found me tip toeing out the door or hiding in the cabin several times. Took years to recover any Illyrian's trust that we would not be caught together. Everyone looked on at him waiting to see how he’d dig his way out, but no remedy came to mind. The more he stuttered the further our mouths stretched with amusement. 

“Cassian can explain over dinner,” Rhysand said, sparing him. 

As the male walked up to me all smiles, arms outstretched for reconciliation, I sent my fist into his bicep. He acted like it hurt. Cassian led me away going on about how he’d only said it as a joke and because he wanted to welcome my mate. I wasn’t really interested, I was preoccupied with my brother's attention still remaining on Lucien. I couldn’t hear what Rhys said, but I could feel it. I couldn’t pretend not to notice that fullness warming between my ribs. The pair of them were smiling, they shared some sort of camaraderie. I could see it, even at a distance, he actually liked Lucien. 

Cassian pulled out my chair and I sat, the same spot I’d sat in a thousand times. I watched my brother who had the same face, the same gesture of talking as he would with any of us, but now it was directed at someone who, a week ago, he almost killed. 

I tried not to smile or eavesdrop as I let them share something, whatever it was that could develop in so short a time. Rhys had said there was a case to be made, his sudden regard. I didn’t need to know what had changed for him, not yet anyway. In that well of anxiety I had for Lucien, I felt another part empty. 

Different or the same, that was how the world functioned now. What was different and what was the same. Maybe everything had changed at the same time in the same way and therefore I couldn’t tell the difference. I could go the rest of my life uncovering what those little things are. No, these things are never so easy. 

The chair beside me moved and I turned expecting Morr, but as I looked I saw her on the other side of the table. In her place I found Lucien. He hesitated, looking around for somewhere else to sit but all the rest of the places had been taken, with Rhys falling into the chair at the head, smirking. 

He wouldn’t know, couldn’t, that all of this was out of the ordinary. We’d sat in the same spots for years. Rhys must have known I was about to reprimand him, regardless of using magic or not, because he shielded his mind and turned away from me to speak with Amren. I rubbed at my side. At the very least, however, my cousin seemed to take pity on him. I’m sure he’d have liked to be anywhere else after our conversation in the hall. 

“Have you been yet to walk along the Sydra?” 

He shook his head, sipped from his glass. I felt a tightness, almost sickly, of the casualness he had there in that spot. His every move was reminiscent of a routine he couldn’t have. He passed dishes, poured water, and spoke with Morr like an old friend we’d not seen in too long. He didn’t acknowledge me or my watching, but he rubbed at his chest where the bond must be. I forced myself to relax, to turn and speak with Azriel on my other side. 

“The moment I’m healed I think we need to go out.” 

“Is that so?” He feigned the air of not wanting to go. He didn’t even look up as he piled vegetables on one side of his plate and passed me the warm dish. I knew he was interested though, if Cassian and I as a pair could be chaotic, Azriel and I managed to be dangerous. 

I leaned in whispering, “think of all the fun we have at dawn flying home. I could wing woman you too.”

“ I don’t recall you being very effective the last time you promised that.”

“She was a real dud and what I don’t recall is you being so skeptical of me the dozen other times you left the place arm and arm with someone.”

He smiled, “2henever you’re ready to be back in Madja’s care we’ll go. 

I don’t know when that night would come around, if it were the kind of plans you make with an air of understanding that they will likely reside for a while in your dreamland. It might end up being the topic of many diners beginning with, we should, we have to, or when are we... If it did happen, however, wherever my life was at that point I knew Azriel would demand nothing of me in explanation. It would be nice, to feel for a moment I wasn’t avoiding something. And if I felt the need to say something he might impart some passing wisdom or just listen. 

Azriel leaned in closer to me, murmuring, “don’t invite Cassian though. With him and your brother around I don’t want their lack to rub off on me.”

“You two are making plans,” Cassian said pointing his fork at us. “Am I invited?” 

“Depends,” I said.

“On?” 

“If you get Rhys to come or not.” 

Upon hearing his name, he halted his conversation with Amren and looked our way, brow lifted as indication that he was prepared to hear our offer. Cassian cleared his throat with a sense of formality, “we’re in need of a proper night out.” 

“Fall is almost in full swing,” Morr added joining the cause. “We’ve barely caused a ruckus.”

“Barely is pretty generous,” Azriel said.

I knocked him with my foot and he laughed under his breath. Rhysand’s eyes scanned the room. Somewhere, you’d think, a reason not to do it was waiting and I was sure he’d find it. Our night out all together would remain a whimsical ideal. We’d bother him for several months, over too many dinners, a hundred courses, just to hear him finally say yes when none of us were around to partake in it. 

“Any thoughts Amren?”

“I certainly have energy to expel.” She said but this was always true. “Whether we go or not it shall come out.”

“Easy there. You scare more males than Y/N does,” Cassian said.

She faced off with the warrior without a blink. “With good reason.”

Rhys gave no hint as to what he would rule which usually meant no. I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my chair. He had screwed his face into such neutrality I was sure he would say we had too much work to do, that dealing with Beron was taking up all his time. 

“And you?” 

Lucien seemed just as caught out by the consideration, sitting upright having not anticipated the attention.“What about me?”

“I won’t carry dead weight. Do they have fun over in Autumn Court or are you as sad as I always believed?”

He’d never seen him as I had seen him. Hungover at breakfast, sneaking sips of wine from his cup to recover or the wickedness of his smile as he’d tower over some female and move to whisper something in her ear. Insults got wielded so easily the later the night went on. Promises to meet after hours to finish a fight were exchanged so readily. Even if he did often brood, Lucien was no stranger to the fun of other courts.

“I’ll manage,” Lucien said like he couldn’t care less, but his eyes slipped over to me and I knew Rhys had seen. After the show I’d made with Cassian and the conversation we’d had in the foyer if he thought everyone was getting together on my account, it would do us no favors.

But Rhys offered up the usual conditions of such a night, “first one to turn in has to pay the tab.” 

So, he remembered how to have fun. Rhys raised his glass in my direction and I returned the gesture. Conversations picked up, but I felt a shift in my mind. I froze. My shields has fallen. I hadn’t noticed him arrive, didn’t know what thoughts he had or hadn’t heard.

You think so poorly of me. He didn’t seem too put out by my assessment.

With good reason. 

C’mon, you used to be so much more fun!

I could say the same to you. You’re so dull these days.

Lucien spoke animatedly with Cassian. Rhys and I looked between them and without any words I knew we both were registering how dangerous the pair would be together. They’d need to meet their match eventually. My brother and I could be that. We were likely the most wretched children in all of Prythian and we were, usually, a united force. For all his worth, all his poking his nose in and needing to be High Lord, he was just as often my willing accomplice. 

We’ll have to give your mate a proper welcome.

From across the table, Rhys ate as if we weren’t plotting revenge. I smiled, and I think Cassian too should pay the price for his comments tonight. 

I could not agree more. 

It will be a night to remember I’m sure. 

I hope it is. I can’t stand to imagine you forgetting that every so often I like to return to the job of being your very mischievous older brother.

With that, I was alone in my thoughts. Rhys was right though, it was good to remember I could count on him. I’d spent how long dealing with their nosiness, I could let myself be both annoyed and endeared that they cared enough, that for some reason they saw Lucien fit enough despite all those years, to try and welcome.

I waited for the conversation to drift my way, watching the same pairs break off and reform but nothing, not even a side comment or reference was pointed in my direction. In fact, after a while, it occurred to me that no one was even looking toward this part of the table. Morr was fixed on Cassian, Rhys too, kept his careful attention on Amren, and I saw only the back of Azriel’s head. It might have meant nothing, but the more I noticed, the more I thought, the less certain I was of each coincidence. 

I clenched my jaw and looked toward my brother who, just as I met his face, reengaged with Amren. Not a shield, but just as good. He was giving me no choice. He’d revealed his plans, he had no reason to be coy, and he wanted us to work our business out. This was apparently where he best thought to do it. 

I kept my head down and ate. I would’ve been more annoyed had I felt, at my chest, the anxiety of someone who like me was searching for something to say. Lucien though did no such thing. He was just as satisfied as I was to keep to himself. They didn’t get it, the sureness we shared at one time, or how it felt now sitting tying us together. And the funny thing is, I might have had so much to say, might have pulled him in on whatever stories they were telling across the table and tried to get what we had back, the understanding I used to have. The forced circumstances only managed to obliterate what had been in my head besides the last real thing we’d said to each other.

I’ve been waiting for you too.

I’d made it clear, I know I had, that I wanted him around. He still waited. All that power we’d given one another to use and I don’t know if we were using it at all. A few passing comments, veiled acknowledgments that we were feeling the other nearly all the time. We were pretending to use that vulnerability under the guise of jokes we’d have made before all of this, but really we were doing nothing. We’ll figure things out just as we always have. But we hadn’t and we had to soon, Rhys was right.

“Madja said,” my brother began when his attempts to get us to talk proved fruitless. “That you should get out and walk for an hour each day starting tomorrow.”

I looked at him, a brow raised. He didn’t know that he didn’t have to do this anymore. I had already decided to change, regardless of the universe we found ourselves in after dinner. I could have my fun too, then, because even if he was right I’d already won. 

 “Did she? I don’t remember her saying so,” I said. “She told me privately.”

He was shameless. If Lucien didn’t notice our exile from other conversations he’d at least see this. As I expected, Rhys turned to my mate who’d stopped eating when the healer had been mentioned. 

“Lucien, you wouldn’t mind going with her would you?”

The only real noise was the creak of Lucien’s chair as he shifted back. Everyone was listening. No one offered themselves in Lucien’s place or volunteered shifts as they had when I was bedridden. I knew they wouldn’t and part of me still thought someone would come to my aid, would know somehow that I got it now.

“No I don’t mind,” he said.

“Then it’s settled!” Cassian said clapping his hands together, “maybe if she’s up to it she can tell you about the winter she spent at the cabin.”

“I think I will,” I smiled. “After I tell them about the building you smashed to rubble in Summer Court.” 

I took a sip of my wine and watched over the rim, the faces dropping around the table. Any noise that had been lingering from before vanished and an even more perfected quiet was left in the wake of my revelation. Of all the faces, Amren in particular seemed the least amused. 

“Excuse me?” Rhys said.

“Hm?” I deflected the storytelling to the male himself.

Cassian had to have been waiting for this since it happened. He continued to cut at his food, taking a bite before he sat back in his chair. The words seemed to formulate in front of him like the story itself was so complex he had to seek out the perfect way to tell it. 

He swallowed first, “It wasn’t even an important building.”

Azriel allowed himself a breathy laugh and nodded to me in approval. If ever there were a time to share it now was it.

“Why hasn’t Tarquin said anything to me?” Rhys asked.

“Y/N asked him not to.”

A betrayal for a betrayal. All eyes turned back to me. For someone who had just said he could be mischievous, Rhys found little amusement in the story and even less appreciation that I handled the situation entirely. A reprimand swished in his mouth like the first taste of wine you have before ordering the bottle. 

“You make it seem as though I asked him not to tattle on you. I stayed one extra day and we had dinner and I apologized and smoothed it over.” I said before he could yell. 

“And?”

“Cassian is, unfortunately, not allowed back to Adriata.”

“Well I am I just have to pay them back for the building, but they wanted a ridiculous price.” 

My brother seemed to deflate, “how much?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Accepting this at face value, he sighed. “Any other confessions I should consider?”

“Of what nature? I know quite a few secrets I’ve been dying to tell.” Amren asked having found the humor in it all just the same as the rest of us. Her eyes slid toward Azriel and he looked away, but the interest immediately stuck with us all. 

“Do I want to know?” Rhys said and I could tell he did. Amren wouldn’t keep anything truly bad to herself too long. 

“Azriel has been known to enjoy himself at Summer Court as well.”

“Amren,” Azriel said in warning. “I know just as much about you from our trip as you know about me.”

She grew serious and crossed her arms. “See if I care boy.” Though it was obvious she did. She sipped her wine and revealed nothing. 

To my surprise, however, a familiar taunting voice struck the room from beside me. “That wouldn’t happen to have been the trip you got locked out of Cressida’s room, nude, would it Azriel?”

In all my time of knowing Lucien, he had surprised me, both with his wretchedness and his behavior in other courts. One thing that I knew as well as I knew myself, however, was he was a good emissary. He could talk himself into any place he went, and so it should have been no surprise that he was just as amiable, but I felt so anyway. It was obvious now, between what I’d said to Rhys and then this, he fit in. Not just when the court welcomed him, but long before he’d ever known of this place to begin with.

Cassian for all the world looked like he had been told the greatest news of his life. He pressed his hands into his face and laughed tipping his head back into the air with such exertion I thought he might fall backward in his chair. Azriel didn’t seem at all phased by the revelation much less that it was Lucien who’d said it.

“Yeah and if I recall when you’d found me you were arm and arm with her mother.”

Rhys had to break then. All his anger relinquished itself the fact his court was foolish, and he loved them, especially when he was reminded just how foolish they could be. 

I didn’t get the chance to laugh though, a burning struck my side. Before the next confession could be wielded, a quick sheet of darkness fell around me and pooled beneath the table. It was just longer than a blink, and in the quiet burning realization of what had happened, there was only the sound of clinking. Overhead the chandelier swung haphazardly, something had knocked it. I clutched at my side. 

Cassian smirked. “Are you jealous Y/N?”

Lucien turned to me, a dangerous pair these two would be indeed, and smirked as if waiting for my confirmation of it. He could feel it no doubt, lashing around in his ribs trying to strike. Regardless of these perfect circumstances, what existed in the bond between us was truly unspoken. 

“Why shouldn’t she be?” Morr said before I could take the heat and as soon as I heard her voice I felt my stomach in my throat. “After she saw him all those years ago she developed quite the crush.”

“You said you’d never tell!” 

Morr smiled, she knew I had no other option than to confirm what she’d said. Not only that, but she was one of the few of us who remained unscathed by this sudden honesty hour. “I said no such thing. I promised you could tell me.”

Lucien sucked in his cheeks and suppressed the laughter in the way the rest of my court did not. I’d had a crush on him for all of one night, not even. It was shortly after Rhys became High Lord, when things were feeling normal again, but he’d wanted everyone at our first engagement just in case. We’d been informed Beron’s sons would be there, but they didn’t know which. 

