#smile'' like he avoids forming bonds but he's also so eager to and it causes turmoil for him

[skunkes]

playing dolls with ocs in the brainzone is also so ^_^ to me with recent subjects bc. Idk! Its not in whatever his canon story would be because this all exists outside of that but something about "vampire guy who feels unsafe around men and avoids becoming attached to people due to centuries of unending grief" healing and getting attached to and feeling safe around 2 guys of the Good and Sweet and Patient genre is really ^_^ to think about. I like having him around

[pastryfication]

rivalling teams | oscar piastri

a bit of a part one to this. thank u for the idea @insunia 🫶

pairing: oscar piastri x williams employee!reader

summary: the story of how it came to be that a member of logan’s team went on a date with a mclaren driver, and all the hardships you had to face because of your different team colours.

warnings: james vowles being a dick

working in formula 1 had always been your dream, and landing a job as a data analyst for the williams f1 team was that dream come true.

but the thrill of joining such a prestigious team was quickly ruined by the nervousness you felt as you stood outside of the doors on your first day. you were younger and less experienced than almost all other employees and you felt a sense of segregation as you first entered the team.

luckily for you, you were starting at the same time as logan sargeant; a young and talented driver who was also new to the team.

from your first day at williams, logan and you formed a quick bond. both of you were fresh out of adolescent, very ambitious, and more than eager to prove yourselves. the shared experience of being newcomers provided a foundation for a strong friendship and you often found yourselves working late into the night together, enjoying each others company immensely.

it happened one day, after a particularly grueling week, that logan invited you to join him for a casual dinner.

"you need a break," he had said, flashing his characteristic grin. "and i want you to meet an old friend of mine."

curious and eager for some downtime, you had agreed, and you soon found yourself following logan to a small, cozy restaurant.

the old friend he had wanted you to meet was oscar piastri, and you found yourself extremely grateful for logan when you realised that his fellow driver and longtime friend was charming, with a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye that made you feel at ease instantly.

the evening turned into night, and you found yourself drawn to oscar. while he had seemed closed of at first, you had soon realised that wasn’t really the case. the three of you talked for hours, and by the end of the night, oscar asked if he could see you again.

over the next few weeks, you and oscar started dating. he was thoughtful and kind, always making time for you despite his hectic schedule. your relationship blossomed quickly, and you cherished every moment together, even though you had to keep it discreet. you had no idea what the reactions of your employers would be, but you were both nervous to find out.

and find out you did, because the secrecy didn't last long. the williams team found out about your relationship, and the reaction was less than favorable. one afternoon, you were called into a meeting with your boss.

"we've heard about your relationship with oscar piastri," james began, his tone stern as he looked at you. "it's causing concern within the team. we need your full commitment here, without any distractions."

you felt your heart sink at the words. “my relationship isn’t affecting my job, i can assure you of that—“

“i’m not sure i can trust you to do your best for the team while being involved with a rivalling driver.” he interrupted you.

his tone made you feel like a misbehaved kid and you looked down to avoid his gaze. "are you asking me to choose between my job and my relationship?"

he nodded, his expression unyielding. "unfortunately yes, we are."

the news left you devastated and confused. you loved your job and had worked so hard to get there, but you also cherished your relationship with oscar. torn and unsure of what to do, you confided in logan later that day.

"this isn't fair," logan said, frustration evident in his voice. "why should you have to choose? they should be happy for you, not punishing you."

oscar was equally furious as soon as he heard about the situation. "they can't make you choose," he insisted. "we can make this work without affecting your job."

determined to support you and keep what felt like his only friend on the team, logan decided to take matters into his own hands. he arranged a meeting with the team management, his confidence unwavering.

"she’s a valuable asset to this team," logan argued passionately. "her work is impeccable, and she’s extremely committed—even with how negative everything seems right now. it’s not fair to ask her to choose between her job and her relationship."

his words seemed to surprisingly resonate with the management, who began to see the unfairness of their request, and after some deliberation, they agreed to let you stay, recognizing your contributions to the team and the dedication you had shown.

you had never been so grateful before, and the gratitude you showed logan almost made your boyfriend jealous. he couldn’t be though. not when he was just as thankful towards his american friend.

as your relationship continued to flourish, you and oscar found ways to navigate the challenges of your respective careers. sneaking away to see each other on the weekends and convincing the team to let you stay in his hotel room, you cherished every second you got together while still being careful to maintain professionalism at the track.

despite the continued subtlety of your relationship, he relentlessly supported you through the challenges of your job, always there to listen and offer advice, and you did the same for him. the bond you shared deepened, filled with late-night talks, shared dreams and a love that felt completely unshakable.

one evening, after a particularly grueling day, oscar takes you out for a quiet dinner. he holds your hand across the table, his eyes filled with warmth. “i’m proud of you,” he says softly. “for everything you’ve handled, for standing strong.”

you smile, squeezing his hand. “i couldn’t have done it without you.” thinking for a moment, you add: “or logan.”

oscar chuckles at your words. “yeah, he’s been quite amazing too.”

after dinner, you join logan for a movie night, a tradition that started when you first joined the team. as the movie plays, you sit nestled against oscar, logan on the other side of the couch. at one point, logan looks over, pretending to be annoyed.

“you know,” he says with mock exasperation, “i really don’t want to be the third wheel here.”

you laugh, reaching over to nudge him playfully. “sorry, logan. but you’re stuck with us. it’s your own fault, really.”

he grins, shaking his head. “yeah, yeah. just don’t get too cozy over there.”

as the movie continues, you feel a deep sense of contentment. despite the challenges, you’ve found a way to balance your job and your relationship with oscar, thanks to logan’s unwavering support and your own determination. the three of you have become a close-knit team, navigating the highs and lows of the racing world together.

in those quiet moments, surrounded by the people who mean the most to you, you realize that no matter what obstacles come your way, you’ll face them with courage and love. with oscar (and logan) by your side, you can conquer anything.

[forfucksakesniall]

"Car's Outside" - part 1

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Summary: You're a struggling Formula 1 driver who joins Lewis Hamilton's family on a holiday, discovering unexpected connections and a sense of belonging that transcends the track and redefines your perspective on family and racing.

Word Count: 3090

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Contains mature content and explores complex themes. Please be aware that it may also include scenes of high-speed racing, accidents, intense emotions, emotional conflicts, personal growth, and intimate moments. Reader discretion is advised.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

You're a driver for the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team and your teammate is Lewis Hamilton. Lately, you've been experiencing a string of bad races with incidents like DNFs and collisions with other drivers. It's been frustrating for you and affecting your performance, and it's becoming apparent to everyone around you. After the worst race of your life, you're heading back to the paddock.

"For fuck's sake, why does it always have to be me?" you mutter.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Lewis's dad, Anthony Hamilton, waving at you on your way. You walk right past him until someone grabs your arm. Irritated, you shoot them a glare, but your eyes soften as you realize who it was.

"I've been calling out to you from a mile away. Where were you?" he chuckles.

"I'm not sure... I've been distracted by something," you respond, avoiding mentioning what happened earlier.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" he asks, seeming eager to share something.

"Um, yeah, sure," you reply, not fully engaged in the upcoming conversation.

He extends his arm in a gentlemanly way, and you take it, walking together toward the paddock. He leads you to a table where you both sit down.

"So..." he begins, looking at you and rubbing his hands.

"Um... hi?" you greet with a smile, unsure of what's happening.

"I know you've had a rough start, and I was thinking I could offer you some help."

"Oh, I'm fine. I don't think I need anything... um... yeah," you respond, feeling embarrassed and frustrated that Lewis Hamilton's dad has to address this with you.

"I can see it's been challenging for you, (Y/N). It's not about more training or spending time on the simulator. It's about finding a genuine love for what you do," he explains, pausing briefly and then smiling at you.

"What I'm saying is... I'm inviting you to join us for a little break from everything. It's Easter soon, and I know you usually prefer to have some time to yourself, but wouldn't it be better if you got closer to your teammate and have a change of view?"

You and Lewis have never been close friends, perhaps due to the chaos you've caused on the track or because you weren't good enough to be on the team, making him not even acknowledge your existence. You've never had a conversation or even exchanged a nod. Everything people see online is just PR to avoid any controversy.

What confuses you is the fact that you're being invited to their family holiday. You! Someone who has no connection to them whatsoever. Well, you and Anthony had formed a father-daughter bond. He would motivate and encourage you during race week. Your own family has never been close or supportive when it came to racing. Since then, you've worked hard for everything you have and have become independent, not relying on anyone.

You simply blink at his offer, lost for words.

"Lewis!" Anthony calls out as Lewis enters the paddock. "(Y/N) and I were just talking, and I invited her to join us on our holiday."

Lewis looks at his dad, eyebrows furrowed. "Um... Did you ask her, or are you taking her hostage?" He glances at you and then back at his dad.

"You can say no, you don't have to do everything he says," Lewis tells you without even looking in your direction.

"Um... yeah, I don't think I should disturb your family matter," you say, standing up and making your way to your driver's room.

Anthony lets out a disappointed sigh upon hearing Lewis's comments. "I told you she needs our support," he tells Lewis, his eyes filled with sadness.

"You don't know her well enough to know what she needs," Lewis retorts sharply, then turns and heads to his room.

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

As you prepare to leave and head to the parking area, a smiling Anthony calls out to you from a distance. You jog over to him, not wanting to keep him waiting.

"Hey, I'm sorry for turning down your offer. I thought it might be awkward for..." you begin to explain.

"Oh no, you're coming!" Anthony interjects.

"What?"

"We're leaving right now," he informs you.

"Huh?"

He gently puts his arm around your shoulder and guides you towards a van. You spot Lewis sitting by the window, and Anthony nudges you to get in, making you sit between the two Hamiltons.

Initially, your thoughts race:

Wait... Where did he say we were going?

I don't have a bag with me...

Wait... Where is my passport?

Lewis remains silent, engrossed in his phone as you sit beside him. Anthony wears a smug smile, satisfied that his plan is unfolding as intended.

"Um... Thank you. I guess, for having me... I'm still not sure what's happening," you express, uncertain.

Anthony chuckles in response.

"Here." He hands you your bag. Opening it, you find your passport and other essential items for the airport.

"We are leaving?" you ask, staring at the contents of your open bag.

"But I don't have any clothes with me," you point out to him.

"I've already taken care of that. You'll get some once we arrive in London," he assures you.

"London?"

He smiles at you once more.

You glance at Lewis, who continues to ignore you, still fixated on his phone, unwilling to address the situation.

You take a deep breath.

Well, at least I'm getting a free getaway, you think to yourself.

You arrive at the airport, a crowd of flashing cameras blinds and disorients you. Unsure of where you are standing, someone suddenly appears behind you, guiding you through the airport. Despite being trailed by a swarm of cameras and paparazzi, you manage to make it inside. Curiosity pokes you to turn around and see who helped you.

To your surprise, it's Lewis, and you hadn't realized how close you were standing to each other. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as the realization sinks in, and you take a step back. Both of you lock eyes, and he gazes back at you with disregard. The words fail to escape your mouth, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air.

Should I say something?

He probably wouldn't care if I thanked him.

"Alright, that was one step closer to home," Anthony exclaims, breaking the uncomfortable silence, his words drawing attention away from the awkward encounter.

You all boarded the plane, found your seats, and finally allowed yourself to relax. You settled in, trying to create a cozy space for yourself, determined to block out any distractions or disturbances around you. It was time to take a well-deserved rest after everything that had happened.

You round the corner, fully focused and determined, a sudden jolt of impact from behind throws you off balance. The unexpected collision shatters your concentration, and the car swerves off its path, rushing toward the barrier at an alarming speed.

Then, your car slams into the unyielding concrete barrier in a sickening crunch. The impact is overwhelming, causing the car to jolt violently. The immense force propels you forward, pressing your body against the seatbelts and contorting you under its unrelenting pressure.

You awaken from the nightmare, your throat dried and your back drenched in sweat. Gasping for breath, you gradually return to reality, only to find Lewis sitting in front of you, a concerned expression on his face. You scan the surroundings for a water bottle, but none is within reach. Unexpectedly, he offers you his bottle—the one he always keeps close, guarded from anyone else's touch.

You hesitate to accept it, but the dryness in your throat triggers a fit of coughing. 

"Just take it," he insists. Reluctantly, you grasp the bottle, bringing it close to your lips, and you glance at him again. His gaze remains fixed on you, carefully observing your body language.

"Were you dreaming about the crash again?" he asks you, his tone empty of emotion.

"Why would you care?" you snap, a touch of bitterness seeping into your words.

So now you can talk?

He simply stares at you, his silence carrying a weight of its own.

"Yeah," you finally admit, looking down at your lap, feeling the lingering pain in your head from that fateful day, as if it wants to force you to relive. You place your hand on the back of your head, swallowing and exhaling deeply.

Lewis abruptly stands up and departs without uttering another word.

Hmm... He left me his beloved sippy cup, you think to yourself.

Finally, you arrive in London after what feels like forever, and you retrieve your suitcase, realizing that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time with the Hamiltons. On the way to the car, you find yourself once again sandwiched between the Hamiltons.

I can't escape this situation anymore. Well, I'll be surrounded by them regardless, so I might as well get used to it.

Sitting there in silence, it dawns on you that you haven't bought anything for them, feeling a pang of embarrassment. "Um... Anthony? Is it okay that I didn't bring any gifts for your family? It's already embarrassing enough to join you on this holiday. I could have at least gotten you guys something..."

"Oh, don't be silly," he reassures you, a warm smile on his face. "You are part of the family now, so don't worry about those things."

His words bring a smile to your face, and he reciprocates the gesture.

Gazing out of the car window, you take in the sights of Stevenage, London. The vibrant town envelops you, with a blend of historical and modern buildings lining the bustling streets.

The journey through the streets of Stevenage, London immerses you in a sensory delight. The blend of sights, sounds, and scents creates a vibrant tapestry of city life. Every step fills you with a growing excitement and curiosity, as you eagerly explore the streets, eager to uncover the hidden treasures that lie within.

Arriving at their house, you're greeted by a charming, quaint home with a small garden decorating the front. You can't help but admire the beauty of it all, puts a smile on your face.

"Let's go inside," Anthony invites you, breaking you out of your trance.

Before taking another step, you turn around, quickly checking yourself in the reflection of your phone. You make a few adjustments to your hair, brushing off any specks of dust from your clothes. Taking a deep breath, you give yourself a pep talk, “Don’t be awkward or say anything weird, okay?”

You hear a chuckle behind you and turn to find Lewis smirking at your words. "Can't be helped," he remarks casually.

Wait, did he just make a joke? You're taken aback, his demeanor seemingly different from what you expected.

He walks into the house, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape. Lewis appears to have a new side to him.

You step into the house and are warmly welcomed by Anthony's wife. She greets you with a hug and expresses her hopes that you will enjoy your stay. Grateful for their hospitality, you thank her sincerely.

"Come in, come in," she invites you further in. As you make your way through the hall with your luggage, you enter the living room. There, you see Lewis playfully interacting with his niece and nephew, laughter filling the air. The room is decorated with family photos and cherished remembrances, giving you a glimpse into their close bond.

The children catch sight of you and excitedly run toward you. 

"We know you!" they exclaim. "We see you on TV all the time!"

Surprised and touched, you engage with them. "You watch the races?"

"Yeah! We see you and Sir uncle all the time!" they happily reply, embracing you tightly. Their genuine affection warms your heart.

"You guys are too sweet," you say, unable to contain your smile. They giggle mischievously before returning to play with Lewis.

Anthony appears from the corner of the room. "Alright, would it be alright if you stayed in Lewis's room for tonight?" he asks.

"Oh, umm... sure. But where will-"

"Don't worry about him, he's a grown man," Anthony reassures you, leading you to Lewis's room. He opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

"This isn't his room, but since he visits us often, we call it that and some of his stuff are here," Anthony explains.

"Anthony," you pause, looking at him gratefully.

He meets your gaze. "Thank you for having me stay here. It's nice. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"You better," he responds, playfully teasing you.

You chuckle, appreciating the lightheartedness of the moment, and walk around the room, ready to make yourself at home in this new environment.

At night, the Hamilton family has a nice dinner together. The room looks cozy with soft lights. The table is set nicely with fancy dishes, shiny silverware, and colorful flowers.

The food smells delicious and makes you hungry. It tastes great, with different flavors from juicy roasted meats to tasty sides and salads. Everyone is happy and talking, creating a joyful atmosphere.

The Hamiltons are excited about their upcoming trip to Bali. They talk about the beautiful beaches, nature, and culture there. 

You see how close the family is and how they take care of each other. They listen and understand each other, showing the importance of real relationships. Being here teaches you that family is more than just blood. It's about the connections we make with people who appreciate us. At this moment, you feel like part of their family, embraced by their warmth. Seeing their passion and support inspires you to pursue your interests. Their belief in you boosts your confidence.

In this special moment, You vow to nurture and cherish the connections that bring care and passion into your life. As you feel accepted at this table, you realize that you're never truly alone because a family can be found in the hearts of those who care for you unconditionally.

"What does your family do on holidays?" one of the kids asks you.

"Oh, umm..." you begin to respond, but Lewis interrupts you.

"You don't need to answer that," he says, tickling the child to divert their attention from the sensitive topic.

"It's okay," you say, smiling at Lewis. "Well, usually I go on solo holidays because my family is usually busy." You still cling to that excuse, even though deep down you know your family wouldn't care as much.

"Where did you go last time?" the children ask, their innocent eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

"I went to Japan, and it was absolutely beautiful," you reply convincingly, even though they are just children who would believe anything you say.

They continue asking you questions, and you answer them sincerely until...

"I heard from the TV that you got in an accident," they say, unaware of the weight of their question.

Suddenly, your ears ring, and your hand instinctively goes to the back of your head.

"Okay, I think it's bedtime," Lewis declares, diverting their attention.

"But she hasn’t told-"

"Time to go," Lewis effortlessly carries them out of the room.

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

You find yourself sitting on the bed, possibly due to jetlag or simply because you're in the room of a seven-time world champion. A mischievous thought crosses your mind, urging you to snoop around, while another voice suggests taking something valuable and selling it on eBay. The conflicting thoughts leave you undecided.

Realizing your phone battery is low, you desperately search your bag, hoping to find a charger. However, to your dismay, there is no charger to be found. Frustrated, you grab your luggage in the hope of finding a charger there, but your search proves wrong. Defeated, you let out a sigh.

Perhaps someone is still awake and you could borrow a charger from them. With a glimmer of hope, you open the door and notice light coming from the living room. Your spirits lift momentarily, only to deflate when you see Lewis sitting there with his laptop, absorbed in who knows what.

"Hey, umm... I forgot to bring my charger. Could I borrow yours?" you ask Lewis, keeping your gaze on his laptop.

"How do you forget your own charger?" he responds with a hint of sass.

"Well, I didn't know about this trip until recently," you sassily reply.

"And someone else packed my bag for me," you add, realizing that arguing won't get you anywhere when you really need that charger. He reluctantly hands it over and returns to his laptop.

As you turn to leave, the tension between you both becomes real. In a moment of vulnerability, you express your concerns to him, "I know we aren't friends, and maybe you hate me or something," you begin, your voice filled with a hint of vulnerability.

"But I hope I don't make this trip uncomfortable for you. If you want me to leave, I will, so I don't disturb your holiday..."

Lewis pauses for a moment, surprised by your unexpected words. The honesty in your voice catches him off guard, making him reconsider his preconceived notions about you.

"No, it's okay," he responds, his voice softer now. "I don't hate you, and I don't want you to leave. We can try to make the best of this trip, even if things are a bit awkward between us. Let's just focus on enjoying the holiday."

You nod, a flicker of relief crossing your face. "Alright then. Let's try to make it work."

With a small smile, Lewis bids you goodnight and retreats to his room, hoping that this newfound understanding will help ease the tension and be comfortable for the rest of the trip.

You return to your room feeling baffled by your conversation with Lewis as if you were speaking to someone entirely different. Nevertheless, you lie back on the bed and plug in your phone to charge. You can't help but think about selling this charger later.