“Any combination will be particularly wretched, so Cassian will be with you,” Rhys said as we walked into the garden they’d gathered us into. Tarquin was hosting, and in the heat and promise of perpetual summer, everyone was full of life, mingling. They’d strung up these lights which emitted the warmest glow, like daylight or the closest thing to it I have ever seen against a night sky. I stared at them when we walked in, as Rhys gave out the orders. They looked almost romantic to me, something like love in a bottle. He’d been standing beside Tamlin, Lucien was the first person I saw when I finally looked at the place, really looked. He was laughing.

I don’t know how long I was staring, but I could feel the look on my face. Infatuation personified, Morr had said and whenever I remembered those words together I was viscerally back in that moment, watching him laugh, not caring who he was because I knew from that first look.

“Do you like him?” Morr asked pulling me aside. 

I looked over my shoulder and saw him approach someone for a dance. There was an instant desperation, a pressure sitting in me that I had to let it out somehow.

“You won’t tell?”

It was a short-lived opinion, however. All night I stood there, my first party, and no one asked me to dance. Though I couldn’t say for certain if it was reputation, Cassian did not help remedy any nerves. 

“Who are you?” Eris had said when Cassian had slipped away to get us a drink. The night was half over but for a moment I thought it could be beginning. From context clues, it wasn’t so difficult to work out who he was either, but I didn’t care, I was just glad for the attention. I didn’t let that show. Even before Lucien, it was a dry business, talking to Autumn Court males.

“We shouldn’t be speaking.”

“Why's that?”

“I’m Night Court, we’re not exactly meant to mingle.”

It made him laugh, one of the few times I managed it, and it made me feel reckless, more confident than I should have been. “I should have guessed. Rhysand’s infamous sister.”

“Please.”

“I’m serious, I’d never feed the ego of any of you for no reason.”

“What's your reason now?”

He shrugged, “I think it’ll be funny to see that Illyrian’s face when he returns and sees who you deign to talk to.”

I turned to see if Cassian was on his way back, but he was nowhere to be found. “He won’t care.”

“Why.”

“Because I already decided I would lie if he showed up.”

Eris was handsome and I knew that as he stood there before me, his own cruelty was a distant future. I wouldn’t see him for 25 years after that night and even then it was sparse. It was Lucien after that, always Lucien. To the point that the only way I got Eris to laugh after was by doing so at his brother’s expense. 

“I’ll have to do something undeniable then.”

“Like?’

“Ask you to dance.”

I was silent. It wasn’t that I thought he was kidding, I knew he wasn’t. I didn’t know if I would say yes and if I didn’t say yes I wasn’t sure what I’d say instead. Against the warmth of the lights, he hadn’t seemed so terrible as they’d made him out to be. So I thought, apparently for too long, because someone else had gathered their opinion and was ready to share it. 

“You wouldn’t.” From behind Eris, Lucien was standing within earshot. Even for all I liked him that night, the way I had been drawn to him, I hadn’t noticed his arrival. The moment Eris looked back at me, however, I felt the diminishing sureness of my place in the world. I wanted Cassian to come back and I didn’t know when he would. “The only thing you have going for you besides your future as a High Lord is you never sully yourself, not even with her.”

His reaction was visceral, even I felt it. I was disgusting to him. Enough that just acknowledging me repulsed him. Though it was not the last insult he’d ever say to me, it was the only compliment I ever heard him make to his brother. 

Eris laughed, it was false, malicious now, and turned toward his brother. “Who would have thought, you of all people.”

The two walked off. I slipped behind a shrub and wiped at my eyes. No one else spoke to me. It was the only birthday I ever cried.

Lucien must have remembered just as much as I did of that night, because where he’d felt a kind of fondness it quickly dissolved into a wave of shame. I didn’t like to think about it, though his opinion seemed almost violent he’d never had such a reaction to me again. Late on I said it was our duty. When we met again we observed a century-long tradition of hating one another, but it was never so volatile as that first time. 

“I knew it,” Rhys said with such vindication it pulled us from the memory. I’d worked years and years, dodging their remarks with sincerity. They knew, they said, that secretly beneath all that hate and annoyance was something secretly fond. Morr would join in but I’d considered her more of an ally to me all this time. But what a coincidence, that she chose to reveal it only once Lucien had sat down at our table. 

“What did she say? Dear diary,” Cassian began writing on a phantom paper. “I met the most beautiful male tonight.”

“The little 100-year-old fae with a crush on a big bad male,” Rhys said.

My brother seemed too content having, apparently, nothing to share of his own embarrassment in all these years. He harbored all the arrogance in the world, believing he was invincible. How quickly he forgot of his sister who knew him just as well as he knew her. I could tell he’d realized just what I had ready to share. The very thing that this court had spent a century and a half trying to confirm.

“And what can be said for the High Lord who was caught fucking our tutor in the hall closet by our mother.”

More than the whole room I think really the world paused, before, at long last, everyone let out a roar of laughter. If there were more secrets to be shared no one said them.

***

After dinner we all stood around for a long time, finishing our wine and talking. All tensions faded with our individual triumphs and satisfactions and peace descended like mist over the hills. Every so often the thing in my chest with which Lucien was connected buzzed with emotions that the male did well of hiding. Flickers of undiagnosed sadness, pleasure, and even for some reason moments of endearment carved their way into my chest like I was receiving a second heart. I wasn’t sure what was strong enough to make its way to him, if he felt always my emotions as the echo of his own. 

That sound of the room took on that quality it does when you realize someone is close to announcing they’re going home. The night had worn itself down. I went to find Lucien, to pull him aside, but sometime between two big feelings, he’d gotten away. He wasn’t there. I scanned as unsuspecting as possible the areas I could see. He was nowhere, not in the hallway or down the stairs. I listened, tuning everyone out, but even then he remained lost. 

“Go,” Rhys said. 

I looked at my glass, half of it left and the thought of drinking it turned my stomach.“Are you scheming?” 

“Not this time.” He smiled holding his hand out for the cup to finish it. I downed the wine myself and let its bitter dry flavor burn. 

I wandered the hall first, the library downstairs could draw him in just as the one at home. How often he would peruse Helion’s. Or the other rooms he’d yet to see. I leaned against the railing, the banister cold compared to his body on mine as he helped me down the stairs. It was only when I stopped thinking that I understood. 

I strained at the process of taking each small step upward. It didn’t occur to me that I would need the help. After flying and the accidental use of magic each step took great effort. The bond tipped him off. After the first half of the stairs, he found me instead. He moved with an urgency he hadn’t had earlier, down to meet me with his arm outstretched. 

It had become chillier outside, cooler than when we’d arrived. Tonight, when all of us went to sleep, would he open that window and think of home? The blankets be up to his chin and the tip of his nose colder than all the rest, from an autumn tinted by winter. We’d just made it to the balcony, the fabric of my clothes snagging on the stone, when Lucien finally spoke. 

“There was a reason I was rarely at home,” he said, as if the tether between us relayed words just as well as feelings. I waited for his grief, his pain, to find its way to my chest, the memories of home, but they did not come. He had never wanted to stay, or else had never imagined it. Yet there was fondness just the same. “You though, this is where you should be.”

Doubt. It struck before I could confess as much myself. His face softened and I knew he felt what I’d revealed. It would have been fine if we’d been in the other place, the one that we didn’t mention. The rules of secrecy felt more secure. I knew he wouldn’t tell, I think I just wanted the easy thing. 

“You understand, yes?” 

“I do.”

The eventual fallacy of the place that made you, that you grow older, that other places make you over again and you can’t go back. I didn’t want to leave the way he wanted to leave, but there was a terrifying thought that had settled long before the night Lucien came. I belonged here, but I could belong somewhere else too. I was not like them even if we’d been made of the same thing. 

It was a faraway thought and I didn’t give it much power over me. I took comfort in the fact that no one could make me go, not anymore. Not Beron or marriage to some male across the continent. That power resided with me entirely. 

“I don’t know why it never occurred to me how well you’d do here.”

“Am I doing well?”

“You don’t think so?”

He was closer than when we’d first arrived tonight, his shoulder rubbing mine when he shrugged. He didn’t see it, not as I did, what was happening. Tonight was probably the first time he realized that they were accepting him. 

“They like you,” I said staring at my shoes. Lucien moved just a fraction closer, sidestepping, and I saw. I was waiting for that seam in the world to slip over us so I could say the last part, but this was the same universe, the same Lucien. “I like you here.”

He leaned against the railing, as I’d seen him do a hundred times before, though it was the first time he’d ever so casually done so with me. He looked just as cool as he always seemed. When I let out my breath, it was shaky. He knew it, he heard it. Yet even in that small turn, the opening of his body to my own I felt braver. If I wanted to I could close the distance so easily. No one was here to see it, no one was coming to interrupt.

“I’m sorry I haven’t asked for you.”

“Y/N—” he began but I stopped him. 

“It's rare, for me to apologize to you, so just take it.”

A deep breathy laugh rose from far in his chest. I was met with the warmth of his face as he smiled at me in a way he never had before. It wasn’t even familiar at a distance, from catching him slyly approaching females from across a room. I held my head in my palm, leaning toward him like we were in some corner of a party and no one else mattered. Not that anyone else did anyway, even if they were here. The whole of Velaris was at our fingertips, my family downstairs and likely soon approaching, and none of it mattered in the slightest.

“What did you mean when you said it didn’t have to be the same forever?”

“You asked me if things would be back to normal in the morning. I didn’t really have a vision of the future, I just knew I didn’t want to go back.”

“But we did.”

He nodded, “Yes. When we were together briefly it felt like real life had taken over. I tried to figure out a way to get back to the ease we’d found when you brought me here, but it wasn’t so easy. And—”

So he had known, he felt it, that place we’d go to. His acknowledgment of it forced its return. The universe manifested around us like a reward for the hard thing we’d already done by being brave without its certainties. 

“And?”

Laughter broke open the atmosphere from far below. Did all of Velaris seek out their friends and family on nights like tonight? A connection, running through the very foundation of this city, leaving us all tethered to each other by love. 

“I didn’t want to lose everything entirely either.”

That dynamic I’d found so entertaining all these years, if we woke the following morning and had reinvented our existence beside one another entirely I’m sure I’d miss it too. I didn’t even consider it, that it was something we could lose.

“I don’t know if it's in our nature to be at peace and agreeable too long with each other.”

“I’ve worked as much out.”

“What gave it away?”

“The garden.”

A breeze folded up over the city and pushed my hair over my shoulders. I shivered at its delivery. Lucien noticed with an instinct that I didn’t want to call primal. It would diminish the intention of it, that he had done so with good manners and care. He pulled me against his body and turned us away so that he blocked most of the wind.

“Do you know now, how you’d want things to be different?” I asked. 

“Mostly.”

“You’ll visit me then?”

“Yes.”

“And?” I said. We were guessing, terrified and guessing all of the time. He’d become better at knowing what I meant and I was beginning to understand him again in small ways, but we were both equally unsure. No doubt we were equally afraid.

“You’ll laugh.” His palm met my cheek. His large hand spread across my face leaving nothing but warmth. The fire in him, in his blood, made sure to chase away the cold.

“I won’t. I promise,” I said, meeting his softness with my own. “Not when you managed to spare me after you learned of my crush.”

I expected to find softness on his features but instead, he looked more stern, stoic as usual. He almost even looked confused, but he relaxed quickly and he brushed the hair from my face. I had no entry to his mind, no free reign, to know what occupied his thoughts so fully. Even if I did, however, I wouldn’t use it. So instead I waited to see if he would reveal it on his own. 

“Why should I, when I only just admitted I’d always found you beautiful.”

My heart pressed against my ribcage like Lucien had pulled at it. Always. Not now, or 50 years ago, always always always. Even when he’d said what he’d said to Eris about me, he thought it then and he thought it now. He wasn’t being kind to me because I was pretty again, because I’d always been pretty. 

“I never thought…” I began, but the words ceased to exist. I leaned my forehead into his chest like the warmth would revive my mind as the water had that afternoon to my body. 

“Because I wouldn’t let you.”

 For the first time in all my life, I felt afraid of what would happen if I looked at him the way he had at me. I wanted to hide exactly nothing, not the blush at my cheeks or the question in my brow. And it scared me, the intensity with which I wanted to see him and be seen in return because I knew that we would. It would be mutual now, in a way that had once only belonged to him. There was no undoing it if I lifted my head. So I did. 

“How much time have we wasted?” I asked, unsure of what I really meant by it entirely. Lucien thought on it, refusing to answer right away.

“Just enough I should think.”

“I don’t wish to rush.”

“With 50 years behind us…” Lucien said, his eyes looking at my lips. I let mine look at his for the first time in many years. That first night I’d seen him I noticed them. He didn’t even glance, didn’t even look in my direction or notice me until he found me with Eris. I’d felt so young, so childish, wanting to be under his gaze. Now I was no different, or entirely different. I wanted to know what they felt like, if they too were warm. 

“And what about real life?” I asked.

“What about it?”

“When things return to normal, as they will, you'll feel differently.”

“And?”

“And I will be left to want what I have never wanted before.”

Lucien smiled, there was a flicker of amusement but his brows mirrored the confusion mine had only just displayed. I knew that our real life was too close, always waiting to take us back to the places where we existed, where these things shared did not reign or govern anything.

“How do you mean?” He said.

“Every night since you came to my room I’ve held my own hands to fall asleep.”

If it weren’t for the bond I’d have felt I’d said something wrong, something that made him sad or hurt his feelings by the way his face suddenly held no emotion at all. Instead, though he let go of me, pulled away, and braced himself against the railing looking out at the city. I’d have asked why, would have acted out, had the sound of approaching laughter not reached me first. A moment later everyone was up on the terrace with us. 

“Shall we?” Cassian said with a smile as he grabbed my shoulder. This interruption was far less welcome. I couldn’t exactly say what or how Cassian knew but he seemed to be aware of just what was being interrupted. I hoped one day to return the favor. I nodded, repeating the same routine amusement I had when Lucien had stood awkwardly with Rhys outside the townhouse before Cassian lifted me into his arms and we were gone. 

At home, just as the house quieted and I had lifted the covers to my bed I heard a soft knock at the door. I almost would have thought it was the floorboards and windows settling but I checked anyway. Opening the door, the moonlight falling in sheets behind me, I saw in its glow Lucien. He had kept the stony face he’d taken on at the house of wind, hiding what down the bond I could still feel. In the faint light I saw it now, his cheeks flushed pink. In my chest too, I felt the embers of something like attraction. I would have gone to get a sweater, asked him to wait so I might cover up, had he not spoken first. 

“Give me your hand.” 

Letting go of the door forced it open more and I knew now he saw me even more clearly, but I tried not to care. I tried to remind myself what had already been revealed. I gave him my hand and he took it gently, like he was scared even of being too hard and was overcompensating by barely holding on at all. He flipped it over in his, exposing the palm, and raised it just enough so he could bow his head and meet my skin with his lips. I watched him linger, felt the warmth along the sensitive skin, and tried to memorize how his mouth felt so I could try, tonight, to recreate the touch in other places. 

“What was that for?” I said as he pulled away and let go.

“To give you a hunger I could satisfy.” 

[siriuslychessi]

For @liiilyevans Thank you for being so patient.

Overdue gift from the Potterverse Gift Exchange.

Prompt: Being parents is hard, let alone being parents at Christmas. Just come cute fluff. Have fun with it :) 

AO3 || FF

How to not kill your husband: A Guide in Patience

James was doing too much, again. 

She knew that he was adorable and it came from the best part of him, but it was too much too soon, and in all her honest self she couldn’t see why I’d matter. Harry barely noticed anything that didn’t involve his toys and when one of them left the room. 

Yet, James was hanging another garland.

The house already looked like Santa threw up in it and left behind all decorations that clashed and mashed: golden tinsel, all colour lights on the tree, and the gleaming deers, rats, dogs and wolves going around and about the living room. 

She wanted to strangle her husband and bolt out the door, because she wasn’t about to clean two messes: decorations and crime scene. 

Lily couldn’t blame James for her foul mood, it wasn’t his fault, well not entirely. 

Harry had been up most of the night, poor thing was teething and he could only communicate through screaming and crying. James had tried to help with the night watch, trying to distract Harry. Unfortunately Harry only wanted mummy. 

Which made James try to make up for it somehow and developed in the predicament they were in. 

Everything felt too loud, visually and audibly, and Lily had come up with the third plan of the morning on how to shove ornaments up James’ throat if he started singing Merry Hippogryphs one more time. Feeling half bad that she had murderous intentions towards her husband.

Lily had tried to retrieve towards the kitchen, which was a terrible idea as on top of the decorations, James was making biscuits and cake, and all sorts of things that made her little space on the table feel crowded as well. 

Of course James wasn’t oblivious to his wife, he had made sure to leave her favourite nook by the window untouched, just yet, so she could relax and just rest with a cuppa in her hands. 

He really thought Lily would stay in bed a little longer, what he forgot was to soundproof their room as he had done with Harry’s and that his ruckus was all Lily could hear. 

In James’ mind he was just compensating for the fact that he was not around as much lately. He and Sirius had a lead, and with the Order spy they tried not to involve too many people. That left Lily with Harry on most occasions and he felt he needed to fix that somehow, every little detail counted. 

Today it was Christmas decorations. 

James knew that Harry was too little to understand what this meant, but it was their first Christmas as a family, some idiotic notion that it will set the tone for the ones to come. He wished he could go all out, have a party like his parents used to, invite all their friends and extended family, with all the decorations and pastries and meals.To keep traditions living, his and Lily’s. But even with Harry, their family seemed to be getting smaller instead of bigger, and some things seemed to be slipping through.

Something else that James wished to change. 

He was about to double check his creation when Harry started crying. 

Poor guy just woke up cranky and they could hear him from the other side of the house. 

James saw his wife, she was a bit pale, and was nursing a cuppa, with a frown set on her face. Which changed to a tired sigh knowing that she would need to deal with the child (on top of the man child she married). 

No one would ever believe that Lily didn’t love her child, much less James, but it took that much to notice the dark circles below her eyes, and how pale her skin was. Her movements were slow, like trying not to bump into things. He remembered that feeling, being so tired that your brain just made you extra clumsy. 

I made James feel extra guilty for not helping more. Just as the redhead was about to stand up, James quickly kissed the top of her head and murmured, “I’ll get him,” before running upstairs. 

That simple gesture brought all the warmth and love to the surface, letting the bitterness of a sleepless night mellow a bit, and Lily's murderous thoughts quiet. 

She could hear James from the spell, the hearing charm they had on Harry’s room, as he arrived. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed,” James's teasing voice sounded, making the little guy cry harder. 

Lily wasn’t proud to admit that a little bit of satisfaction was felt when things didn’t go smoothly with Harry. She still adored James, and hated that her son was crying, but it made her feel like Harry didn’t particularly love crying only to her face. It made her feel like a terrible mother to not be able to soothe her baby, and lately it felt that James had the magic touch (no pun intended).

It also felt like instant karma for waking her up at an ungodly hour with the movement and decoration spree. She wasn’t proud to feel that kind of satisfaction but no one said Lily Potter was perfect. 

“Come on, lad. Don’t be cross, we are going to make you feel better.” Lily heard James console Harry, figuring he picked him up from the crib and was bouncing him like he used to. Walking around the nursery as he spoke to the little guy. 

Harry was still a little fuzzy yet Lily took comfort in the little noises that she heard from Harry’s room: She heard James hum the little song that always made Harry giggle, the poor thing still was crying, not as hard, but some whining remained, as he listened to James’ singing. 

It was odd how James seemed to be comforting Lily as much as Harry. 

“Are your teeth feeling achek-y?” James kept talking to Harry, which made Lily close her eyes and listen closely, relaxing the tension on her shoulders little by little. She could hear the taps of James’ steps coming from the ceiling as he paced around trying to get Harry to calm down for a bit. “There you go, that must make you feel better.”

Harry grew almost quiet after that, she could still hear him muted babble things back to James, he wasn’t fuzzing anymore, and she figured that James used a potion to make the teething experience something less traumatic for them all, as well as giving Harry his bib. 

The warmth took Lily by surprise, as it always did. She should be used to it by now, but the little things always sneaked up on you. She was ready to kill James moments ago, viciously murder him; but the way he cared for them, their little family, was exactly the reason she loved James Potter so much. 

It also infuriated her.

It was exactly the same as when they were at Hogwarts, James did this balancing act between being the most annoying person around, to being the most thoughtful. It always caught her out of guard, like her feelings were always a turmoil; between thinking he was an abusive toerag and the most attentive person ever existing. 

It made her doubt her heart for so long. 

But James showed his true colours when he wasn’t trying to impress her, or anyone else. When it was all quiet and thought no one was paying attention. 

Like the way he always helped Peter with his History homework because it seemed that he always kept falling asleep in class (not that Lily could blame him). Or how he made sure Mary always had someone to go from one class to the other after Mulciber’s incident. Lily didn’t know that it was him that coordinated everyone, just to make Mary feel safer, not until the end of the year when Lily pointed out how lovely it was for the whole Gryffindor tower to do that for her.

How he always made sure that Remus’ favourite chair in the common room would be empty after the full moon, and how Marlene kept raving how great of a friend he was even when Sirius was being an ass to her.

Lily hated not to have control on how fast and steady she fell in love with James' great heart. Because she was really hating the decorations, and she was almost about to commit murder, but the way he spoke to their son, and how calm and steady he looked bringing him down from his room made it all go away. All the noise, and the lights, and the terrible headache from not sleeping. 

“Now, we need to be nice to mummy, she is about to bite daddy’s head off.” James said with a tease in his tone, smirking knowingly at his wife. “How about we try to get you some bananas eh? Think you might like those?”

The question earned a babble from Harry and a chuckle from Lily, “I think there are some smashed in the back of the fridge.” she replied behind a smile, as she saw her two favourite people enter the kitchen.

“What about a stronger cuppa for mummy? Maybe an Irish coffee?” James teased on the other end of the house as Lily took her wand out. 

“Bribing me with liquor so I don’t hex your arse?” she joked back, moving some clashing decorations from one place on the mantle, so they could be more evenly distributed. If she left it like that it would drive her insane for the rest of her Christmas. 

James laughed, making Harry complain that he wasn’t paying attention to his feeding, which knowing James he was moving too much, too fast, for the little guy’s mouth to catch the meal. “I need to use all my tricks, but I know you’ll hex me whenever you feel like it, Mrs Potter.” 

Lily rolled her eyes at the empty living room, “I shouldn’t have changed my last name, I should have kept it Evans, Harry Evans has a nice ring to it.” she was bluffing, there was no meanness to her voice, no sharp edges, just tiredness. 

Yet she heard the loud dramatic gasp her husband made, “How can you do that! He has the Potter mane!” 

Lily entered the kitchen and kissed the top of Harry’s messy hair, “And I hope that’s the only bad trait that he inherits from you, I don’t think my sanity would take the letters from Minerva.”

“Fair enough.” James tried to feed Harry again, but the little one just kept shaking his head avoiding the spoon, trying to grab some of the biscuit batter from the table. “I don’t think you’re old enough for those yet wee bairn.” he put the batter farther away and tried to feed Harry once more, earning a quiver from Harry’s lower lip, meaning he was about to cry again. “Oh no, no, we just got on good terms.” 

Lily had sat down and poured herself a cuppa, she was seeing James struggle with feeding little Harry, and all she could do was chuckled. She was exhausted, she almost wanted to kill her husband, but it was moments like these ones that made it all worth it, just when her heart ruled over her tired body and she could just feel the love in the room, and around her family. 

However, James wasn’t out of the woods just yet, she would just let him struggle a little bit before joining the pursuit in finding something else that Harry might like for breakfast. 

[darsynia]

Just Right | Ch 4

(Steve Rogers x F!Reader, post-Ultron Multichapter)

Summary:

You’ve been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team– with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don’t want just any version of Steve Rogers– you want the one you’ve been pining for all this time.

Length: 3,456

FIC MASTERLIST | LAST CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Want to be tagged on this or any other Steve fic? Please ask! @ronearoundblindly @munstysmind @tiny-anne @themaradaniels @starryeyes2000 @chickensarentcheap

Excerpt:

“He’s me, ‘Dine. He’d never dream of revealing something like that. I was thinking about it-- I think the only reason he went on the mission is because it happened for them already. It’s hard to resist the comparisons.” He lifts his eyebrows to see if you want him to take your tray, and you nod.

“How is that going?” you ask carefully.

Steve immediately looks at the ceiling, then over at the window, before finally glancing your way, letting out a little sigh. “Can someone be better at being you than you are?”

You let some of how you feel about him show, since you’re practically bursting with it anyway. “No, but you can know yourself well enough to recognize that you and he are working on different things, and they don’t overlap.”

He’d been priming to stand up, but your words physically send Steve back in his chair. The look is back, the one you wish you could bottle up and overdose with, on nights when you talk with your married friends.

“I-- That really helps. Thank you.”

Chapter Four

You don’t change clothes for lunch; it’s only when you walk into the cafeteria area that you realize this could be very loosely construed as a date-- but by then it’s too late, because Steve’s seen you and he waves you over to the smaller table by the wall.

“I waited, hope you don’t mind. Natasha told me it’s very rude to set things up so that the woman is eating when the man isn’t.”

Does that make this a date? your traitorous brain pushes you to ask as the two of you make your way over to get food. You could probably phrase it in a way that gives you cover if his reaction is negative-- but you just can’t do it. Instead, you ask him about the stuff that didn’t make it into Natasha’s rather clinical report.

He talks about the secrecy the government had asked them to employ, how they’d worn sunglasses and ball caps to get to the site, their gear stowed away in backpacks.

“Tony took one look at the group of us and went back into the Quinjet. He came out wearing a leather jacket, reflective sunglasses, and a motorcycle helmet. Said we all looked like a ‘tourist group’ of undercover FBI agents!”

You laugh. “Glad he put it to good use, even if it wasn’t the one I’d intended.”

He looks down and smiles at his sandwich, shaking his head a little bit. “I should have known you were the one who put that in there.”

“Hey, stashing an extra helmet is a no brainer, pun intended! Not everyone is a super soldier, but all of you sure love your motorcycles.”

“You’ll be happy to know we avoided self-destructive behavior as much as possible, this trip. The NRC guys were very careful, only let Stark go into certain areas.”

“Well,” you say, pointing at him with a celery stick. “Based on Howard’s notes you would have been fine, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Howard Stark?” Steve asks, voice going quiet.

“Yeah. I mean, he was heavily involved in the serum development, and man, was he a note-taker!” Something about the look on Steve’s face hits you. “Did… did no one ever tell you about that? There are notebooks’ worth of--”

“No,” he says, posture straightening. “No one said anything.”

Now you feel guilty and indignant on his behalf, all at once. “They’re all scanned in, I bet you have access? I’m not sure anyone thought to tell you, sadly enough. Either that or they just assumed you knew.” You fumble around for your phone, but he stretches out a hand into your line of sight in that way he has, gentler than using his voice. It’s a leadership thing, the knowledge that a command to stop means something different when you’re both a friend and a team leader. You’ve always loved that about him.

“I’ll check it out. Thank you.”

You nod, offer the olive branch of a redirect back to the original conversation. “So, was Stark able to find the source of the radiation?”

“Yeah, flew it right to the disposal site. Probably saved days worth of decontamination work. Problem was, the HYDRA base-- well, you saw the report.”

“Booby traps, Tony Stark’s favorite.”

He wheeze-coughs through the sip he’d been taking. “Yeah, and his work defusing them was the lynchpin of the whole operation. He’ll be insufferable for days.”

“How will we be able to tell the difference?” It’s a joke, but after the two of you share a chuckle, Steve’s expression turns serious.

“Yeah, about that…”

“Oh, I walked right into that one.”

“Humor me? It’s been a strange experience, having a doppelganger. You seem like one of the only people who can instantly see the difference, so when you didn’t--” He breaks off and doesn’t continue.

You shrug. “It’s honestly just instinct? Or maybe I’m hypersensitive to hair length. Got to make sure that helmet fits you without slippage!”

Steve finishes off the last bite of his sandwich and regards you thoughtfully. It’s familiar (still thrilling, though), and you shove away the thoughts that everything you’ve been saying and doing here could have just as easily been done as a function of your job. You suddenly wish you could change the subject, but you know Steve. He’s wrestling with something. You suspect you’re one of the only people who see the differences between him and Gold Steve enough to help.

“He won’t say anything about what he may have gone through-- and I wouldn’t ask,” Steve says quickly. “It does feel like he’s more… maybe ‘comfortable’ is the word? It’s hard not to worry that it’s from some kind of shared trauma.”

“A shared trauma you’d avoid, if only you knew it was coming?” you guess gently.

Steve’s look of relief carries with it an undercurrent of gratitude that could very easily be tuned to the romantic. After spending hours of your life syncing yourself to his resonance, your body can’t help but respond, quickening your breathing and heating your blood.