As fatigue sets in, you gradually drift off to sleep, caving to the embrace of slumber.

🌟 Attention, fellow readers! 🌟

You have the power to shape this story too! Share your questions, predictions, and ideas. Let's dive deeper into this journey together.

🌟Taglist:🌟

@omgsuperstarg @copper-boom @notleclerc

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so I just read the blurb about cannibal and reader going north to avoid family drama and that got me thinking !!

what if reader went to dorne and arrived at sunspear during the name day celebration of qoren martell eldest daughter (who is also the heir to dorne) and reader is invited to dine with the martell as a special guest.

the martell's have a lot of questions for her. here are a quotes I came up with from the dinner conversations:

a martel prince - "so which colour do you bare in this brewing war. black or green?"

reader - "neither, my loyality is to myself and my dragon. the highborns can do as they please, but I will not allow myself and my dragon to be turned into pawns so incestious maniacs can war over an ugly-looking metal chair and matching hat"

qoren martell - "there must be somthing special about your blood, as it is not everyday that someone who is not a targaryen claims a dragon."

reader - "there is not much special prince qoren, if you were to cut me now and smear my blood next to another hundred common borns I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

and then the eldest daughter (who is clearly into reader) asks to ride cannibal and begs her parents to let her (they reluctantly agree) but reader needs a bit more convincing.

heir princess of dorne - "I am not scared"

reader - "it is not a question of being scared or not. it is the question of if cannibal will eat you or not."

okay now stay with me on this what is reader rubs her sent (like an item of her clothing) on the princess to decrease the chances of cannibal eating her. and the two go for a flight and end up kissing which cannibal isn't to happy with. and the two girls def end up becoming a lot more than just friends. heheh hope you like this idea feel free to ignore it if it's shit <3

I hope this was alright for you, sweetheart. Sorry if it seems a little clunky in some places.

I love the idea that people have heard news of reader being a non-Valyrian who claimed the wildest of all dragons, and are just naturally curious as to what makes them unique for Cannibal to finally yield and take up a rider.

It’s a mystery that no one will ever know, not even reader cuz they’re probably just as confused about that. However it isn’t something that you want to delve in deeper because you were well aware that many houses, both big and small, had their eyes on you and were anxious.

Houses such as Bracken, Blackwood, Celtigar, Tully, lannisters, Baratheon’s, Starks, Greyjoy, Aryn etc. The realm holds its breath whenever you pass by on Cannibal, halting all forms of conflict as you soared above them unbothered. You just wanted to be left alone and you could feel that Cannibal felt similar.

You knew from stories that to doubt your bond with a dragon was dangerous but your bond with cannibal was forged out of your common desire, to be able to be free to live how you felt fit, free of the personal agendas of the highborn.

So when you arrived at Dorne, you were easily spotted by the royal family and were greeted in kind as a guest on the behest of the princess of Dorne herself, who was quick to cling onto your arm and smile as you spoke while Cannibal watched on, tired of yet another person filling to hide their seemingly immediate infatuation with you. He only hopes that you were asked for your hand…again.

So once you arrived to dinner, the questions were quick to spill and you answered them in quick succession.

‘The throne is rather ugly, I see no reason to fight over it when I’d rather have it burned.’ You told them as you sipped from your goblet, trying to not be affected by the way that the Dornish princess was rubbing the back of your hand softly, sweetly. ‘Besides people have already forgotten the cause of this war and are too fickle to remember as they’re too eager in spilling blood.’ You add.

Qoren Martel, with wise eyes, leaned forward. ‘You are a nomad? You fly no flag for either cause?’

‘No.’ You tell her.

‘Why? Were their offers not sufficient for you? Did gold and glory not arise any temptation within you?’ Qorne pressed as a silence befell the table as you felt the eyes of the princess and prince on you, but you were far too use to the questions being asked as they were the same you’ve heard from the likes of Alicent, Otto, Rhaenyra and Daemon.

You were the wild card they didn’t see nor expect and now we’re trying to quell you and Cannibal before the war reached a point where Dragons were brought into it. You were Cannibal’s counterpart in human skin as he was yours in dragon scales, you two were a force to be reckoned with and you had yet to engage in combat.

‘The thoughts of riches and glory and power is enough to tempt even the strongest man in Westeros, I however value things that go beyond such.’ You told her.

‘And what is that?’ Qorne inquired, raising her brow, curiosity taking over her as it did Dornish prince beside her as he too leant in close to her your words.

‘To find peace, to be left alone and out of the minds of every person in the realm. There was a reason cannibal never left his cave and yet, he came out for me and now he will not know rest because of me, and I want him to find rest be it with or without me.’ You tell her as you thought about how tired Cannibal had become during your journey, you could feel the ache of his bones as though it were you who were tired, you loved Cannibal and respected him immensely but you didn’t wish to have him suffer for the greed of others.

From a distance Cannibal lets out a groan, as though feeling your emotions through your bond to let you know that he made his choice in his rider, and that he did not liked his choice to be one of contention if his rider is feeling strongly about his wellbeing. For he was a dragon of old Valyria and could handle more than what was given to him now.

Stubborn old fool. You thought to yourself.

I heard you little one. You then heard cannibal speak in your mind, his voice a low timbre that could be felt within your chest, through your bones and more. You weren’t certain if Aemond, Aegon, daemon or the others could heard the voices of their dragons within their one head, or if you were the only one who had achieved such a thing; Either way it was just another thing that made you feel even more alone.

‘You put the realm at risk for the sake of your dragon?’ The Dornish prince asked as though the thought befuddled him.

‘It is not I who will torch Westeros.’ You reminded him, ‘it’s the Targaryen’s that are currently infighting right now who will, in merely a commoner who just so happened to be favoured by a god.’

‘A god? You consider your dragon on equal footing with the gods?’ The princess next to you asked eagerly as she gripped your hand.

‘Shouldn’t we all?’ You rhetorically replied before carrying on. ‘The Targaryens have fooled themselves into thinking their superior due to their control over them, a fallacy I call it, but if you take away their control. So who’s to say that they can’t be cut down like any other man regardless of social status.’ You looked into Qoren Martel’s eyes when you say this as a look of understanding passes over her face.

‘Can I ride with you on Cannibal?’ The princess asked suddenly and you almost chocked on your drink as Qorne was quick to voice her displeasure at her daughter’s brashness.

‘Of course you cannot.’ She barked, ‘that beast will seat no other than his rider.’ She then looks over to you, ‘am I correct in that assumption?’

‘Of course!’ You replied quickly as you aided in her attempts to prevent the princess from doing anything reckless. ‘Cannibal will not permit anyone other than me to ride upon his back, he’s…’ you paused as you looked behind yourself to see Cannibal reach up and feast upon a flock of birds passing by, ‘…well he’s as the legend of old speak of.’

The princess didn’t seem pleased with your answer as she stared you down. ‘I can handle it.’

You and Qorne Martel shared a look across the table that spoke of exhaustion that felt as though lasted for hours on end until it was broken by a sigh. ‘Fine you may fly with our guest on Cannibal but on one condition.’

‘Anything mother.’ The princess said, back straightened.

‘Come right back.’ Qorne said with finality as the princess was quick to grab you by the arm and drag you towards cannibal but before she was about to mount him, you pull her back and she looked at you with furrowed brows. ‘Why did you stop me?’

You didn’t speak a word but rip a piece of your clothing from your person and began rubbing it on the princess wrists, neck, cheeks and arms. ‘Protecting you.’ You said afterwards, letting go of her arm as she quickly mounted cannibal who gave you a look before you mounted him.

‘Hold on tight princess.’ You whispered in the beautiful woman’s ear as you reached past her and patted Cannibal twice before gripping the princess by her waist, pulling her close to your front as you took off to the skies above.

Cannibal wasn’t at the least impressed, and was even made more so when he looked behind to see that the princess had your face held between her hands as she leant in for a kiss. You didn’t make any moves to stop her as you indulged yourself in her sweet lips, heavenly and intoxicating as she was as you closed your eyes. Who’d knew kissing in the sky would be as romantic as you initially thought?

Cannibal only huffed as he continued to fly onward, he’ll let you have this one moment, you’ve been more then deserving of it for what the realm has put you both through.

[vaultureculture]

Meet my Guardians :) [part 1?]

I have been playing Eldarya ever since I was 14. For the past few years, I had been reading the story religiously, mixing in headcanons to fill plot-holes, and  fleshing out Erika until she became something entirely different. 

Her character soon split into my three mains, all of whom I will introduce to you all in this post! In my Eldarya AU, they all exist in the same universe, and the three of them play crucial roles in the Oracle’s prophecy. I will develop them more as time goes by hmhm

1-Monnika

Name: Monnika Defreine (she/her)

Birth date: 14th November  [  ♏︎  ]

Age: 22

Species: Faelienne (Aengel+Human)

MBTI: INFP

Guard: Absynthe Guard

Familiar: Lillith (Bâkhrâhell)

LI: Leiftan (both in TO and in ANE)

Occupation in the Guard of Eel: She has taken on the role of a teacher for many children inside the H.Q’s walls. She specializes in lyrical poetry and composition. Whenever she is free from her teaching job, she adventures out into the forest to collect ingredients for ointments and potion spells. 

Sub-occupation: Trained alchemist, Oracle visualizer. Monnika has frequent premonitory dreams and visions featuring the Oracle, but she cannot understand them nor speak in their tongue. Her visual communication with the Oracle is important regardless, and she’s the most attached to it.  

Weapon of choice: Sword

Pros: Forgiving, educated, compassionate, patient, reliable. 

Cons: A push-over, easily biased, indecisive, self-victimizing, very edgy.

Monnika follows the more “canon Erika” path. She is the only one of the main three to have come from Earth through the portal we see at the beginning of the game. She is also the only one to retain an element of Aengel blood, albeit stronger than Erika’s. The option was ruled out for canon Erika, but Monnika is indeed adopted and a faelienne. She’s aware of her adoption but does not know anything else about her background, nor has she cared to know.

In her childhood, she was often reported to affect nearby light and energy sources. Her parents believed her to simply be sensitive to electromagnetic fields. This explanation is usually given to spiritual mediums: The energy they accumulate is said to be what causes paranormal phenomena around them. 

Once she crossed the portal into Eldarya, she began regulating her Maana, and her powers started manifesting more. The eventual blood transfusion and ‘soul-tethering’ with Leiftan jumpstarted a physical transformation, leaving her stuck out of her human disguise. Now, do not let her edgy appearance fool you: she is an Aengel. 

Monnika's form is inspired by traditional Seraphims— that is, ominous balls of eyes and feathers. Her blood is ancient, and her outside reflects it:  Upon transforming, all of her grows in size monstrously. She prostrates, back heavy with wings, as blazing white light fills her sockets. Her spindly fingers dig into the soil, like the feeble limbs of a black widow spider. She is one with the earth her mother bore her from; in her presence, one feels as though judgment is neigh.

There are no reasons to fear her, though, for she is kind and reserved. Monnika finds joy in tranquility and avoids company most of the time. After her initial transformation, she grew more distant, ashamed of her new condition. Her human blood keeps her from smoothly regulating her powers, so she is stuck in her angel form from the first time it occurs to the end of the War for Eldarya, before the 7-year coma. With training, she is finally able to change back to a more human disguise. 

Leiftan and Monnika are, indeed, soulmates. She always felt herself gravitate towards him and followed this attraction without remorse. Her alliance stands with Leiftan and with Leiftan only, which made her position in TO quite complicated. Her lover's crimes were heinous, but her eagerness to build bridges between them again kept her from understanding the seriousness of it all. After their coma, her spirit and trust are broken by Leiftan's distance. She's then left to pine from afar, desperately trying to comprehend how she's supposed to live with half a heart.  

2-Astraea

Name: Astraea Varma (she/her)

Birth date:  5th March [ ♓︎ ]

Age: 24

Species: Euryhalin nomadic mermaid

MBTI: ISFJ

Guard: Obsidian Guard

Familiar: Thetis (Blobbiathan)

LI: Valkyon (TO) & Mathieu (ANE) 

Occupation in the Guard of Eel: Unwilling to find herself (or her peers) wounded and helpless in the midst of battle, she started working as a nurse under the protection of Ewelein. Her eagerness to learn and help others soon turned her into a sponge for medical knowledge.

Sub-occupation: Obsidian infantry soldier, Crystal fragment detector. Astraea can easily sense the presence of crystal fragments, corrupted or not. She can easily follow them to where they are, as if they left a visible trail. 

Weapon of choice: Hammer or enchanted fists. 

Pros: law-abiding, empathetic, just, optimistic, fun to be around. 

Cons: Inflexible, holds grudges, bad loser, stubborn, quick to judge.  

Astraea washed up on a small stream that crosses the forest of Eel. She was found by Ykhar and Alajéa on the noon of the same day that Monnika appeared in the Crystal Room. Astraea had no recollection of her journey upon waking up beside the fact that she was looking for something significant. She made allusions to it being noted down in her journals, all of which she lost in the last half of her trip. 

She comes from a clan of Euryhalin nomadic mermaids, aquatic creatures who can travel both through rivers and oceans according to migratory seasons. These migration patterns are marked by the moon and the stars, so these mermaids are essentially nocturnal. This is similar (if not the same, even) to the structure and tradition of Alajéa and her sister Colaïa’s clan. The likeness between Alajéa and Astraea’s experiences will eventually strengthen the bond between them, and make them grow closer than ever— despite the initial moments of sourness. The only thing that could throw a spanner in the works is Astraea's distaste for Karenn, Alajéa's best friend. The breach between them is no different in ANE, as Karenn's overall demeanor is quick to make Astraea's blood boil.

Despite being an Obsidian, Astraea fears conflict and very much dislikes harming others. She is not one to await battle with a smile, nor is she an outstanding warrior by herself. Nevertheless, it is her wit, perseverance, and fairness that landed her on that guard. Moments of doubt, like passing mists, may have clouded her self-perception; She may have broken down many times but always stood up again to dedicate more effort to her cause. She fights when necessary, using her knowledge in enchantments to gather up fists of rocks as her weapons.

Incredibly passionate about justice and discipline, Astraea held the Obsidian chief Valkyon in high regard. He became one of her confidants in the tortuous search for her memories; then, a partner to stand by as the world caved in. After the War and the 7-year coma, Astraea withdrew into isolation, grieving over the loss of her lover and mentor. The cherry tree that once was Valkyon’s shelter is now Astraea’s place of reflection— a deep, melancholic pondering only Mathieu, a new friend, and Sonzaishinai, an old friend, can get her out of. 

3)Sonzaishinai

Name: Hélène “Sonzaishinai” Müller(she/her)

Birth date:  20th May [ ♊︎ ]

Age: 25

Species: Nocturnal fae (moth variant)

MBTI: ENTP

Guard: Shadow Guard

Familiar: Skade (Owlett)

LI: Nevra (TO) & Lance (ANE)

Occupation in the Guard of Eel:  Hélène had always shown a questionable interest in the archives of the H.Q. When Ykhar offered her to work as an adjoined archive librarian, she could not pass it up. She knows the catalogue by heart and has gathered a bunch of...information that may be of use to her. 

Sub-occupation: Master archer, Oracle interpreter. Sonzaishinai has auditory hallucinations featuring the Oracle. She is able to understand her tongue and speak in the Ancient tongue of Eel, thus being able to interpret many crucial pieces of information. 

Weapon of choice: Bow and arrow.

Pros: Diplomatic, humorous, witty, loyal, affectionate. 

Cons: Hides information, violent under stress, impulsive, patronizing. 

Sonzaishinai was brought to the H.Q disheveled and delirious by a group of local Purreko merchants. They had accused her of theft (bread? a dragon tear? so they said), and she was thrown into a cell pre-emptively. Nevertheless, her worn-down state and the lack of evidence ended the trial period rather quickly. For lack of planning and information about her, she was kept in jail for an extra day. Sonzaishinai was in prison at the same time as Monnika. The 'masked man' freed both, and the girls parted ways at the Hall of Doors. 

As a disoriented newcomer, Sonzaishinai was granted shelter. She was allowed three days to recover and decide on her fate. She would either hit the road and return to her homeland or commit to becoming a productive citizen of Eel— by settling and supporting local markets, or joining the staff. Her affairs were thoroughly searched, and nothing was found but a couple notebooks filled with inscriptions in an alphabet unknown. Under questioning, Sonzaishinai soon proved to be, somehow, proficient in languages galore, many of them forgotten and unused. 

She soon joined the same recruit program as Monnika and Astraea...not without the Guard's persuasion, of course. There, Sonzaishinai and Astraea grew close beyond belief. They learned to lean on each other, bound by laughter and blind trust. Sonzaishinai considers Astraea a sister and does not hesitate to call her so— while Astraea always goes to Sonzaishinai for guidance. In ANE's weapon giving ceremony, Hélène chooses to call her new bow (it is Monnika who gets the sword) "Astraea", for she believes the younger mermaid to be her protection and good luck charm.

The nickname "Sonzai Shinai" was given to her by a guard colleague from the Jade Coast. It is a verbal expression of Japanese origin, meaning "there is not", "it does not exist". The culprit behind Hélène's telling nickname is no other than her silence: One can barely hear her arrive, and she always seems to appear as suddenly as she fades away. With time, she fully adopted the nickname, and nobody really calls her Hélène anymore—with rare exceptions.

Nocturnal faes are beings as mysterious and charming as they are dangerous. Most of them present themselves as delicate young women, who seem far too attractive or even stuck in time, never aging.  Behind their lips, however, hide sharp teeth. They are carnivorous and oftentimes conniving, some even venomous, just like the habitats or plants they frequent. It depends on the individual, of course, but they do not have the best reputation around. Whatever they really are, it is not advisable to seal deals with them. They always have a trick up their sleeve.

Although Hélène can be 100% trusted if you are her ally, she does tend to keep many things a secret. It was her that contacted Lance in TO, never telling Miiko and even asking him to take her along. She built a sense of trust between them that allowed Lance to feel comfortable enough to kidnap her in particular, hoping she'd be the one to understand his goals the most. He'd never thought that she'd know as much as him and that she'd been using him to get new leads the entire time. Despite it all, they were always capable of dialogue, which threatens to come back in an incredibly mentally stimulating way upon their new meeting. 

Regarding Nevra, Sonzaishinai had always felt a strong, nurturing love towards him. He'd proven to be an ambitious brat with too big of an ego one too many times, but his light-heartedness and genuine attachment got to her rather quickly. Upon waking up after the 7-year coma, she did not recognize the moody and regretful man before her. He'd promised to love her forever, but now she stood alone spiteful, facing empty words. Despite their falling out, she will always have a soft spot for him and won't doubt to put herself in harm's way for him.

[malfoymxnor]

𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚

➤ pairing: draco malfoy x reader

➤ requested: yes | no

➤ genre: fluff

➤ words: 1k

➤ summary: during potions class, professor slughorn asks you to identify what amortentia smells like to you. draco quickly realizes you were describing scents that relate to him.

“Now, to end the week, I wish to discuss one of the most advanced potions you will have learned during your time at Hogwarts.”

Your Potions professor, Slughorn, slowly walked around the classroom. His eyes roamed around, looking at each student to see who would be the first to volunteer to answer questions. Usually, you would have jumped at the opportunity to prove your intelligence to the class. However, you couldn’t lie in that the mention of a powerful potion intimidated you. Potions was by far your weakest subject, you always had to study extra hard to do well in this class.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N.” Slughorn commented as his eyes landed on you, who was looking down at your textbook to avoid eye contact. “You’re a bright student, you’re up for the challenge. Why don’t you come to the front of the class and answer some questions?”

You let out a soft sigh but smiled a little at the professor, before making your way to the front of the classroom.

“Don’t mess this up, Y/N.” Draco sneered slightly, a playful smile at his lips. You glared playfully back at him. For the entire time you had been at Hogwarts, you and Draco had developed a strange friendship. You weren’t particularly close but between the bond you did share, you were constantly bantering. Of course, this was playful, but that didn’t stop the two of you from roasting each other relentlessly at times.