“He’s me, ‘Dine. He’d never dream of revealing something like that. I was thinking about it-- I think the only reason he went on the mission is because it happened for them already. It’s hard to resist the comparisons.” He lifts his eyebrows to see if you want him to take your tray, and you nod.

“How is that going?” you ask carefully.

Steve immediately looks at the ceiling, then over at the window, before finally glancing your way, letting out a little sigh. “Can someone be better at being you than you are?”

You let some of how you feel about him show, since you’re practically bursting with it anyway. “No, but you can know yourself well enough to recognize that you and he are working on different things, and they don’t overlap.”

He’d been priming to stand up, but your words physically send Steve back in his chair. The look is back, the one you wish you could bottle up and overdose with, on nights when you talk with your married friends.

“I-- That really helps. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you say, and mean it.

When you’re finished with your work for the day, something in you just cannot stand to be indoors any longer. That doesn’t mean you’re going to go for a run or anything, but a walk among green things is a necessity. You head straight for the woods when you get outside, aiming for a particular clearing that’s a favorite, the one with a tree that angles just so, perfect for leaning against and thinking.

It had been a gamble to move into the Avengers Compound, because it cut you off in some ways from your friends in the city. Not everyone who works there lives on-site, it’s not required-- and you didn’t do it just because it’s where Steve lives. After all, he’s been looking for months for a place in Brooklyn, so he could move out at any point. He refuses to let anyone help (and you suspect that Stark actually has a place rented or bought for him and is just looking for the right way to trick Steve into living there), but you’re sure it’s only a matter of time.

The lunch today has you all twisted up in knots, even hours later. On one hand, you’re elated that he’d invited you to lunch at all, that you got his full attention for such an extended period of time-- especially in such a relaxed, no-pressure setting. On another, it was… more of the same, from him. 

You let out a long, frustrated sigh. Meeting Gold Steve has made you dissatisfied with the status quo, there’s no other way to put it. Without his attentive interest, you’d have seen your lunch with your universe’s Steve Rogers as one of the most exciting events of your tenure here.

“That’s a weary sound,” a voice says. Speak of the devil…

“Haven’t they sent you back yet?” you quip, mostly kidding. You’re vulnerable and combative right now, and if you can chase Gold Steve away, you really ought to.

He walks over into your line of sight and shoulders up against a tree, one hand in his pocket. “Tony’s been in the lab since last night, or so FRIDAY says. A couple more hours and Natasha’s planning to break in to give him a care package of food and fresh coffee.”

“That’s… actually pretty encouraging.” Your back has started to hurt, but if you stand up to leave, you know he’ll offer to accompany you, and your universe’s Steve has seemed a little… protective of you, when Gold Steve is around. 

That thought actually pisses you off, because the word your mind is dancing around is ‘jealousy,’ and in order for there to be jealousy, there need to be feelings. You’re pretty sure that’s not what’s going on.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you need to talk something out.”

“You’re probably simultaneously the best and the worst person to do that with right now,” you groan.

“It’s ‘other me’ related?”

You close your eyes and scrunch up your face in regret. “Pretend I didn’t say anything?”

“And squander your chance to figure him out?” Gold Steve actually makes a ‘tsk’ noise.

“You don’t really mean that,” you say with your eyes still closed. “Even if you did, there’s no figuring. There’s just me reading into things.” You suspect he’s trying to learn more about his counterpart, so you decide to chase him away with this and then maybe dig a hole to fling yourself into until he goes back home. “He’s had lunch with any number of other people, and it’s just the way you look at me that made me mix the two of you up when he was jog--” 

You straighten up. If Stark’s really on the verge of a breakthrough, this might be your last chance to ask Gold Steve the thing that’s been nagging at you for weeks.

If you’re burning bridges, then you might as well light them up.

“What is with that, anyway? You know that’s how I knew, right? The way you look at me.” Most of your rational brain is in revolt, but you’re tired. If this avatar of the person you love can’t explain to you how to trigger the same reaction in your version, then you’re going to demand that he tell you what makes him different. He’s upended your neatly compartmentalized life, it’s the least he can do. And once he has, he’ll probably stop seeking you out, and you can start the process of returning to normal.

He looks guilty.

“I wasn’t going to--” Gold Steve presses his lips together. “I’m not trying to change anything,” he says, and it sounds more like he’s trying to persuade himself than you. “After I found out Bucky was alive, learned some of what he’d gone through, someone was there for me, and I fell really hard.” 

His wry smile is sad, and you feel a tiny prickle of alarm. It doesn’t feel like this is going to be a happy story.

He continues, “At the time, I didn’t feel like I knew enough about this decade, this century. I needed time. And the nature of the job, you know, the world always needs saving, so I wasn’t worried. I figured I had time. And then we lost-- she was gone.” 

Gold Steve stops and takes a breath. He’s not looking at you, and you don’t blame him. It seems like if he did, he might just lose the tenuous grip he has on his emotions. You can barely breathe just listening to him.

“I really regret that. I never took that chance-- and, I’d love to think we’d have made it work, that she’d have fallen for me just as hard-- but now I’ll never know. I’ll never know what it would’ve been like to wake up next to each other. To help her through the tough times, to maybe be the last loving thought on her mind, before the end.” He looks directly at you, and you can see it, the bone-deep regret, the determination to do whatever he can to prevent that kind of heartache. “Those days afterwards, they taught me you have to speak up, let people know what they mean to you. I can’t let the fear of letting someone down leave them to die alone. I told myself I had to use that horrible day to be better, to--” he lets out a tiny chuckle, like he’s reliving a bittersweet memory. “To wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“That’s beautiful,” you whisper. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

“Me too.”

Gold Steve wasn’t at dinner, but you didn’t blame him at all. You’d sat there trying to socialize with his words hanging around your heart until the burden was too heavy, and you’d excused yourself after barely eating anything. Now it’s two in the morning and you’re ravenous, and you only have yourself to blame.

You make yourself some cereal, a comfort food from your childhood, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it in the large, dark cafeteria, nor do you want to put the overhead lights on. Instead, you steal away with it to the rec room, even though it’s probably not allowed in there. If FRIDAY wants to tell on you, so be it.

It isn’t until you’re happily settling into the comfiest chair that you see you’re not alone.

“Jeez, Tony, are you okay?”

“Finally! Pay up,” he says triumphantly from his place on the couch. You swear for a solid twenty seconds; for months you’d avoided using his given name after he’d teased you for using Natasha’s first, telling him smugly that you’d rather pay him $50 than give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll pay you in the morning, but I think it’s cheating to stay up for forty some hours just for a lousy fifty bucks. I guess eccentric billionaire is as eccentric billionaire does,” you sniff. Inwardly, you’re mad that you’d forgotten Tony likes the rec room couch better than the guest beds.

“Fifty bucks and the solution to sending the Rog-elgänger back,” Tony says, adding quickly, “I think. I came in here to get a few winks and see if I still feel like a genius when I wake up.”

“And?”

“Fatal flaw,” he grins. “I don’t know what it’s like not to feel like a genius.”

“Well, run it by me, I’ll give you my honest, non-genius opinion.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to count yourself out of this equation, Brigandine. You’re a big part of how I figured it out,” Tony shocks you by saying. “Keep eating, don't let it get soggy. Okay.” He slaps a hand down on his right thigh. “Say this is our universe, and this--” Tony slaps his other hand down on his left thigh; “--is IMPOS-Steve’s universe. He’s said there’s no Avengers Compound over there, but he still walked out into the room when he showed up, right? Like there was a door in the wall?”

You’re still giggling from a minute back. “Only you would use your lap to symbolize the multiverse! But yes, it was like he’d just walked through a door.”

Tony ignores your gibe, caught up in his explanation. “That means it’s not a one-to-one transfer-- whatever chose that place in space-time, it’s not based on where he was when he left. Which is useful only up to a point, because to send him back, I have to do the same thing. With me so far?”

You nod, your mouth full.

“Not long after the attack on New York I got to thinking about how the Chitauri were able to connect from so far a distance. I mean, yeah, wormhole, but I figured there had to be more to it than that. I thought, what if there was something that was like DNA, but it was readable without having to look into a person’s cells. A molecular imprint, like your own personal resonant frequency.”

You’re completely fascinated. “The same way a big building or a bridge has a specific frequency, only unique?”

“Not at all, and yes,” Tony says. “It doesn’t really matter what it is exactly, just that it exists. The problem is figuring out how to detect it, so I went looking for Vision. The two of us did some testing--” He pauses for an extended, satisfying-looking yawn, scratches his forehead, and tries to remember where he was.

“Some testing?” you prompt.

“A lot of testing, but yes. I had set this aside way back when because there was no way to really test the theory--”

“I’m sorry, what theory? Connection over long distances?”

“Well, yes, but connection across universes, too. I mean, the worst possible nightmare, right? With the mind stone and access to every dimension, Loki might have had the largest army ever. An infinite army.”

There’s something about the expression on Tony’s face, like maybe he’d actually set this concept aside because it was the only way he could sleep. He shakes himself a little bit, sees you’re sitting there, and apparently, that’s enough to remind him of where he is in his explanation.

“Right. Faux-gers,” Tony says, grinning. Your stomach clenches in a not wholly uncomfortable way at the idea that your boss associates you with Steve enough to put him back on track like that.

“I think what you’re really lying awake doing is coming up with those,” you tease.

“You know it. Anyway, you’d think there’s no way to test it, right? You’d have to have two versions of the exact same person. Yes, exactly!” Tony says at your spark of realization. He absurdly makes two little ‘people’ out of the first and second fingers of each hand, and stands them up on his thighs, harking back to his ‘lap dimensions.’ “Vision was able to confirm it. Both Steves have the same resonance.” He sighs and lets his hands drop. “Another breakthrough I can’t win a Nobel for.”

You still feel like you’re right on the edge of understanding, and from the yawn Tony just fought through, he’s running out of coherent consciousness. “That’s great, but how does that send him back, exactly?”

“Because all I have to do is tune the thing I haven’t quite invented yet to the resonance of one of the other Avengers. That way I can feel confident I’m sending Pure Imitation Vanilla back safely, instead of in the middle of the concrete foundation for the Bezos Tower or something. And now I want cookies.”

You are taken by a yawn of your own, and Tony leans over and rescues your mostly-empty bowl before it falls off of your lap. Something he said when you first started talking is important, but you can’t remember what it is--

“I might send Nat to trick him into telling us how much farther along he is than we are,” Tony says, lifting up your spoon, making a terrible face, and setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “He tried to play it off, but there were times on that mission that he was definitely steering us away from some nasty shit.”

That confirms your similar hunch. “How far ahead do you think he is?”

“Very,” is the surprising answer. “Which brings me back to your role in all of this. Brigandine, I’m sorry to say, but I think you’re dead.”

You blink at Tony. “Dead? I figured I just wasn’t born in his--”

“Ah, but that wouldn’t work.” He pops his finger figurines back up on his lap, and you groan. “They have to match, remember?”

“Couldn’t the matching resonance thing have been Sam?” you protest. A film of unreality is forming across your skin, dusting up goosebumps and an accompanying chill.

“I don’t think so. You said he seemed pleased to see you, surprised to see the complex. What if something happened? Something bad?” Tony leans over. “Something preventable? If the resonance is tethered to a person instead of a timeframe, how do you ensure you arrive before the bad thing happened?”

“You choose someone who shouldn’t be alive,” you breathe, shaken. “But he’s been here for weeks! If something’s coming, wouldn’t he have said something by now?”

“Not if it’s a ways off. Not if he can’t go back. This is Steve Rogers, ‘Dine. His morals have morals. If we can’t send him back, he doesn’t need to say anything and change other things by accident. He just has to steer us away from the dragons at the edge of the map.”

Next chapter

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 28/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

He expects that at any moment he’ll wake up in his bed back in King of Prussia. Within minutes, this bizarre vivid dream will begin to fade away, and by the time he joins Diana and Frenchie in the kitchen, he’ll have forgotten it altogether. It’s just so goddamn surreal, there’s no way that any of this is actually happening. 

They drive in seemingly endless loops, passing by the same intersections over and over to be sure they aren’t being followed. The woman, Dana, stares out the passenger side window for the entire ride. This area of DC doesn’t offer much in the way of a view, and he has the distinct feeling that she’s avoiding the possibility that they’ll make eye contact. 

Truth be told, he’s grateful for it. Every time her icy blue eyes lock with his, he feels an overwhelming sense of protectiveness he can’t explain. Perhaps it’s because of the state she was in when he first met her: distressed and lost. Maybe that interaction sowed in him the desire to keep her safe. But there’s something more than protectiveness that catches him off guard, making him feel guilty and uncomfortable. It was a simmering distraction until he was forced into the Gunmen’s makeshift bunker with her. Until he could smell her, until his body inadvertently collided with hers and he felt the featherweight press of her skin against his: desire. She’s beautiful, of course, but he crosses paths with beautiful women all the time and doesn’t feel this magnetic pull, this primal urge to reach out and touch her. It only adds to his feelings of confliction and confusion, and his distress regarding what Diana must be thinking right now. 

The van stops and he realizes they must have arrived, though the nondescript apartment building they’re parked in front of doesn’t exactly match his mental image of what a safehouse would look like. Dana bids Langly goodnight and exits the van, and Mulder follows behind her with a small duffel bag full of Byers’ clothes slung over his shoulder. She gives him only a quick glance to confirm that he’s following, and for the rest of their ingress she keeps her head down and doesn’t speak. She leads him to a door on the highest floor of the building and, once they both pass through, locks several deadbolts and sets an alarm, then lets out a relieved sigh. 

“Here we are,” she says uncomfortably, and he follows her down a small hallway into an open concept living room and kitchen. “The bathroom and bedroom are right over there,” she tells him, indicating two doors down another short hallway. “There are extra toothbrushes and other toiletries under the sink.”

He nods and pokes around a bit, ducking his head into the bedroom and bathroom before stashing his bag in a corner of the living room. His stomach growls loudly and he hears her chuckle, then looks over to see a soft smile on her mouth. He feels that tug, that heaviness in his groin, and he looks away. 

“There’s a frozen lasagna in the freezer,” she tells him. “I didn’t want to make it for myself because I’d end up wasting most of it, but if you’re hungry I can pop it in the oven.”

“Sure,” he says, trying not to sound too eager. 

At the mention of food, his stomach lets out another loud rumble and she smiles again. Part of him wishes she’d stop, and part of him wants to do any and everything imaginable to make her smile again and again. 