You stopped a few steps back from the very large cauldron set up in the front, your back facing your classmates. You felt your hands begin to sweat as the nerves set in. You were confident you wouldn’t be able to answer these questions correctly.

“Now, Y/N.” Slughorn continued, talking directly to you instead of the class. “As you can see, this potion has the appearance of sheen, it seems to be pulling you in, doesn’t it? Without looking in your textbook, please tell me the name of this particular potion.”

Your eyes focused on the cauldron in front of you. It really did seem to be pulling you in, perhaps it’s your imagination. Your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your lip as your mind ran through countless names of potions. “I- um..”

Before you continue, a hand shot up and Slughorn called on that student. “It’s Amortentia, also considered one of the most dangerous modern potions, a love potion. Legend says it smells different to everyone, it smells like what you’re attracted to.” You immediately recognized the voice. Mr. Know It All Malfoy.

You turned your head around, looking directly at him. He had another playful smile as he looked at you. “There, wasn’t so hard.” He mouthed at you with his lips, causing you to roll your eyes again.

“Correct, Malfoy! 5 points to Slytherin.” Slughorn rewarded him and turned back to you. “With this new information, miss, please step forward and smell the potion. Everyone else, form a line behind her and write down what you smell.”

The rest of the class was eager to get out of their seats and form a line behind you, Draco was one of them. He shoved a couple Hufflepuffs to make way to you, managing to stand right behind you before you stepped forward.

You took a deep breath and took a few steps forward, your nose directly above the steam coming from the large, black cauldron. You took another breath in and closed your eyes, allowing the scent to overwhelm you. Without thinking, you began to describe the scent aloud.

“I smell wood polish, green apples, and something metallic.”

Before you realized what you had done, the words were already spoken for everyone to hear. Your eyes open and widen. What have you done?

Of course, it makes sense. Every scent relates to that damn Draco Malfoy. You had spent many mornings with Draco in the Quidditch field, talking with him as he polished the wood of his broom with polish. He was known for carrying green apples in his bag as a snack between classes. Draco also was a fan of wearing a couple rings and a small chain around his neck, explaining the smell of metal.

Slughorn and the class applauded as your eyes dropped to the floor, looking at your shoes as you hurried back to your assigned table. You quickly opened your journal, focusing on writing down what you smelled and the assignment Slughorn was sure to assign.

The embarrassment caused you to not even pay attention to what Draco smelled from the cauldron. You were so certain he did not smell anything related to you. After all, he was a Malfoy. He had been seen many times hanging around Astoria and Pansy, he probably smelled them.

2 seconds or 20 minutes could have passed, you’re not sure. But next thing you know, you look up and the classroom is completely empty, or so you thought. You feel someone place their hand on your lower back. You immediately sat up straight, feeling a blush appear on your cheeks.

“Y/N, care to explain yourself?” You hear Draco’s silky voice whisper into your ear. “On second thought, there’s no need. You made it very obviously to the class what, or who, you were attracted to.”

You turned around to face the young Slytherin, opening your mouth to speak. “Draco, I’m sorry. I truly didn’t know I was going to say-”

He silenced you by placing his index finger on your lips, a smirk playing on his face. His hand moved so his palm cradled your cheek, his thumb moving your chin up so you looked into his eyes.

“I didn’t ask for an apology. I came here to tell you something, but perhaps words won’t register for you.”

Before you could come back with a quick remark, you saw him lean closer and close the distance between you two. His hand that was on your lower back pulled you closer in your seat, his lips gently pressed into yours. Your body relaxed into his hands and you felt yourself responding, tangling your fingers into his platinum blond set of hair.

“Meet me in the courtyard after dinner, don’t ask questions.” He said as he pulled away, giving you one last smirk before collecting his bag and walking out of the classroom.

[tsuu-mikii]

glued

chapter two

masterlist

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You spent the next two days avoiding Eren. You knew it was childish, but you were scared of saying something stupid and impulsive. You knew you couldn’t keep it up forever, though. The two of you shared an Oceanography class that took up your general education science requirement. The two of you had picked it together, wanting to share at least one class despite your different majors. You weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse now.

As you prepared to leave the room, a sudden knock at the door ripped you from your thoughts. You turned to Sasha, who’d just returned from her 9 am class and was now lounging on her bed using her phone, “Are you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head no as she continued to scroll through what you assumed was a social media app. You got up and made your way to the door. To your surprise, Eren was the one standing there.

You blinked, “Eren? What’s up?”

He gave a hopeful smile, “You answered. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“What? What made you think that?” you replied, tensing up slightly.

You heard Sasha let out a snort from her spot on the bed, and you turned back to glare at her. You had given her the rundown of what had happened, and she’d clowned you the past two days over how freaked out you were.

“You didn’t respond to any of my texts or Facetimes,” her frowned, “I thought I did something dumb while I was drunk and upset you.”

Guilt began to build up in your chest at how hurt he looked, “I’m sorry, I was just really busy. I’m not upset with you or anything. I promise.”

It was mostly true, too. You weren’t necessarily upset with him; it was more so at yourself, for being so beat up about him having feelings for someone else.

He breathed a sigh of relief before smiling, “I’m glad. I really thought you hated me now or something.”

You smiled back, “I could never hate you, Eren.”

“I would hope not. You’re my favorite person, y’know?” he said with a grin.

For some reason, the words stung. You knew soon enough the person he was in love with would take that spot. While it was inevitable, it still hurt.

You grinned back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you wanna walk to class together? It’s starting soon.” he asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

You simply nodded in response and went to collect your shoes and school bag. As you gathered your things, Sasha gave you a look. You winced, knowing later she’d tease you about your awkwardness.

The two of you walked to class making idle chatter. It was nice, the stress you had built up melting away as you listened to him laugh and crack jokes like he always did.

You entered the lecture hall a bit early, there was a few minutes to spare before the professor arrived. Eren left your side to chat with some fraternity friends while you made your way over to your usual seat.

“Armin, hey!” you slid into the seat next to him, “Good morning!”

He smiled, “Good morning, y/n!”

Armin was a friend to both you and Eren, though he was closer to him than you. He’d been one of Eren’s friends before he transferred schools way back when and had stayed in touch with him ever since. He introduced you to each other when you were in middle school and you’d formed a close bond since then.

“I hate to pry,” he started, face riddled with concern, “but did you and Eren fight or something this weekend? He was all beat up about you not texting him back or responding to his Facetimes.”

You gave a weak smile, “Oh no, of course not! I was just super busy this weekend. We talked it over before we came to class.”

You hated lying to two of your oldest friends, but it wasn’t like you could come out and say ‘ Hey you spilled your guts to me about being in love with someone while you were drunk and now I’m realizing that I might still have feelings for you! ’ or anything.

Armin smiled at your response, “That’s good! He was talking my ear off about it, I swear. He literally had me help him type up an apology in case you were actually mad.”

You laughed at that, you knew how preciously Eren viewed your friendship. Even if he wouldn’t tell you that he liked someone while he was sober.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind. Did Armin know? It would make sense, the two of them had been friends since actual diapers, so it was entirely possible he knew something.

“Hey, Armi-” you were cut off by your professor making his way into class and taking his place at the front. You slid down your chair with a sigh. ‘What was I thinking anyway?’ you thought, ‘It was an invasion of privacy. If Eren wanted to tell me, he would. Right?’

And so you tried your hardest to push your thoughts about it away, hoping that he’d talk to you about it without alcohol coursing through his system soon.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*

The rest of the week passed quickly, with Saturday night rolling back around in no time. Eren hadn’t brought up that night again, so you kept quiet on it also. It was better to just let it be than to push and end up causing problems.

You scanned your eyes over the paper you’d just finished one last time before submitting. As you put away your laptop, Sasha burst through the door.

“Nic and his friends are having a party tonight, do you wanna come with me? They’re putting my playlist on the aux.” she grinned.

You scrunched your face, “Who’s gonna be there?”

“No one you’re not cool with. Come on, live a little!” she shook your arm up and down as she spoke, “It’s Saturday night and I know you’re done with your work for the day. Plus, I know you’ve been all messed up about the whole Eren fiasco, you need to de-stress.”

You pondered for a second, you had been a bit on edge recently. You sighed, “Fine, but only for a few hours, okay?”

Sasha pumped her fists in the air, “Yes! Now get ready. The party started like thirty minutes ago and sweats aren’t gonna cut it today, sweetheart.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and grabbed your shower caddy to go freshen up. After returning to your dorm room you slipped on a black dress that you’d bought ages ago before doing a quick face of makeup and styling your hair.

You rummaged through your shoes to find something suitable before turning to face Sasha. “This ready enough for you?”

“You look hot,” she grinned, “who knows, maybe tonight you’ll pull someone that’ll make you forget about the feeling you may or may not have for our dear friend Mr. Jaeger.”

You laughed, “I’ll settle for a few shots and a good dance. Now let’s go, we’re already late. How are you gonna be late to your own boyfriend’s party?”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, “He’ll live.”

The two of you made your way to the house and got past the person at the door with ease. The party was in full swing, music blared from the speakers and people filled the house with chatter. Sasha’s boyfriend Niccolo was in a different fraternity than Eren, but you still recognized a few guys from the couple of parties you’d been to with him.

Sasha all but bolted when she locked eyes on her boyfriend, leaving you to scan the room for a familiar face. You quickly spotted Connie, Sasha’s best friend, and made your way over to him.

You tapped his shoulder causing him to turn around. When he realized it was you he pulled you into a quick hug before releasing you, “Hey, y/n! Sasha dragged you out the dorm this weekend?”

“She did,” you laughed, “do you know where I can get a drink?”

He pointed to the bar area on the far side of the frat house’s basement, “Over there, see the guy with the blonde hair? He’s playing bartender tonight. He’ll hook you up.”

You thanked him and weaved your way through the crowd, eager to get some alcohol in your system and let loose a little. You shouted for the attention of the bartender as you approached the bar. He turned to face you and smiled. “I take it you’re here for the alcohol?”

“I am indeed,” you returned his smile, “gimme something strong.”

He wasted no time in mixing up some concoction and handing it to you in a cup. You thanked him and turned to leave, ready to drink and dance away some of the stress of the past week. After wandering the dance floor for a bit, you found yet another familiar face.

“Mikasa!” you beamed, tapping the dark haired girl on the shoulder.

“Y/n,” looked back at your voice and smiled, “you got dragged out of your dorm tonight too?”

“Yeah, but I think I’m actually having a good time!” you grabbed her hand, “Dance with me!”

She laughed at your eagerness but complied anyway. Mikasa had known you for just as long as Eren had. She was his next door neighbor when he moved back in elementary, and the two of you had become acquainted when play dates overlapped. She was often the mediator whenever you and Eren would get into it, making sure the two of you got it together at the end of the day.

The two of you danced for a good amount of time, talking idly about your days and laughing. You’d finished your first drink and were on the same track with your second, the fuzzy feeling the alcohol gave you eating away your worries.

“I hate to leave you, but do you know where a bathroom is?” you asked.

She pointed to a hallway a bit past the bar, and you made your way over to it. You approached the door and knocked a few times to prevent walking in on someone. A slew of hushed drunken giggles came from behind the door at your actions and you cringed. You immediately turned to walk away, feeling awkward over disrupting the couple in there’s hookup.

The door opened before you could get away, though.

“How may I help,” a familiar voice started, “...you.”

You locked eyes with the person, the teal green color was one you knew all too well. “Eren. Hey.” you smiled awkwardly. His hair was tousled and there was lip gloss all over his face.

Eren froze, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“Sasha invited me. Unless you mean the bathroom, which, well obviously I needed to go inside, but since you clearly have it occupied I’m just gonna go back-” you rambled, face flushed.

You knew of Eren’s playboy reputation, but you’d never seen him in the act before. A dull ache panged in your chest, things feeling a bit too real all of a sudden.

“Eren, baby, what’s going on?” the girl in the bathroom chimed in, you couldn’t see her, but she had a pretty voice, you thought.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go find Sasha. See you later, I guess.” And with that, you sped away, ignoring Eren’s shout of your name as you retreated down the hall.

You found Sasha relatively quickly, she was sitting on a couch in a corner of the room with her boyfriend and some other friends. You saw that Mikasa had also made her way over during your trip.

“Y/n, hey!” Sasha greeted when she saw you, obviously tipsy, “come do shots with us!”

On a normal day, you would’ve refused. You liked drinking, but not getting drunk. But you don’t really see your best friend who you may or may not have feelings for mid-hookup on a normal day.

“Hell yes,” you replied.

It was fun drinking with Sasha and her friends. They were just as funny as her, and you found yourself laughing harder than you had in a long time.

You reached for another shot, only to be stopped by Mikasa. “No, y/n. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Whaaaat?” you exclaimed, “I barely drank, right Annie?”

Annie, a friend of Sasha’s, snorted, “Don’t drag me into this.”

“I think you should head back, y/n.” Sasha chimed.

“You guys are all so mean!” you pouted.

“Yeah, you’re done for.” Mikasa stood, “Come on, let’s go back.”

“I don’t want to.” you crossed your arms, you came out to de stress and have a good time, who cared if you had a bit too much to drink?

“You can come to my dorm?” Mikasa offered.

You hummed in thought, a sleepover would be nice. “Fine.”

You grabbed your things and stood up, waving bye to Sasha and her friends. You followed Mikasa through the crowd as she held your hand. On your way out, you passed Eren. You felt childish in your drunkenness and stuck your tongue out with a laugh. If the look of confusion he gave you was anything to go by, he didn’t think it was funny.

When you got back to Mikasa’s dorm, she immediately helped you out of your dress and into some pajamas. She had been blessed with a room all to herself, so she laid you on the spare bed.

“Sleep.” she said, covering you with a blanket.

Your adrenaline had run out, and being nuzzled under the warm blanket she’d given you made you realize how tired you actually were. Sleep claimed you relatively quickly, and you drifted off to the sounds of Mikasa shuffling around her room.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･

a/n: hey besties! not much to say since i’m just trying to catch up on cross posting, but hope y’all enjoyed!

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (5/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M A/N: Angst ;) And Bucky being cute as all hell. Leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!

The sound of Bucky’s door slamming down the hallway resounded like a thud in my chest. At the risk of sounding like a hopelessly romantic, dopey-eyed Omega, it felt like something cracked inside of me.

For the briefest moment in the lounge, I had caught his scent— that Alphacomforthomesafe scent I’d searched for for weeks. Just a hint of it had sent a jolt of electricity, hope and relief through my entire being. We’d locked eyes— his facial expression carefully blank, beard unshaven and growing long, hand gripping white-knuckled into the strap of his duffle bag, before he had fled to his room— leaving behind the confusing, raw scents of guilt and despair behind him.

Natasha and Steve both looked to me in concern, before engaging in a silent conversation through their facial expressions. Both smelled overwhelmingly of unease, but neither said anything to abate the awkward tension suffusing the room. Steve gave a lame excuse for Bucky, looking bewildered as he did so— something about the other Alpha having a rough few weeks, but I quickly bowed out of the lounge, retreating back to my apartment to process the heartbreaking fact that he’d been away, and now that he was back, he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Maybe he was just shy, I thought, self-comforting. But he hadn’t been shy in that cell. He’d been quick to introduce himself, to alleviate my fear by baring his throat to me.

Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable. Had I made him uncomfortable? It’s not like I could stop myself from falling into a sympathy heat, especially under the influence of an Alpha purr.

Then there was the other creeping, dreadful thought that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks: Maybe he already has an Omega.

I hadn’t smelled one on him in that cell, hadn’t felt a bond mark on his neck, but both could have been hidden under the scents of rut and fear, and the filth of our surroundings.

I even briefly worried that he was Wanda’s mate, since I’d never met the Alpha she always spoke about with a soft and wistful smile. But when I tentatively asked after her mate later that night during our evening Full House marathon, she had given me a sad smile and told me he was working off-world.

I barely slept the night after Bucky came home. Knowing that he was just a floor away made the longing even harder, my Omega anxious and desperate for comfort. I shuffled through a hundred different explanations— each more frustrating and heartbreaking than the last— for why he’d been away for so long, why he’d reacted the way he did when he saw me, why his scent had reeked of guilt and sadness.

But above all— my Omega worried viciously whether he was okay. The connection I felt to him burnt bright and hot within me, tugging at my heart. Find Alpha. Comfort Alpha.

I tried my hardest to bury my thoughts deep down, feeling like a crazy person. Bucky barely knew me, and here I was lying in bed, staking a mental claim on him like some feral, unsocialized Omega. For all I knew, he was snuggled up with his bondmate, recovering from the turmoil of our kidnapping in his or her embrace, thoughts of me all but forgotten.

The next day, I moved tentatively around the compound, bracing myself for an interaction. I’d run through one hundred potential scenarios in my mind— one hundred introductions, one hundred apologies, one hundred questions I wanted answered. But one day stretched into two, stretched into a week, without anything more than a flash of his retreating form as he exited the gym before I entered one afternoon.

Despite his intentional or unintentional attempts to avoid me, he couldn’t erase his lingering scent, which tucked itself into every available corner of the compound, driving my Omega insane with want and worry.

Rationally, I knew that the compound smelled like everyone— like determined Steve after a boxing match, like Sam’s bubbly joy over breakfast, like Wanda’s gentle concern, like Natasha’s smug laughter, like Stark’s curiosity.

But even knowing that I could smell everyone didn’t stop my Omega from catching his scent in every room— musky, heady cedar, warm and inviting campfire. It was maddening.

On top of the Alpha scent that left my brain in a muddled haze, there was also the situation with the gifts.

They weren’t really gifts. But, I didn’t know what else to call them.

The first one appeared three days after Bucky returned to the compound.

When I shuffled out to the kitchen around six am for a coffee and some eggs with Sam, I found my favorite mug (a cute green ceramic one made to look like a tin camping cup) already set out on the countertop, along with a spoon, a pot of sugar and a folded napkin. Next to it, the coffee pot was spitting out the last few dregs of brew— fresh and hot.

At first, I thought it was Sam who’d prepped the coffee for me, and a warm smile spread across my face at the Beta’s sincere care and friendship. But then he appeared ten minutes later, still in his camo pajamas, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, and I frowned. Sam and I were the only early risers around here, as far as I knew. But maybe he’d fallen back asleep after getting up to make coffee.

The next day, my yoga mat was missing from its usual spot tucked high into a cubby on the wall in the gym. Figuring I’d left it in Natasha’s training room, I headed in that direction, only to find it rolled up neatly right outside the door, along with a massive, full water bottle and a charged pair of StarkPods. Weird. These Avenger Betas sure do let the hero thing get to their head, I thought. Sure enough, Natasha was already inside, balancing in a graceful arabesque as I readied myself for yoga. I thanked her with a smile and nod, which she returned.

The day after that, Steve and I got way too riled up on our morning run with Sam, and I tried to outpace him (failing, spectacularly) one too many times, causing me to have to limp back home with blisters on the back of my heels from my running shoes. After a shower in my room, I nearly tripped over a little pile of blister bandages and antibiotic cream sitting outside my door, which I snatched up, eager not to have to poke around the medbay for something as simple as band-aids. Even Steve was getting in on this babying nonsense, I thought. Maybe I wasn’t hiding my distressed Omega scent as well as I’d thought, moping around after Bucky.

Later that week, I meandered down to the movie room for another previously scheduled watch party with Sam. I got there about 20 minutes early, planning to stake out my favorite spot before the others arrived, but I found Wanda already in the movie room, flicking through channels on the projector-TV. She was working her way through a bag of crispy Gozinaki— her favorite sweet snack from her childhood in Sokovia. Steve always made sure to keep bags of it stocked in the common kitchen, attentive Alpha provider as he was.

In my usual spot on the shaggy brown couch rested a fluffy, folded plaid blanket, with a pair of soft gloves on top.