He steps out onto the balcony while she puts the lasagna in, taking in the sunset-soaked view of the city. It’s the first chance he’s had to be alone with his thoughts since meeting up with Dana and the Gunmen at the diner, and they collide in a flurry of emotion that thickens his throat. The only thing he knows for certain is that someone put a chip in his neck. As to who, or when, or why, each theory is more upsetting than the last. That his life might not be his own, that he could be the victim of something so nefarious and invasive, that the people who did this are likely actively searching for him, are all terrifying concepts. 

But the most distressing is the idea that Diana has something to do with this. They were supposed to drive home together today. She was going to take him to the Cryptologic Museum. They’ve certainly had their difficulties, and she can be a bit harsh at times, but she would never intentionally hurt him. She would never lie to him unless she felt it was absolutely necessary for his physical or emotional safety. She wants the best for him. They made vows. It just doesn’t add up, and the only conclusion to draw is that Dana was misinformed. Or, potentially, she is the one who is lying. 

He turns to look through the window into the apartment and finds her seated at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, watching him. She quickly turns away, busying herself with her wine glass and swirling the blood-red liquid round and round. His years of experience as a therapist have given him an uncanny ability to read people and detect their motivations, and his read on her is that she’s being genuine. He also knows, however, that people who are suffering delusions believe them to be real. But she said there would be a chip in his neck, and there was. He watched her remove it and is confident that there was no sleight of hand involved. After mulling it all over, he’s no closer to understanding what’s happening to him than he was when he started. 

There is a soft rap on the door and he turns to see Dana standing on the other side of the glass. “The lasagna is ready,” she mouths, her voice muffled. 

They sit side-by-side at the breakfast bar, and he enthusiastically accepts and then speedily drains the glass of wine she offers him. Next he devours a generous square of lasagna, feeling her eyes on him the entire time. His hunger sated, he serves himself another glass of wine and a half-portion of lasagna, and they are quiet for a few minutes. 

“Thank you,” he says, giving her a quick glance. “I was starving.” 

“I can tell,” she says lightly, and he manages to resist looking again just for the pleasure of seeing the smile he hears in her voice. 

“So, how is this supposed to work?” he asks, slicing off a bite of lasagna with the edge of his fork. “I just wake up tomorrow and remember my old life or something?”

He knows that his tone isn’t especially kind, and hopes that she doesn’t take it personally. 

“Not quite,” she answers. “My experience was a bit different because I had amnesia, so removing my chip didn’t cause me to forget anything.”

“Why’s that? Why was it different for you?”

He looks at her in little glances, enough to satisfy social convention and not come across as rude, but not enough to invite any lingering eye contact. She shrugs and pushes her lasagna around on her plate. He’s not sure that she’s actually taken a bite since they sat down. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But Cal did have very detailed memories of seemingly every moment of our lives picking up from just about the place that my memory stopped, and removing his chip had the effect of…deleting them, I suppose.”

“That’s your husband? Cal?” he clarifies. 

“Calvin, yes,” she confirms. “He believed himself to be my husband, as did my mother and everyone else we knew.”

“So how do you know that he wasn’t? Or isn’t?” Mulder asks, just a bit of a challenge in his voice. 

She doesn’t answer, and after a beat he looks up at her. She looks wounded, and he realizes that he’s offended her. 

“I just knew,” she says, her voice tight. “Or I suspected, anyway. It’s hard to explain.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles around a mouthful. “So, how long did it take for Calvin to notice a difference after you removed the chip?” he asks, redirecting the conversation. 

“About ten hours or so, I think,” she says with a sigh. “But we’d gone to bed, so I can’t be sure if it’s the lapse in time or sleeping that was more impactful. When he woke up, he told me something felt off. As the morning progressed, he realized that he no longer remembered things he’d known just the day prior. And then he…he smelled something that made him recall a memory.”

She’s staring off into some middle space, recalling a memory of her own. 

“And what about you? You remember everything now, back to 1992?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “There’s a lot that I still don’t remember. My impression is that there has to be some kind of trigger for the memory—it won’t just reappear. For me, songs and places have brought up memories.” She pauses, lifting her head and flicking her eyes to his and then quickly away. “And people,” she adds. 

“Me?”

Another flick of eye contact, like she’s just as afraid to let it linger as he is. 

“Yes,” she says softly, then swallows. “But I don’t remember much of anything about the work that we—that I did, nor anything about my family. I know that both my father and my older sister died during the period of time I have no memory of, and I don’t yet have any recollection of that. Not to say that I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, and without thinking he reaches out and lays his hand over the top of hers on the counter. 

She sucks in a breath and freezes, her eyes locked on his hand. He feels heat in the space between their skin, something electric and buzzing. Carefully, he pulls his hand back so as not to give the impression that he’s snatching it away. 

“It’s getting late,” she says, avoiding his eye as she stands and clears their plates. “You can take the bedroom. I haven’t slept on the sheets.”

“No,” he objects sharply, and she gives him a look. “You take the bedroom. I don’t want to put you out.”

“You aren’t,” she tells him. “I’m more comfortable on the couch. It’s my preference.”

He concedes and carries his duffel bag into the bedroom, then finds toothpaste and a toothbrush under the bathroom sink. After he’s changed into a set of Byers’ sweats and a t-shirt, which fit him quite well, he listens to the pad of her feet up and down the hall as she completes her own bedtime routine, and when she finally settles he closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep. 

He wonders what Diana is doing, what she thinks. Does she think that he’s been taken against his will? That he’s been in a vehicle accident? That he left her? His car is still sitting near the diner so far as he knows, and she could come to any number of conclusions when it’s eventually towed and identified as his. If nothing comes of all this, if it turns out to be one big hoax, she’ll never forgive him. He’s surprised to find just a sliver of relief in the idea. A fresh start is a fresh start, no matter how it’s obtained. 

He hears the soft notes of distant music, something melodic with a plucky bass guitar. A few minutes later, he detects the distinct sound of a wet sniff, and then a stifled sob. Straining his ears, it almost sounds like it’s coming from inside the apartment. 

He quietly slips out of the bed and turns the handle on the door before he pulls it open to mask the sound of the latch. The music grows louder, though it’s still very low, and again he hears little pained whimpers. As he enters the doorway to the living room, he sees that Dana is sitting up, the crown of her auburn head visible over the back of the couch. 

“Dana?” he says softly, and her head snaps over to look at him, surprise and embarrassment on her face. 

She turns away quickly, swiping her hands across her cheeks in an attempt to clear away her tears. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she asks, and he takes a few steps further into the room. 

“No, I couldn’t sleep,” he tells her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says shortly. 

He listens to the song for a moment. 

“Who is this? The song?” he asks. 

“Sam Cooke,” she answers, then slowly turns her head to look at him again. “Does it sound familiar?” 

This time the look on her face is hopeful, and he feels preemptive guilt for disappointing her. 

“No,” he says. “Should it?”

She turns away.

“No,” she says flatly. “Goodnight, Mu–Jeff.”

“Goodnight.”

-

The top of his head slams against the headboard each time she snaps her hips against his, but the pain is worth it. She is animal, unabashed, so incredibly free. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes out, her eyes screwed shut tight and her hands pinned to the fronts of his shoulders for stability.

He touches her hips, feeling the flex of her glutes as she grinds against him. He tries to ignore his own pleasure, to distract himself from the tight slip of her over his shaft, but looking at her face only heightens it. The stitch of her eyebrows, the sag of her bottom lip. If she sees him watching her, she’ll withdraw, and he prays that her eyes stay closed. 

“I’m gonna come,” she says in a near-whisper, as though making a confession, and his balls draw up tight against his body. 

Then she is gone, pulling him under with her, stealing the air from his lungs. 

By the time he comes into consciousness, it’s too late. He groans and rubs his already softening erection through his cotton sweatpants, savoring the final throbs of pleasure before he has to deal with the aftermath. He can’t remember the last time he had a wet dream. Perhaps sometime in college. 

The details of his dream are dissipating, but one thing he knows for sure is that it was her. Dana. He feels his cheeks warm at the realization, but quickly reminds himself that one cannot be held responsible for the workings of one’s subconscious. She’s a beautiful woman, and he is a human male. It doesn’t mean anything. 

It’s light out, clearly morning, so he rises from the bed and peels his sticky pants and boxers from his body. He hopes that Byers never actually asks for them back. 

John Fitzgerald Byers. Mulder sees the four of them seated around a table, mouths open in laughter. Byers claps his hand on Mulder’s back and he feels jubilant. Accepted. 

He cringes and clutches the side of his head as it begins to throb. He dons clean boxers and jeans, then leaves the bedroom. 

“Dana?” he calls out. “Do you know if there’s any aspirin here?” He opens the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and begins to rummage around. 

He hears her footsteps as she approaches, then her arm snakes under his and plucks a bottle of ibuprofen off the bottom shelf. 

“Here,” she says, and he takes a step back so he can turn towards her. 

Her hair is dripping wet, and she’s dressed in jeans and a thin white tank top. An undershirt, really. In the millisecond that he lets his eyes fall to her chest, the darkened circles of her nipples under the fabric give away the fact that she’s not wearing a bra. When he looks back to her face, he sees that her eyes are on his bare chest.

“Does your head hurt?” she asks, averting her eyes to the bottle and shaking out two pills into her palm before depositing them into his. 

“Yeah, right here,” he says, rubbing just above his ear. 

Dana nods. 

“That happened to me, too. It will go away over time.” She gives him a somewhat appraising look, and he lifts his eyebrows in question. 

“How do you feel?” she asks cautiously. 

“About what?”

Her head quirks a little. 

“Who am I?” she asks. 

“Dana,” he answers. 

She shakes her head. 

“How do we know one another?” she tries. 

“We met at a coffee shop,” he says. “And…I’m not entirely sure how we know one another just yet. Allegedly we used to work together.”

“What about Diana? Your wife?”

“What about her?”

“Where did you meet?”

“At the FBI training academy, Quantico.”

She considers him for a beat, narrowing her eyes. 

“What about your wedding? When’s your anniversary?” she asks. 

“It’s—”

He waits for the date to roll off his tongue. He waits for a vision of Diana in a white dress, for recollection of the way his nerves were tangled just before the ceremony. Instead there’s just…nothing. Blankness. Not like that tip-of-the-tongue sensation where you know the information exists, but just can’t access it. It truly isn’t there. 

“I don’t remember,” he says, and his ears begin to ring. He looks at Dana and finds a sympathetic expression on her face. “Why don’t I remember?”

“I believe you don’t remember it because it never happened,” she says gently, and his stomach rolls. 

“I need to sit down.”

She takes him by the elbow and guides him to the couch, where he folds himself in half until his head is between his knees. He feels Dana’s hand on his back, rubbing in wide circles, and it’s disorienting more than comforting. He tries to remember proposing, or buying the house, or adopting Frenchie. It’s like remembering something you saw on the news: you know that it happened, but can’t speak to any of the specifics. There is no firsthand account. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears, and his chest is tight. He tries to pull in a deep breath but finds that he can’t. His hands are trembling, and he has the passing thought that he might be dying. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks with a chattering jaw. 

Something cool touches the back of his neck, and he reaches up to feel a wet towel draped across it. He doesn’t remember her leaving his side, but she must have. 

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” she says in a smooth, calming tone. “Listen to my voice, Mulder. I’m right here, and you’re safe.”

He sits up and the room spins. She grabs his hand, and he looks over at her. The blue of her eyes is so serene, so peaceful. He focuses on her irises, which thin out as her pupils bloom. She lifts his hand and lays it on her chest so he can feel the steady beat of her heart against his palm. She isn’t panicking. She isn’t afraid. 

“I want you to take deep breaths, Mulder. In through your nose, out through your mouth, like this.”

She models deep, slow, breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth. He feels her chest expand under his palm, then watches her lips purse into a little “o” as she breathes out. He’s not sure if he’s actually doing it or not, but watching her, and feeling her steady under his hand, slows his own heart and evens out his breathing. Slowly, slowly, he comes back to himself. 

“There you go,” she says in encouragement. “You’re okay.”

She removes his hand from her chest and places it on his knee, and he feels a flush of something between guilt and embarrassment as he realizes how close he was to touching her breast. 

“Sorry,” he says, chagrined. “That’s never happened to me before.” Her eyes narrow and her mouth turns down into a little pout, but she doesn’t say anything. “Or has it?”

She pushes her mouth into a smile and shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Are you hungry?”

They each finish dressing, and she makes them eggs and toast for breakfast. They sit in heavy silence as they eat. His brain oscillates between trying to remember things and realizing he can’t, to wondering what he might soon remember, to hoping that the Gunmen find something that could potentially explain what’s happening. Dana is also lost in thought, and he remembers that she has children she hasn’t seen in days. 

“I bet you miss your kids,” he says, and she startles a little.

“Um, yes, I do,” she says. “Even though they aren’t actually mine, I’ve been caring for them for the past two months. It doesn’t take long to become attached to children.”

“How old are they? If you don’t mind my asking.”

She shakes her head. 

“I don’t. Abby is six, and Peter is four.”

“Do they…I’m sorry if this is an inappropriate question, but do they look like you?” he asks. 

“I have a picture of them,” she tells him as she reaches for her purse. “I realize now that this picture must be digitally created, but it looks quite real.”

She hands him a wallet-size family photo. In it, Dana is standing next to a tall man with tawny skin and protruding ears. They’re both smiling and his arm is slung around her shoulders. A little stab of envy catches Mulder off guard, and he looks down to the children. The older one has fair skin, brown hair and blue eyes, and does resemble Dana. The younger takes more after the man in terms of coloring, but he has Dana’s mouth. He hands the photo back to her, and she looks at it for a long time. 

“I do see some resemblance,” she says. “But I think you can often find that if you go looking for it.”

He nods, and thinks again about the man in the picture. 

“Is Calvin a good guy?” he asks, and she regards him with some surprise. 

“Yes,” she says confidently. “He’s great, actually.”

“But…not great enough to stay?” he says carefully. 

Dana pulls in a deep breath and takes a moment to form her response. 

“It’s not that my life with Cal and the kids wasn’t a good one,” she begins. “If I hadn’t had the dreams that I did, if I hadn’t started remembering, I think I probably would have been quite happy with them. But even the best, most idyllic life isn’t a replacement for the one that belongs to you. The one that was built on a million little moments that each hold a place in your heart. It was a lovely life, but it wasn’t mine.”

He considers this. Considers that the life she was willing to give all of that up for was one in which he allegedly played a large part. 

“Please don’t take this with any offense, but it’s hard for me to imagine that you’d be so invested in your job and your relationship with a coworker. Given, I don’t know what the nature of the work that we allegedly did together was, but nobody likes their job that much, do they?”