“Aw, Wanda, you didn’t have to do this,” I said, scooping up the blanket to tug around my shoulders, my inner Omega shivering in delight at the cozy texture. Perfect for a nest, my mind unhelpfully supplied. The past couple of movie nights, I’d been complaining about my cold hands, especially after long afternoons training with Wanda left my limbs frigid and achy from the force of my abilities. Sometimes it took hours to get my skin back to a human-feeling temperature. I slipped the navy blue gloves on gratefully.

Wanda looked over at my snuggled up form and quirked a brow. “Those were there when I got here. I thought you left them for tonight,” she said curiously.

I looked down at the blanket as if it would give me an answer, then brought it up to my face for a curious sniff. The faintest scent of cedar wood hit my nose.

Alpha.  

I felt a whoosh in my head and stomach, like I was floating away from my body, and knew I must have had a dazed expression on my face.

If Bucky had left the blanket and the gloves… Maybe it wasn’t Sam who’d prepped my coffee. Maybe it wasn’t Natasha with the yoga mat and the water, or Steve with the blister bandages.

But why would Bucky…

“I can hear the gears turning in your brain from over here,” Wanda interrupted. “I take it it wasn’t you who left that pile down here?”

I shook my head, biting my lip as I muddled through my thoughts. If I was going to talk about what I’d been feeling for Bucky with anyone, Wanda would be the least likely to judge. She was a fellow Omega, after all.

“Can I ask you something? About your mate?” I hedged.

Wanda nodded, brushing crumbs from her lap before standing to sit down next to me on the shaggy couch. “Anything.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, and I still haven’t met him. And I wonder— What does it… feel like. For you. When he’s away.”

Wanda smiled, soft and wistful. “My mate is the Vision. He is not really human, but he was programmed as an Alpha, and when we mated, he gave me his mark,” she explained, reaching up to the back of her neck to press her hand to her mating gland. I had seen the shiny silver scars before, when Wanda had swept her hair up into a ponytail off the back of her neck during a training sesh.

“Even though he is not human— he does not have a scent as you or I do— I still struggled with what we Sokovians call gajovi. It means “heart-rending,” the feeling when you are separated from your bondmate. The longer we have been bonded, the easier it is to be apart. But I still sometimes feel the ache. Like a physical pain, inside,” she offered, moving her hand to the center of her chest, the same place where I had felt the same unbearable ache for weeks.

I took a deep breath, willing my scent to stay calm as anxiety, uncertainty and confusion warred in my mind. I feel the same thing.

“Do you ever feel like you need him… to fall asleep?” I asked, cheeks flushing. Even though we had grown close, I still felt uncomfortable asking Wanda about my craving for Bucky’s purr, as it was such an intimate act between mates.

“I have a feeling we are no longer talking about Vision,” she murmured, no judgement on her face. She placed a comforting hand on my knee, and I felt some of the tension in my body release slowly. “Sometimes it feels impossible to sleep. To eat. To even get out of bed. A bond is the most beautiful and powerful connection you can have, but it also makes you vulnerable. When things are bad, I can… feel him. Through the bond. We support each other,” she explained. Wanda closed her eyes momentarily, and I knew she was reaching through her bond to feel her mate, thousands of miles away. A warm smile crept across her face as whatever she was projecting through the universe was returned in kind.

While I was undeniably happy for Wanda and her mate, my heart ached at the realization that I was experiencing the same or similar withdrawal symptoms after my time with Bucky. But without a bondmark on my neck, without the connection she used to draw soothing strength from her mate, I was drifting— alone in a sea of longing and pain.

Wanda scented my sour sadness, giving me an empathetic look. “Do you? Have a bondmate?”

I saw her eyes flick towards my neck, where a bond mark would be, knowing that she had already seen my gland void of any bite scars.

I shook my head, looking down at my still-gloved hands in my lap.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Instead, she placed one hand in mine.

I wondered, then, if she knew more than she was letting on.

“When will Vision be home?” I asked, changing the subject and forcefully shaking off my sadness.

“This month,” she said, unable to hide the smile that crept across her face.

“What’s got the lovely ladies down?” Sam teased, interrupting our moment as he stepped into the movie room with a massive, unopened bag of Cajun-spiced Lays tucked under his arm.

Steve was right behind him, looking cozy in what was probably an XXXL hooded red sweatshirt. He came up behind my couch wordlessly, wrapping me up in a huge bear hug. I laughed, leaning into him and allowing his comforting Alpha scent to wipe away the remaining tendrils of my unease drifting in the air. I’d learned quickly that Steve was generous with his affection, and extremely protective— the type of Alpha an Omega could only dream of finding. Not an aggressive and possessive knothead, but a supportive provider and protector— always there when you needed him, but never overbearing.

Just like Bucky, my brain unhelpfully supplied. I shook away the thought. You barely know him.

I could hardly focus on the movie Sam selected, some Russell Crowe action flick set in Ancient Rome. I was too lost in my thoughts, curled up in the blanket Bucky had inexplicably left for me, squished between Steve and Wanda on the couch.

If I didn’t know better, it would seem like Bucky was trying to court me with these weird offerings, like some old-fashioned, 1940s Alpha would woo an Omega with flowers and chocolates. But even if he was, that didn’t explain his flightiness, or the bond withdrawal-like symptoms I was experiencing, or the frightening possibility that it was just me suffering from them. Faulty Omega.

Either way, after my conversation with Wanda, my resolve had hardened. I had to confront Bucky, even though my inner Omega withered at the thought. I needed to know if he was feeling the same way I was. And if not? Well, then— I’d cleared the air. That was that. I’d give him his space, leaving the compound and the pack behind if I had to. Go back to being on my own.

The thought made my hands tremble.

I clasped them resolutely in my lap, leaning closer into Steve’s absurdly thick bicep for comfort. At least for now, I could enjoy this.

————

Bucky has officially gone insane. After over 70 years of world war, Hydra torture, memory loss, coerced assassinations, cry0 chambers, getting dusted by a purple space god and fighting a war of disgusting aliens, it was one cute but deadly Omega that pushed his ancient Alpha ass over the edge.

After their disastrous reunion in the lounge, Bucky made it his personal mission to evade Y/N at all costs. He knew he was leaving the stink of shame all over the compound— both Steve and Sam called him out on it after they’d watched him flee the gym upon Y/N’s arrival one day— but even his snarling inner Alpha couldn’t get him to soften his resolve. There’s a reason he and Steve were thick as thieves from the jump— they were both infuriatingly stubborn people.

Y/N was happy here. That much was obvious. She left behind that peppermint-and-snow scent wherever she went— sweet with her joy, sharp with her determination— and he caught himself taking deep, pathetic inhales when she’d recently left a room that he’d entered.

In the mornings, he could hear her in the common room kitchen with Sam, laughing and bickering over the smell of eggs and bacon. In the movie room at night, right underneath his apartment, his super-soldier hearing clued him in to the team’s laughs and murmurs, the musical sound of her voice— unintelligible through the floor but soothing to his Alpha ears nonetheless.

He’d watched from a distance through the bulletproof glass a few times as she’d trained in the reinforced rooms with Wanda. Each time he spotted her she looked more and more powerful, more in control of the abilities that Hydra had kept locked away in restraints when they’d met in the cell. Wanda would watch patiently nearby, her red magic coiling along her fingers in anticipation as Y/N breathed in deeply, drawing her hands up in an elegant swoop along her midline before forcing them outwards in a jab, sending a spray of deadly ice shards at the steel wall, where they left hundreds of minuscule puncture wounds. Some days, the two Omegas would spill out a gallon of water on the floor, and Y/N would lift and arc it up into frozen creations, an intricate, jagged weapon or a delicate, curving flower, leafs of ice ivy crawling up the walls or pillars of impenetrable cold built from ceiling to floor.

What tore at him the most, though, even more than her delicious scent, which lingered on everything— and enticed more than a few embarrassing hard-ons he had to flee to his room to hide— was her scent mingled with another Alpha’s.

One Alpha in particular that hurt more than any other.

It hadn’t escaped Bucky’s notice that Y/N and Steve were spending lots of time together. Steve accompanied her on her morning runs— sometimes with Sam, sometimes without— but they always returned to the common areas flushed, sweaty and smiling, pumping out happy, sated pheromones. He’d passed the movie room and the lounge more than a few times to find her curled particularly close to him, his arm around the back of the couch behind her or her head resting against his bicep.

He’d even seen her and Steve sparring in the gym, Natasha and Sam cheering and whooping from the sidelines as she held her own against his restrained moves— a punch here, a kick there, which she dodged and delivered right back. They were comfortable in each other’s space. Comfortable enough that he’d even spotted her sleeping on the red lounge couch next to Steve one day, a book open in her lap while he sketched away in his notebook, using her hand draped off the side as an anatomy study. Her red socked feet were pillowed in his lap.

That mental image had kept Bucky up for a few nights, his Alpha flushed with an instinctual, possessive rage that he shoved shamefully down into the darkest recesses of his brain.

He couldn’t be mad. Even if his Alpha was roaring at him to step forward, to stake his claim, to pick her up and drown her in his scent, to crawl into her nest and cover her completely with his body.

He couldn’t be mad because she had sized up both Alphas and made what even he knew was the correct decision. Of course she had.

Why choose Bucky— broken, red-ledgered, half-vibranium, nightmare-riddled Bucky— when you could have the human embodiment of a golden retriever? Steve. The model Alpha. A gentle, caring provider— never aggressive or out of control, always protective, supportive and calm.

Plus, super-serum aside, Steve had always been handsome. Y/N wasn’t blind.

All of that is to say that Bucky hadn’t meant to start offering her gifts. It was his Alpha instinct, is all. Some feral, competitive nature still ingrained in his hindbrain. An instinct left over from a more primitive civilization, one where he would have had to prove to his Omega that he could be the best provider.

And if nothing else, leaving her the gifts soothed the terrible ache in his chest, helped him sleep another hour at night as he lay there agonizing about her smell, remembering how her face had felt cradled in his neck.

Wondering if she was sleeping in her room alone or curled up in her nest with Steve.

He knew that what he was feeling, what he was doing, was beyond wrong. If she knew why he was leaving her these gifts, she’d feel threatened, or stalked. He would be the creepy Alpha desperate for her attention.