She bites her lip and gives him a long look. He can tell that there’s something she isn’t saying, and he juts his chin out and lifts his eyebrows in request that she say it. 

“We were more than coworkers, Mulder,” she says evenly, then looks away. 

He feels a flush of heat throughout his body, and the image of her riding him in his dream comes to mind. 

“But Diana—”

“We thought Diana was dead,” she interrupts. “And even if she wasn’t, you two weren’t together. You hadn’t been in years.”

He wants to ask her more about that, but he can feel his blood pressure rising and decides that it might be too much right now. He’s not even sure he believes any of it, so what’s the point in upsetting himself?

“Why do you call me Mulder?” he asks instead, and she softens. 

“That’s your preference,” she says. “You’ve always hated your first name. You told me once that you even made your parents call you Mulder, though I later learned that isn’t true. You called me ‘Scully’ from the moment we met, and I called you ‘Mulder.’ It stuck, I guess.”

“Scully,” he says, just trying it on for size. Her chin trembles and her eyes glisten, and she nods once.

Her phone begins to trill, and she scrambles to dig it out of the bottom of her purse. 

“Hello?” she answers, her eyes darting over to his. 

She listens, giving intermittent ‘uh huh’ and ‘okay’s. Finally she says, “We’ll be ready,” and then hangs up. He gives her an expectant look. 

“Langly will be here in fifteen minutes,” she says as she stands. “They got in.”

He stares at her for a beat, then asks, “What did they find?”

“Everything,” she says, meeting his eye. “All of it.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[soulofapatrick]

The Feeling is Mutual - Gabriel Luna x Reader

Summary: Coco is getting sick of you telling her and Pedro how much you like Gabriel so she takes matters into her hands and let’s just say you’ll have to thank her 

Words: 1.8k 

Warnings: teasing

Y/N’s POV

“Men are stupid,” I’m growling as I storm into Pedro’s trailer. He just glances away from his phone, Coco raising an eyebrow at me as I flop onto Pedro’s bed, “I have been flirting with Gabriel all fucking week and he is so fucking oblivious.” 

“Have you told him you’re flirting with him?” Coco asks and I just turn my head to face them, an adorable smirk on Pedro’s face while Coco’s just gone back to making his hair Joel-like. I send a glare at her because she’s right but they both know I’m too shy to outwardly just tell the Texan that I am in love with him. I’m not really anybody compared to everyone else on set, being Ashley’s younger sister and here for the fun of being an extra in a game and show my sister helped bring to life, “I’ll take that as a no.” 

“No.” My voice is muffled from pushing my face into the pillows, relaxing at the comforting smell of Pedro: a strange mix of peppermint; rosemary and something woodsy like eucalyptus or lemongrass, “I can barely form a sentence in front of him let alone let him know I like him.” 

“So how have you been flirting then?” Pedro quirks an eyebrow at me while Coco’s typing furiously on her phone, a heart sinking smirk on her face. It has me jumping up and racing across the trailer to her but she’s pressed send and gives me a slightly guilty look. She’s just messaged Gabriel. My heart drops and I’m shimmying under the covers, pulling them over my head and letting out a small groan, “Coco, what did you do?” Pedro’s asking his stylist and there’s a pause before he lets out a quiet “Ahh.” 

Before either can speak they’re being called for, Pedro to go act and Coco to go help go stand by for touch ups. A gentle hand squeezes my foot before they’re both gone with the click of the trailer door, letting me pull down the covers and just stare up at the ceiling wondering what the fuck Coco sent Gabriel and how I’m going to get out of this without embarrassing myself. He’s probably laughing at the message, thinking I’m so stupid and immature for liking him. I mean I probably am because he’s the Gabriel Luna and I’m just Y/N Johnson… I’m nothing like my sister, no matter how much I’d love to be just like her but the acting tables have never been in my favour, only getting extras and sympathy roles like this. I’m only here as an extra because of who Ashley is but I guess I can’t really complain too much as I’ve become such good friends with Pedro. 

I didn’t believe people when they said he was one of the most down to earth and humble celebs they had ever met until I got introduced to him. He ignored my hand held out to shake and pulled me into a hug, telling me loved my role in Lockwood and Co. as if he watches it. It’s a show for young adults and no way would he watch the show just because we’d be together during ‘The Last of Us’ filming like he told me. Ashley told me that he had watched it to get to know me seeing as I’m going to play one of the kids from Jackson that is going to be prominent in season two. The show runners wanted to add a character that balanced out the Jackson Trio so they cast me when they heard who I was and what significant I have to the show. Well, what significance Ashley has to the show seeing as she voiced Ellie in the game. I’m not envious of Ashley, I really admire her and am so fucking happy she’s who I am related too it’s just a lot when people compare us. 

“Knock knock.” That deep southern rasp makes its way through the door and the thoughts swirling around my mind. It’s a voice that makes me weak at the knees and usually I’d love to heart right now? I want to just melt into the bed and stop existing. 

“Nobody’s home,” I call back, that sweet laughter no longer muffled when he swings the door open and steps inside. He closes the door behind him and just watches me, unruly curls falling in his face, cognac eyes bright with amusement and those freckles adorning his cheeks bright against his sun kissed skin. He’s smiling softly, hands on his hips as I mumble out a weak, “Hi Gabriel.” 

“Hi there sweetheart.” He moves towards me, face soft and actions slow as if not to spook me which yeah probably could happen. I’m not great at facing my fears and prefer to just leave the problem to sort itself out so when the problem rears its head like Gabriel coming here to see me I tend to panic and freeze, “So I heard something quite interesting.” He tells me, sitting on the bed in front of me as I sit up. 

“Hmmm, yeah?” I can’t keep the slight shake from my voice when he leans forwards, closing the gap between us until there’s centimetres. He smells like coffee and cedar wood and it’s so intoxicating, I can’t get enough of it.

“Yeah,” He breathes, those dark eyes flicking down to my lips and back up to meet my gaze, “Is it true?” I don’t trust my voice so I just nod and look away, feeling my cheeks heat up but those long delicate fingers catch my chin so I have no choice but to watch him again. His cheeks are just as read as he leans even closer, stopping when his lips are almost brushing mine, giving me the opportunity to pull away if he’s wrong which he’s most definitely not. In a rare moment of confidence I surge forwards, closing the gap and a small sound escaping when his lips move against mine. It’s soft and pulling, his hand cupping my cheek and thumb rubbing soothingly over my cheekbone, drawing me closer. I’m sliding onto his lap and his other hand is migrating to my hips as we separate for air, his thumb never stopping its soothing gesture, “I’m glad it’s true.” 

“Really?” 

“Would I be kissing you if I didn’t?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I just grumble, burying my face in the crook of his neck, face feeling like it might set fire to itself. His shirt is silky against my cheek, fitting him perfectly so I can feel the strong muscles under it, “Hey sweet girl, there’s no need to be shy around me.” He’s drawing me away from his shoulder and into another sweet kiss that has me tangling my hands through his curls, groaning at how soft they are and he moans back when I tug at them. Fuck. This is definitely unexpected but very much everything I’ve though about. He’s leaning back a little, hands on my hips, eyes dark and lips parted when he looks up at me and the sight has me letting out a low sound as he looks so fucking good. 

“You’re gonna ruin me if you keep looking at me like that,” I groan and his tongue just darts out to wet his lips as he smirks. He’s leaning forwards, lips attaching themselves to my neck and he’s sucking a hickey to the sensitive skin, causing me to arch into him both of us gasping when I accidentally roll my hips down into the tent in his tight jeans, “G-Gabriel, fuck.” 

He’s standing, setting me on my feet but keeping a hold of my hips as he walks me backwards until I hit the wall with a soft ‘oof’ and he’s pressing a leg between mine and capturing me in a kiss that has me tugging on his addictive curls. He’s crowding around me, being that much taller than me and it’s so fucking hot, being pressed against the wall by his body flat against mine. He’s pulling away too soon, murmuring, “I want to take you on a date first sweetheart and I don’t think Pedro would be too pleased if we did anything in his trailer.” 

Shit. We’re in Pedro’s trailer and I was meant to go find Ashley for lunch when Pedro and Bella went to film for the afternoon. Gabriel’s frowning, tilting his head when he sees the panic across my face, my hand reaching for my phone in my pocket as it rings. Ashley. 

“Ash! I’m so sorry!” I answer before she can speak and Gabriel just grins a cheeky look on his freckled face and he’s diving forwards, lips attacking my neck, “Am I-I too late to meet you?” 

She just sighs fondly as I try to hold in a moan, my breath hitching when Gabriel finds the soft spot just under my jaw, “No, of course you’re not, dumbass. Just get here soon okay? We have some catching up to do and you need to tell me all about Bella and Pedro. I’m actually really nervous to meet them!” 

“Y-yeah sure, give me half an hour.” My breath hitches again when Gabriel’s grip on my hips forces me to roll down onto his knee and my free hand is yanking at his hair by accident, a sound leaving his lips and there is no way Ashley didn’t hear it, “I’ll be there soon!” 

“Y/N, who-“ 

“Bye!” I’m hanging up and Gabriel’s chuckling, biting hard before his tongue soothes the pain and then his lips are on mine. They’re plump and velvety, leaving me wanting more when he nibbles at my bottom lip before his tongue darts out. Holy shit, I could kiss him all day but Ashley’s waiting for me and if I’m much longer she’s going to get suspicious. I’m never late to things like lunch with her and the fact she definitely heard Gabriel. 

“Go on baby girl, I’ll be here when you get back.” He pulls away and I whine at the emptiness surrounding me but he’s right. Ashley’s gonna get annoyed if I leave her handing for too long and Pedro is probably going to want an empty trailer when he’s done filming. He wonldn’t be mad or upset or anything if he found me still in here but I think I might get banned from his trailer if he finds Gabriel in here with me. 

“I won’t be back in time.” I whisper, keeping his hand in mine. 

“Alright then sweetheart, I’ll be at the hotel. Room 403, see you there baby girl.” He steals a chaste kiss before nudging me out the door of Pedro’s trailer, a smirk on his face as I’m unaware of the hickeys adorning my neck. His public mark of that I’m his and his alone. 

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If anyone knows of any other Gabriel Luna fanfics please let me know - he is highly under appreciated 

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[i-just-like-goats]

Ranpo x Reader Fluff

Summary: a gift always finds its way on your desk.

Warnings: none that I can think of. idk Ranpo’s a bit ooc but I’d like to think he’s a bit clueless when it comes to his own love life

WC: 0.8k

Main Masterlist

You stared at the singular mochi on your desk. It was the fifth sweet this week. Without fail, something sweet would find itself on your desk every morning.

“Morning.” A tired Atsushi walked into the office with a yawn.

“Tired?”

“Extremely,”

“Coffee’s on your desk,”

“You’re a lifesaver,”

You nodded at him as others walked into the office. The mochi sat in your desk drawer to be consumed later in the day. 

“Hey Ranpo. Mind if I sit with you for lunch?”

“Not at all, go ahead,”

Truth be told, you just wanted to spend some time with the man you admired. With such a smart head, charming personality and kind spirit, how could you not fall for his many attractions? You sat down next to him with a smile but frowned once you saw his lunch.

“Sweets and snacks for lunch? Really?”

“It’s not often, I do eat proper food for lunch normally. It’s just, I was too distracted to make myself lunch,”

Ranpo may have omitted the fact that he didn’t have time in the morning to make lunch because he was too busy contemplating what sweet to get you. It was a hard decision too. Mochi or dango? Both were very excellent treats, it was too hard to choose.

“Just make sure you bring a proper lunch tomorrow. For today, you’re lucky that I have a spare,”

You may have omitted the fact that you purposely made an extra lunch to give to him. Lucky for you, he didn’t have one, which allowed you to escape any awkwardness. A perfect opportunity presented itself and you took advantage of it.

“Thank you,” he said with a grateful smile.

The two of you continued to eat in a comfortable silence. You took the mochi out of your pocket and looked at it with a small smile.

“Would you like to split it with me?” You offered.

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but I have plenty.” Ranpo held up a box of the same mochi you were holding in your hand.

“Alright,”

You opened the packet ready to eat it but stopped. You looked at Ranpo. He turned his head to look back at you with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Is the mochi from you?”

The sudden question made Ranpo’s eyes widen and a few droplets of sweat formed on his face.

“Yes.” He hung his head in shame as though he were admitting his guilt to a heinous crime.

“Oh, thank you,”

To Ranpo’s surprise, you happily took a bite out of the mochi.

“It’s delicious,” you praised.

“How?”

“I don’t know. You bought it,”

“No, I mean, how do you not have any questions for me? You’re just going to accept it?”

“You looked nervous when I asked about it, so I decided to not go further. Besides, I would feel guilty and end up revealing something else in return,”

“Thank you,”

“It’s no problem,”

The following day, another sweet found its way on your desk. You smiled. 

That same day, a full lunch box found its way on Ranpo’s desk. He smiled.

“Thank you!” You shouted across the office simultaneously.

And the same happened over the next few days. It became a routine for the both of you. Today was slightly different, Ranpo was sitting at your desk.

“I hope I’m not intruding,”

“Not at all,”

You sat next to him and both of you ate.

“You’re a really good cook,”

“Thank you. I really enjoy seeing and eating the sweet treats you leave for me,”

“It’s no problem,”

The two of you settled back into the comforting silence that you were both accustomed to.

“You know, I didn’t ‘accidentally’ make another lunch that day,”

Ranpo tilted his head.

“I made it because I wanted to give something to you. I admire you so much as a colleague,”

“Is that it?”

Ranpo’s confused face turned into one of panic when you looked taken aback.

“Sorry sorry. I was just expecting something more, but that’s just me being hopeful. The reason that I give only you sweet things every morning is because I admire you too. Just. In a different way,”

“Oh thank goodness. I didn’t want to insinuate anything without knowing your feelings. That makes this slightly easier. Ranpo, I like you romantically,”

“I like you in a romantic way as well. Would you like to go on a date tonight?”

“I would love to. Let’s take a break from my cooking shall we?”

“Yes. Wait no, I love your cooking, but you should take a break,”

You giggled as he fumbled over his words. Being bold, you pecked his cheek and continued eating as though nothing happened. Ranpo’s heart beat faster and his ears were redder than before. He did nothing but smile happily at his food. You were in the same state as him. Just two happy fools with feelings that would turn into love.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

(I sent in the ABO beach snippet, I’m trying to be braver and send filth off anon more! I’m glad you liked it 🥰)

I’ve also been obsessed with the dom!omega Bucky/sub!alpha Steve dynamic you mentioned a bit ago, so… same beach scenario, but dynamic switched. RSDR alpha bartender Steve used to being fawned over by the wealthy omegas who frequent the resort looking for their bit of rough, the fantasy of rugged sex on the beach with a brutal alpha; omega Bucky who didn’t want to come to the beach anyway because he always slicks when he’s hot and he’s not in the mood for a randy alpha jumping him, thanks.

But when they see each other at the cabana bar, SMELL each other - giant, bearded Steve flushes bright red and fumbles the tumbler that a moment ago looked so natural in his hands. And Bucky, who moments ago had been bracing himself to fend off another idiot alpha, finds himself soaking his swim shorts and subtly flashing his wrists - like an alpha would - as he approaches the bar.

Steve turns completely away from the omega that had been in the middle of propositioning him, eyes locked with Bucky’s. It’s loud, but he’s so laser focused that he HEARS the squelch as Bucky sits on his barstool, and Bucky’s smirk tells him he knows he heard it. Bucky leans across the bar so he can waft his scent forward and speak to Steve in a soft growl. When Steve leans in too, Steve finds himself mindlessly humping the counter, his half-hard cock aching and knot already tingling. Neither of them notice all the other patrons shifting uncomfortably as Bucky reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind Steve’s ear.

“Didn’t think I’d meet a pretty alpha like you today, sweetheart.”

(I have to get ready for work but feel free to run with it 😉)

related to this

(Oh, nice! It's always fun to put a name to that little grey face, haha. That's fair, though. Putting stuff out there can be nerve-wracking. To some degree, even I'm anonymous here.)

Ooooh, this is interesting!

I don't think I've seen anything out there with an RSDR looking Chris character being the submissive partner. Much less an omegaverse AU. So, points for creativity!

The part that really got me with this, though, was, "When Steve leans in too, Steve finds himself mindlessly humping the counter, his half-hard cock aching and knot already tingling."

Tell me why the hell that's so fucking hot? 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Bug, burly Steve just can't help himself. He smells Bucky, and it's all he can think about--fucking into his sweet, wet heat. His mind has taken a deep dive into the gutter. Without even noticing then, he fucks his hips forward, little thrusts, jerks, against the bar. He just... he needs friction. He needs heat. He needs wetness.

God, please.

He doesn't even know this omega! But he wants him. He's praying as a nonbeliever for this omega to put his money where his mouth is and keep being pushy and dominant because despite his appearance Steve's guilty, carnal pleasure is having the control he should be demanding and reveling in ripped away from him. He wants to give in. Give up.

Although, if we go back to the other snippet you sent in...

Now I'm thinking of beach hook-ups. On the sand or in pick-up truck beds, as I mentioned. But, perhaps, it's neither this time, and instead Bucky leads Steve back to the private section of the beach owned by the luxury hotel. The VIP part of the resort, if you will. Extra expensive.

Bucky's wealth is obvious. It drips off of him like his need to push and shove and take like a feisty alpha might.

After the short, handsy walk--Bucky can't keep his hands off of Steve's belt loops, working his lithe fingers in there and pulling him along--they wind up on the balcony of Bucky's beach front hotel room. They aren't just standing on the wind-swept balcony, though. No. That's too simple. Making out like teenagers, standing, pressed against the railing, isn't enough.

They are making out, lips and teeth and tongue, rough, but they've moved on from being vertical to horizontal. It more. Advanced.

Horizontal with Steve spread out like an offering on one of the two lounge chairs. Hairy, muscular, and just thick.

His big, heavy hands are burning through Bucky's little shorts, touching his delicate waist. The rough edges of his nails dig into Bucky's flesh with every smooth roll of Bucky's hips. Grinding his pert, round ass back against Steve's full cock.

Oh, God, that's it.

Steve can't help but groan. Kicked in the chest.

Fuck.

Steve is a hot line of steel that's still getting thicker. Fattening up. Throbbing. Hot.Yes. Bucky has a desperate hunger inside, and Steve's going to feed him well. He's gonna stuff him full.

Steve's knot hasn't even completely expanded yet, but it will.

Bucky isn't sure how he fit that fucking thing--his goddamn huge cock, he's so hung it's worth sobbing over--in his shorts, but he's glad he did. Bucky's gonna fucking peel him outta those, shove that cock in his hole, and make it expand when he wants but not a moment before. On his word. Knot me. Just imagining saying it, imagining the alpha's obedience, sends a hot, sticky rush through Bucky's chest. He's leaking even more now. He's sure. Thick, wet trails of it from his hole down his thighs.

Despite all that, Bucky isn't bothered outwardly. He's sitting pretty. He's sweating but not panting. He's leaking slick like a river, but he's not trembling. He's growling, not whimpering.

He's in control. And it tastes so good.

Conversely, Steve seems to be fucking savoring giving up control--the only part of him that's tense is his hands, grabbing but not preventing Bucky from moving. Just trying to hold on. His last grasp. Steve's head has lulled back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to open, and shutting again with every spark of pleasure. His muscles are limp otherwise. Panting. Barely tethered to earth.

And that tether is getting thinner by the minute. Thinner with every sinful roll of Bucky's hips again and again and again.

Fuck, yeah.

Another stupid sound comes out of Steve. He can't hold them in. How could he? His gut is tight, tight, tight. Boiling with flames. Those hips and, Jesus, that ass moves in a way that doesn't look real. That can't be real. It's so fucking pretty.

And not to mention, the back of Bucky's shorts are dretched. Steve can feel it through his own shorts. Bucky is leaking. Every shift of fabric makes a wet squelch. The sound is so obscene that Steve's cheeks are beating with his heart. Blushing impossibly hard. Bucky doesn't just sound wet--he sounds soaked, like if Steve were to put his fingers inside him, that hot, thick wetness would drip slowly down his palm and wrist. Fragrant and molten hot. Steve would, if Bucky would let him, lick a broad line up his slicked wrist and lap up every drop he shoved out of Bucky's hole with his fingers hard, deep thrusts.

A shiver rolls through Steve's thick muscles; it's not just a shiver, though, really, it's a convulsion.

On top of him, spread out in his lap, making it his thrown, Bucky laughs and bounces. He's not even riding his cock, they're just grinding, but he's bouncing! He's moving like he is riding.

God.

It drives Steve up the wall.

"You wanna put your cock in me, big alpha?" Bucky drawls against his lips, sizzling hot.

Steve whimpers.

He--

He didn't know he could make that sound. But, it definitely came out of him. Bucky wouldn't make a noise like that.

"Whaddya say?" Bucky tucks a strand of Steve's unruly hair behind his ear. And even that little touch is electric, so much so that Steve chases it. Starved for it. He tilts his chip up into the touch, wanting more. Burning for more. For anything.

"Yuh-yeah," the alpha stutters.

"Tsk tsk, now come on those aren't good manners," Bucky rumbles.

Steve immediately knows what he wants, and--

Fuck.

"Oh," Steve's brain whites out, "please." If he thought he was whimpering before, that was child's play. This is a whimper. "Please!"

Bucky tips his head to the side like he's considering it.

That bright, hot white flash in his head consumes him at the threat of not getting to shove his achy cock inside this glorious omega, "please, please, fuck, please I wanna put my cock in you," Steve tries harder, lips buzzing.

"You wanna squeeze your big fuckin' cock in my wet, tight little hole, hm?" Bucky purrs. "You wanna try? 'M not sure it's gonna fit!"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Steve chokes out, lost in it. Sounding just perfectly stupid. He's gonna try. He's gonna huff and puff and whine and moan and thrust and try. He's gonna try so fucking hard to work his cock into his wet hole. His hands bite into Bucky's ass now, shifting from his hips.

Bucky viciously kisses the stupid off his mouth with a wicked look.

Guh.

This is how Steve dies.

[blueshistorysims]

April 11th, 1912, London, England

Edeline’s relationship with Montgomery quickly blossomed into a close friendship. She admired how outspoken and intelligent he was, but also how kind and attentive he was to her. Their conversations quickly moved from the classroom to walks in the parks, and Edeline began to feel something she’d never felt about anyone before. So when Montgomery had been given tickets to the Royal Ballet’s production of Giselle from the hospital he worked at, and he had invited Edeline to attend with him, she had nearly screamed in delight. 

Edeline was enchanted to see the dancers move so beautifully, and sitting next to Montgomery made it all the better. He had looked guilty being in there, and gave the wealthy patrons nasty looks when they weren’t looking. She wasn’t sure why, but she decided not to say anything about it. 

“Your sister’s name is Giselle, aye?” He asked as they walked out of the opera house. 

“Yes, so when you asked me, I thought it would be amusing,” She said, hoping that he didn’t see her blushing.

“Is that the only reason?”

“I enjoy spending time with you.”

He smiled. “I do too.”

Their conversation took them back to Montgomery’s townhouse, but when Edeline stepped into the home, it was almost as if the energy in the air had changed. Everything was suddenly tense, as if she was walking on a tightrope that was about to snap. 

He seemed to sense it too, turning around. He seemed frozen for a second before he finally stroked her cheek, and she gasped at the touch. 

“Edeline… I need to be truthful. I think I might be a little in love with ya.”

She sighed. “I think I am too,” she confessed before rushing forward and kissing his lips.

Their kissing grew more passionate and they traveled up his narrow stairs to his bedroom as his hands moved in places where no one had ever touched her before. 

Gasping, Montgomery suddenly broke apart from Edeline and he sat on his bed. “I dinna think yer father and mother would like it much if we sinned tonight.”

She swallowed and sat down next to him. “You’re right.”

“That dinna mean I don’t want to be with ya. But… I need to tell ya somethin’.”

She frowned. “What?”

“...I’m a communist, Edeline. I have no shame in it, but it would be hard to be with me because of it.”

Edeline wasn’t entirely shocked by the information. It explained many of his political rants and scowls at the wealthy. “If you’re a communist, why did you come with me to the ballet? Why do you live in this beautiful townhouse in Soho?”

“Those are fair questions. The tickets were a gift, and I only went since the proceeds to went to charity. And I thought you would like it. This house? It was a present from my godparents when I graduated from the University of Edinburgh. Their family’s owned the house since the 1800s. I use the house for meetings with other Scottish Marxists in London. 

“Are your parents Marxists?”

He shook his head. “They’re liberal nationalists, but my sister Elspeth is. I got her into it, and now she’s a bigger communist than me.” He smirked. “She’s an interior designer.”

“A communist interior designer. That’s new.” Edeline swallowed. “Montgomery, I don’t care if you’re a communist. I want to be with you, period. We’ll… just have to keep it my father, mother, and grandmother.” She stood up. “I’d like to change into my nightgown. I bring extra clothes everywhere. I still want to stay even if we’re not sinning.”

He complied. “A half sin, then?”

“A half sin,” she repeated. 

It was the most wonderful feeling, to be held by someone while you slept. Edeline didn’t think she’d slept that well before. When she had woken up, she saw Montgomery was gone but smelled the fresh sizzling of bacon. She smiled and got of out bed.

By the time she was downstairs, the bacon smelt burnt, and she found Montgomery sitting on one of his couches. 

“Montgomery?”

He turned and stood, and she saw that he was in tears.

“My God, what happened?” She asked, engulfing him in her arms.

“The Titanic sank. My godparents were on the boat. They were old and traveling second class. I doubt they survived.”

“I thought it was supposed to be unsinkable.”

“Every ship can be sunk, I suppose,” he whispered, hugging her tightly.

[carnalhaus]

nobody asked but i’m expanding on why stat hates sledge so much, plus praline stuff

sledge was a major ass when he was younger. he really only softened up when he met enid, and prior to that he always sort of approached things with aggression. when he knew praline he was not very nice to her because she was frustrating, and he never bothered to look into why she acted the way she did, so he always responded to situations with her with apathy and annoyance. needless to say stat holds a grudge on him when he gets told about all this because he was definitely a big reason as to why praline continued down the path she did.

but more than that, the main reason stat doesn’t like him is because he sees through him. sledge really does care about the girls, very genuinely, i’ll say that right now, but i’d be lying if i said there wasn’t a part of him that wants to make it up to them so he can feel better about himself. he doesn’t even really realize that, it’s not something he’s necessarily conscious of, but stat is very observant and he sees it. sledge feels useless and overwhelmingly guilty and he just wants to do something so he can feel like less of a sad sack.

praline especially will humor him, which makes him feel better. she’ll give him little tasks to do and ask him for things and it’ll make him feel like he’s helping her somehow. truth be told praline is also self destructive and she would absolutely hurt herself just so he could save her to make him feel better (it would not make him feel better, but this is how her brain works). i think it’s because as much as she feels neutral about him and doesn’t think too hard about him, there’s still a part of her that’s perpetually 16 and is still holding out hope that he’ll help her somehow.

in addition to that part, it’s another reason why stat wasn’t super fond of keeping sledge around at first. he knows how praline is, and he doesn’t want her hurting herself or doing crazy shit for him again. she used to do that exact thing when she was younger, mainly because sledge was new and he was the only person in town who wasn’t used to her antics, and she thought maybe he’d give her attention for the shit she pulled. stat thinks he’s a bad influence basically because praline especially is very fragile emotionally, not to mention how sledge sort of enables enid, more on that another day.

nowadays though they’re much less tense with each other i think. at first stat definitely felt very aggressively towards him but now they can at the very least chill out together. stat even enjoys having him around sometimes, even if it’s only because he’s useful. money and extra brawn and whatnot. i think the girls just like having him around cause he always plays good cop when stats being mean (which is often).

[bobmckenzie]

Up Late ⇢ selfshipvember day 4

word count: ~1400 blurb: tax season is always stressful for Louis, but his girlfriend Caitie can't stand to see him overworking himself.

Tax season was Louis' busiest time of year, and Caitie knew he'd have more of a workload than usual—she just hadn’t realized how much more. Dates had become non-existent, he’d forgotten his lunch on the counter twice this week, and he was turning in for the night later and later.

Gigs with the Galactic Chicks had gotten her used to staying up late, so Louis almost always fell asleep before her. But tonight, she'd been yawning for the past hour, flipping through channels on the little TV in his room and waiting for him to come to bed.

When the digital clock on his bedside table turned to 2:00am, she turned off the TV with a sigh and slinked out from under the covers. They'd been dating for six months now, and in all that time she'd never seen him up at this hour. He'd tried to wait up for her in the past when her shows ran extra late, but always ended up falling asleep—he just wasn't a night owl.

Her bare feet shuffled on the plush carpet of his bedroom until she stepped out into the living area, padding across the cool wooden floors to the dining table, where he’d set up to work after dinner—that was almost seven hours ago.

He was hunched over papers, one hand busy scrawling something onto a yellow notepad, the other punching numbers into his calculator. His hair, normally gelled down and styled just the way he liked it, was no longer abiding by the product, all fluffed up and messy. And he was mumbling to himself, talking through whatever it was he was doing—she never pretended to understand the technicalities of his work, and loved him for not minding that she didn't. 

Normally she found it relaxing to watch him work; he was always so organized, so methodical. The sight before her now was anything but relaxing—her boyfriend looked like the definition of stress.

"Louis?"

His head shot up, eyes meeting hers. There were dark circles beneath them, framed by his glasses, which were slightly askew. "Caitie—Gee, what're you doing up?" He checked his watch.

"Waiting for you," she replied with a gentle laugh.

He sighed, shaking his head, gaze going back to his work. "I'm sorry. I'll probably be up at least another hour—I should've told you not to wait. Get some sleep, okay?"

With a sigh, she walked over to him, standing by his side and running a hand over his hair. "You know, I don't spend the night here just because your bedding's nicer than mine."

He was looking more exhausted by the second, and now confused to top it off. “You—What?” He stared up at her, and she could see now that his eyes were bloodshot.

He was clearly too tired to even understand the joke. She maneuvered to sit on his lap, one hand on his shoulder, the other brushing back his hair. "I’m saying I was hoping to spend some time with you tonight. I miss you, Lou-Bear." The nickname was a weakness of his, she knew, and she wasn't above using it. "You've been working so hard all week."

He smiled at the petname, but gestured around her to the scattered paperwork. “I told you I’d be busy. You know, I—I understand when you’ve got a lot of practice sessions, when you’re busy getting ready for a big gig and everything.” 

"No, I know, it’s just…” She shrugged, heart sinking, gaze falling from his. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye this morning, you know. One second you were here, the next thing I knew you were out the door."

His brow furrowed, but the memory seemed to click, his expression falling. "Oh, Caitie, I'm sorry—"

"No, no,” she shook her head, not meaning to make him feel guilty over it, “it's alright, I understand. Your mind is on your work right now, and I get that. I’ll survive without romance for a few weeks—but you can't survive staying up until three in the morning and getting up at seven.”

He put his hands on her waist, giving a gentle squeeze. “Listen, I promise things’ll go back to normal soon. I’ll take you out on a real nice date as soon as Tax Day’s behind us.”

“Louis.” She took his chin gently in her hand. He wasn't getting the point. “I can live without a morning kiss, and without dates, but I can't live with you overworking yourself like this."

"I'll… I'll be okay," he insisted. But with her holding him like this, the idea of getting all snuggled up in bed and finally getting some sleep was even more appealing than it had been an hour ago when he'd almost fallen asleep at the table daydreaming about it.

His whole body was aching from sitting and hunching over his work all day, his eyes were stinging and barely able to stay open, his thoughts were muddled… 

"Please come get some sleep,” she pleaded, pouting slightly. “For me?”

When she cupped his face in her hand, he knew he was a goner. He couldn't stop himself from resting against her palm, his eyes fluttering shut, mind emptying as the exhaustion he'd been ignoring crept in. 

"Things’ll be easier for you tomorrow if you get the extra hour of rest," she cooed softly, trying to lull him with her voice. "I already laid some pajamas out for you… and in the morning you can take a nice, long shower while I make you some breakfast…" She'd make sure it was a hearty one, too. He seemed to be running on granola bars and takeout lately. "How's that sound?"

Her other hand was playing in his hair again, slowly brushing through the strands, relaxing him beyond what he thought was possible during this time of year. His breathing was slowing, mind now thinking of cotton sheets, his warm comforter, and Caitie cuddled up against his side. 

"Well… That sounds… real nice."

"Come on," she whispered, standing slowly, not wanting to break the trance she had him in. Taking him by the hand, she guided him out of the stiff chair—if he tried to pull this type of thing tomorrow night, maybe she could lure him away from work with the offer of a massage, she thought. God knew he must’ve needed one.

She flicked off the overhead lights, leaving them only in the glow of the moonlight leaking in from between the curtains he'd forgotten to close and the dim stream of lamplight coming from his bedroom. He shuffled beside her all the way to his room, yawning as she shut the door behind them. His green pajamas were sitting folded on the still-made half of the bed, curtains drawn, gentle hum of the fan in the corner of the room only adding to his drowsiness. 

When she looked down at him, she almost laughed—his eyes were practically closed. He was falling asleep on his feet. "Why don't I take these…" She gently removed his glasses, stepping over to put them on the bedside table before reaching for his wrist. "And this," she said softly, fingers undoing his watch. 

"Mmhmm…"

She couldn't help smiling. "Lou, you're exhausted. Let's just lie down, okay?" She walked over to place his pajamas on top of the dresser, pulling the bedding back.

"I'm in my work clothes," he yawned the sentence, words slurred. "I'll get the sheets all dirty."

"I'm free all day tomorrow," she said, taking him by the hand to lead him to his side of the bed. "I'll wash them."

The smile he gave as he sat was dopey and filled with love. "Really?"

"Really," she answered softly, guiding him to lie down before tucking him in. "And then I'll bring you some lunch at the firehouse, okay?" 

She turned off the lamp and slipped into bed, where Louis instantly scooched closer to cuddle up. He slung an arm around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

"Will you stay and eat with me? I miss you too," he murmured.

A smile grew on her face as she took off her glasses and set them beside his. Finally she snuggled against him, not caring that the zipper on his turtleneck was poking her shoulder, or that the hair brushing against her cheek was still a little stiff from styling product. "I'd like that."

It dawned on him that he'd forgotten a goodnight kiss, too. With all the energy he had left, he lifted his head to place a soft, brief peck to her mouth before nuzzling back against her shoulder. "Love you."

"Love you too," she whispered, heart warm and happy as she closed her eyes.

[straytrax]

I accidentally deleted the request- but the one who asked for my Sniperspy headcanons: thank you for asking! I’d love to share cause, I too, have enormous brainrot!

Firstly, I'd like to say that these headcanons are with Red Sniper/Blu Spy. They’re not much different from a relationship with Red Spy, but he has certain headcanons that differ from his Blu counterpart and he has a different scenario in which he meets the Red Sniper.

They met, formally and without drawn blades, in an uncommon rickety bar in Teufort. It began with a mocking barb from Sniper, who had just walked in, and an unusually placid threat from Spy, who was evidently tipsy and more. Sniper felt almost guilty looking at the man so disheveled outside of working hours, and lacking a team no less. It was dangerous; the respawn system was off, after all. He hesitantly took a seat beside the spy, and before he had a chance to speak, Spy’s tongue was as loose as local gossipers having overheard new profound knowledge of the mercenaries and their little fort. Most of his tangent was nothing of importance (especially his snarky retorts towards Sniper) and half in French, so Sniper hardly followed. However a small sliver of dismal emotion stirred up in Spy, catching Sniper’s attention. Before he went any further, Spy paid for his drinks and carefully walked out of the bar. Following the incident, Spy targeted Sniper for the whole week until they met again at the same bar. This time Spy was sober. (Of course there’s more to this, but it’s an abstract snippet of how things started to get the ball rolling between them!)

(Okay, here’s them in a romantic relationship) Spy loves to stir up Sniper’s gravelly yet elated laugh, and Sniper loves to rouse an infatuating bubbly snort from Spy. Whether it be through ludicrous shenanigans, tickling, and, god forbid, dad jokes (contrary to what you might think, Sniper’s the one loaded with them. He secretly stashes 101 so bad, they’re good dad joke books) it doesn’t fail to make the other laugh. They get extra giggly when they are drunk. Sniper pulls out his infamous dance moves, tripping on his own feet and bringing everything he touches down with him. Meanwhile Spy tries to sing the best he can, which is equivalent to a cat being dragged through a bagpipe.

They do, however, have a mutual correlation that when things feel quiet, it’s nice to stay quiet. They share the pleasant silence while lounging or cuddling, or taking up smaller activities. Sniper likes to knit during these times. It’s easier to prevent extra stitches and tightened stitching than end up frogging most of it when talking, since it disrupts his focus. Spy savors reading and drawing. Sometimes he doesn't have to bring any books over, Sniper reads himself— just not much— or he’s already left a couple books from his previous visit. That being said, Spy still never arrives empty handed— without taking his weapons into account. He carries a notebook with a well worn pencil tied to it. While Sniper’s engrossed, Spy will sketch the man, sometimes discreetly or right across from him. He’d earn a bashful murmur and a foot tap from under the table when he’s noticed, but he’s never told to stop.

Following up with Spy never coming empty handed: he also brings food! He normally brings it on days when his counterpart, Red Soldier, or Red Demoman butcher their turn to cook (which is almost always), but will happily indulge his lover with more sweets and spices whenever he desires to. Spy also brings gourmet and pastry magazines he’s had stashed or exported from Europe to Sniper’s van, and they both review the ones Spy could possibly prepare and return with. Sniper knows he’s not as adept in culinary as Spy and will instead hunt the local critters, prepare them for cooking, and give them to Spy to fix. Sniper handed a prepped python to Spy once and he came back with a delicious soup that hit the spot stronger than any game he’s had before.

Sorry it’s so short! Hopefully I can write more in the near future.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi! I’m here for the redacted boy pairing, I saw it on your blog and honestly wasn’t going to submit, until I read the questions and thought that they were super fun, unique, and interesting! The song I’m fixated on at the moment is This is what Autumn Feels Like by JVKE. The lyric I always look towards too whenever I play it is “Love is like riding a bike, scary but then it’s alright. I got the hang of it, right?” Because I feel like it’s a pretty good analogy! And I definitely relate to always wondering whether or not you’re doing something correctly 😅. My Enneagram Type is 6 apparently (I took the test just now) and I’m an ENFJ if that helps. I don’t think I’ve ever gone out of my way to listen to a ‘gargantuan YouTube essay’ but I do enjoy hearing people ramble about their interests if that’s similar! My childhood imaginary friend was Lucy from Narnia, I used to imagine that we would go horseback riding and I would run away to Narnia with her and never come back. To fall asleep I usually stay up watching shows (current obsession is criminal minds) or doing things like that and then passing out, though if I can’t sleep I usually just count until my brain shuts off. I would love the name Adrianna. I just think it’s really pretty and it has a lot of nickname options! Which is one of the few things I dislike about my current name, there are like 2 things you can call me to shorten it and one of them reminds me too much of my dad for me to feel comfortable with people using it. I think my favorite audio is either the decorating for the solstice one with David (I’m feral for the way he explains it all and then goes out of his way to tell Angel that he doesn’t want them to feel left out and that they’re the most important part of his life!!) or the one where Vincent tells Lovely about the monarchal summit (oh the foreshadowing) and about his first time there (I think it’s called Cuddling with your Vampire bf but I could be wrong). The Redacted boys I don’t get the hype for but don’t necessarily hate are Ollie (sorry dude, I’m sure you’re sweet and all but it’s just not my cup of tea) and Vega (I do actually dislike him! Everyone talks about this one video of him in the imperium but I’m too scared to watch the whole imperium and no one has given me a clear answer on what video it is that he’s not a ass). I’ve read the Lunar Chronicles (highly recommend) so many times that I practically know them by heart. I have a soft spot for twisted Fairy Tales and LET ME TELL YOU THEY DO IT SO WELL! This may be an odd answer but I’d want Damien as my best friend. I feel like we have a lot in common and I love me a sarcastic but incredibly driven kinda guy, that’s how a lot of my friends are. I don’t have a go-to topic when I tired, but everyone can tell because I start giggling like crazy, as if everything is funny 🥲. My gas station drink is the Cumberland farms slushies, I would mix the blue and red to make purple. I’m a sucker for the Spotify daily mixes tbh, bc I don’t have premium and they offer me the most amount of control as far as changing the song, replaying it, and only listening to the ones that I want to, plus it’s curated which I very much enjoy. My guilty pleasure media is probably in part Redacted 😅 but also I enjoy SOME Yandere stories that I find on like fanfic websites. And I’m talking about like ‘log this person is so dedicated to you! How fun! 🤩’ I usually scroll past when it’s like an actually ab-sive situation or senario. I really enjoyed this thank you!! 😊

Sorry this is the same person who just submitted the last ask (the one with the imaginary friend being Lucy from Narnia) and of course after I submitted I thought of some extra to add 😭 sorry for the inconvenience, I just wanted to add that I’m an Aries and a huge swifty, have a good day!!

Hmmm, this is hard because I feel like ENFJs could really work so beautifully with a lot of people- at least, Redacted people. In the end, I decided to pair the Protagonist, the natural leader, with our favorite leader, David Shaw.

After all, ENFJs, Arieses, and Sixes can be summed up as confident, principled idealists, the kind of friend who takes charge and takes care of their own. You’d be a wonderfully extroverted contrast to David, the perfect mate of the pack Alpha. I also like David for you because Sixes tend to be motivated by a desire for stability and security in their lives, and… well, c’mon. He runs a security company. I need not say more.

In addition to the pun, there’s so many cute, little things that’d be charming about your life together. Criminal Minds marathons would be so fun with David; he strikes me as the type who can always guess the UNSUB, and he feels a strong kinship with Hotch. He wouldn’t really understand the Taylor Swift hype, but that wouldn’t stop him from pulling some security connections to get you killer seats when she tours close to Dahlia.

Song:

No matter where you are, I'll be there/ We can be the generation/ Who learns how to love/ Mistakes and empty promises/ Will never be enough/ So tear apart these giant hearts/ That beat inside us now/ Let's conquer the percentages/ And rise above the crowd/ And I won't let you fall (won't let you fall)

This song is one of the most down to earth yet romantic songs I know, and that’s why I like it for you and David. Fun fact, the duo who sings this are married, and this is the song they wrote and performed as their wedding vows. That’s the kind of heart-melting, ooey gooey lovey shit that I think suits David and his partner, because that man is a sap and not good at hiding it.

Runner-Ups:

Lasko, I like for you for two reasons. One, he could use a friend and partner like you, he needs it. Two, I can see him also being a Narnia kid growing up, so that’d be a really cute thing for y’all to bond over. Geordi, I also think could use a partner like you, but honestly he’s mostly a runner up because he’s my favorite Redacted boi to headcanon as a Swiftie.

note: it’s no inconvenience at all, lovey, you’re good 💚

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