But his hindbrain didn’t care. Alpha will provide.

It first started when he noticed that she always left the same green cup in the sink after breakfast. So one day, he got up early to leave it out for her— alongside a napkin, a spoon and the pot of sugar— though he didn’t yet know how she took her coffee. He also started the coffee pot just in case, slipping back to his room before she woke up, machine still whirring behind him.

Then, he noticed that she always ran out of water halfway through her yoga sessions with Natasha after she almost stumbled upon him in the kitchen the few times she’d come up to refill it. So Bucky topped up a 36 ounce bottle he found in the kitchen instead and left it outside the training room. Just so she won’t get thirsty, he reasoned. He couldn’t resist leaving her the yoga mat and earbuds as well. It was nothing. Not an exorbitant expense. Just something she needed, and would have gotten for herself anyway. What does it matter that he bought them for her first?

Then, he heard Sam ribbing her about her bleeding heels after their morning run, so he scrambled to the medbay to ask Dr. Cho for bandages and antiseptic— much to her confusion, as he didn’t ever need either. He dropped the supplies outside her door before she could finish showering off her run.

Then, he overheard her complaining about her cold hands one night as he passed the movie room. Bucky had to fight to repress the growl in his throat as he watched Steve take her hands into his own, rubbing them together for warmth while she laughed. He went back to his room and asked FRIDAY to help him order a pair of top-rated, insulated gloves in navy blue— he liked that color, but didn’t know if she did— as well as a blanket marketed as “perfect for nesting,” because he has officially lost all self-control. While the rest of the pack was out, he snuck into the movie room to leave the soft bundle on the couch that smelled the most like peppermint.

After a full week of secretive little offerings, Bucky was curled up on his own couch with a book, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest where the constant ache felt sharpest, when he heard someone start to turn the knob on his door.

It had taken him a few years, but he’d stopped jumping at unexpected noises like this, though he still often caught himself subconsciously scenting for threats, unable to shake the conditioned hyper vigilance. His Alpha instinct to constantly be prepared for a fight, made infinitely worse by Hydra’s torture, had gradually mellowed out with the safe reassurance of living with a pack. Knowing he had people close by who would protect him and people he would fiercely protect in return had served as a balm for his PTSD symptoms.

Bucky scented him before he saw him, but Steve slipped through the door upon finding it unlocked, giving Bucky his signature golden boy smile, before plopping into the armchair across from him.

“Hey, jerk. Are you avoiding me? Are you okay?”

Bucky felt his hackles raise as he caught a lingering whiff of Y/N on Steve and willed his expression into nonchalance. “No,” he said, before returning his gaze pointedly to the pages of the novel that he wasn’t really reading. “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“Well, for one, you’ve barely left your room since I dragged you back here from Brooklyn, your apartment reeks like your dog just died and you’ve almost rubbed a hole through your shirt.”

Bucky quickly snatched his hand away from his chest where he’d continued rubbing circles without even noticing he was doing it. “I don’t have a dog,” he replied snidely.

His words came out a bit more venomously than he intended, and Steve’s easygoing expression faltered. Shit. He hadn’t meant to take his Alpha bullshit out on his best friend. It’s not like Steve was doing anything wrong. The problem was that he always did everything right.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighed, putting down his book and scraping a hand across his jaw, where his stubble was starting to border on a full-grown beard. Ugh. “I’m still just… processing.”

Steve gave him a concerned look, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not still feeling guilty, are you?” Steve said. Bucky broke eye contact, studying the logo on the other Alpha’s oversized red sweatshirt instead. (“American University Est. 1918”— a gag gift from Tony last Christmas.)

“Buck— Come on, Y/N’s fine! Everyone loves her, and she’s doing great here. She doesn’t even talk about yo—“ Steve cut himself off, catching the grimace that flashed across Bucky’s face before he could reign it in. “I didn’t mean it like— She hasn’t even seen you, man, you’re always hiding away here or in the library.”

Bucky sighed again, tired yet begrudgingly appreciative of Steve’s attempts at soothing the issue. The other Alpha might not always know the right thing to say, but he was always earnest and honest about things.

“It’s okay, Steve, really. I just need some time, is all,” Bucky said, making a concerted effort to push out a less depressing version of his scent to mollify his best friend.

Steve gave him a tentative smile. “I talked to Fury about Y/N, by the way. Wanda told me she’s progressed a ton over the past month or so, you should really see her use her abilities in combat, it’s incredible! And Nat trusts her completely— you know she’s always the hardest to win over,” he said, his grin broadening. “I’m going to ask Y/N to join the team, officially, this week.”

The ache in Bucky’s chest ramped up, throbbing like a bass drum, but he forced out what he hoped was a convincing smile, knowing it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad she’s fitting in,” he said. And he was glad. He was thrilled to know that his Omega was safe, loved and happy, that she had grown her powers with Wanda, that Steve was asking her to join the Avengers.

Even though it meant that if he couldn’t get his own urges under control, he’d need to find a new pack.

“Why don’t you come join us downstairs? Sam’s putting on Gladiator in a few,” Steve added.

For a second, Bucky really considered it. He could sit through one movie with her, after all, without falling apart at the seams. He was a freaking super soldier Alpha. He’d survived Hydra.

Then he remembered the bundle of blanket and gloves he’d left sitting on the couch a few hours ago in anticipation of their movie night and decided against it. If she put two and two together in front of the pack, Bucky didn’t think he could explain his way out of that one.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said, lifting his book up in a half-hearted attempt to look occupied. Steve could see right through him, he knew, but the other Alpha just gave him a smile and a reassuring shoulder squeeze, before slipping out of the door.

It was better this way, Bucky thought. Better for everyone if he rode this out on his own.

His Omega was okay. That’s what mattered.

[dearest-bucky]

Like real people do (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky catches Y/n reading fanfiction about him.

Words: 2.7K

Warnings: None, language?

A/n: I don’t really like this one but since I’m reposting everything 🤷‍♀️ Here ya go, I hope you like it. 

Originally posted: July 14, 2020

"What you got there Y/n?"

She knew she was lucky. Having him so near, being able to see every little freckle and scar that littered his skin, being able to feel the heat radiating from his body, it wasn't an everyday occurrence, despite the fact they lived under the same roof.

One of her hands was resting on her lap, fingers itching to move towards him and touch his smooth skin, while the other pressed lightly the gauze on the slash near his collarbone. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she inspected the cut, deciding the number of stitches it needed and her cold breath hit his skin repeatedly, causing goosebumps to erupt on his chest.

"I'm sorry.." her voice was small as she apologized for hurting him after a small wince escaped his parted lips, but he only shook his head, silently encouraging her to continue.

She picked her head up, chancing a look on his face and only then she realized how small the distance between them was and how close they really were to each other. Her lips tilted slightly upwards in a somewhat small smile and a blush crept up her cheeks, another wave of heat emanating from him hitting her and she averted her eyes again, focusing once more on his stab wound.

Another moment passed before she felt his left hand on her cheek, cupping it softly and a chilled shiver ran down her spine from the cool touch, despite the otherwise hot temperature around them. Her breath hitched in her throat as he titled her head up with his hand, their eyes meeting for a short second, before he leaned down ever so slowly, giving her the chance to back away if she wanted.

"Doll..." His voice was but a breath against her trembling lips and her eyes closed with a light flutter, letting herself get lost in his touch. His lips brushed against hers ever so slightly, as if teasing and she couldn't wait until he decided to put an end to their misery and lock their lips in an actual kiss.

The anticipation was scorching her skin and her nerves, and he seemed to read her mind and decide to put her out of her misery because the next second -

With a startle she dropped the spoon she had been previously holding in the cereal bowl, causing the milk to splatter on the counter. She quickly locked her phone and placed in on the counter face down and moved to clean the mess she made with her breakfast.

"Bucky you scared me!" She chastised him, trying to hide the waver in her voice but failing miserably. Not daring to look at him she moved around the kitchen, cleaning the counter and disposing the rest of her breakfast in the sink, her appetite already lost.

Her cheeks darkened with a blush and a wave of heat hit her forcefully, this time from the embarrassment.

She didn't see his face but she could've sworn he was smirking behind her back, enjoying her flustered state too much, just like he always did. She could feel him move around the kitchen too, apparently to fix his own breakfast before one of the bar stools scraped the floor lightly, letting her know he was sitting in her previous spot.

She heard him pour the milk on his own bowl of cereal and she decided now was her best opportunity to leave the kitchen, however Bucky seemed to have other plans for her because just as she made her way towards the door, he called behind her back.

"You never told me what were you reading in your phone." She stopped right in her tracks at the sound of his voice, and she blushed harder than before, if it was even possible at this point. Her back was facing him, so it was easier to avoid his look, also easier to lie to him as she spoke in a rush, right before leaving the kitchen.

"Nothing that concerns you, Barnes."

With rushed steps she walked to her bedroom, seeking a little comfort and privacy away from a certain prying pair of blue eyes. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and let out a long breath, finally able to do so, away from Bucky.

She could practically hear the teasing tone in his voice as he asked her that question and there was no doubt in her mind that he already knew what she had been reading.

She was fucked! Royally so!

If only she'd been a little more careful, but instead she had let herself get lost in the words on her screen and got caught by the man she was reading about.

It had started innocently enough. She had been reading fanfiction about her favorite Star Wars characters a few months ago when she stumbled across a few writings about the Avengers and since then it had been down the rabbit hole for her.

She enjoyed reading about her team mates, usually platonic pairings, she liked the way many talented people wrote and described her friends in a way she never thought possible, they were mostly accurate too.

However her real downfall had been when she found fanfiction about her favorite teammate, Bucky. She had tens of stories saved on her bookmarks, ready to indulge herself in fantasies of him every night before bed.

She would be lying if she said she didn't have feelings for the broody super soldier, but after some light flirting with him and not getting the reaction she had hoped, she'd given up, turning to the imaginary world of fanfiction.

Now their real life relationship remained strictly platonic, despite Y/n's ever present feelings.

She was eating her breakfast alone when a notification popped up on her phone, informing her one of her favorite writers had posted a new story, and being so eager to read, she didn't think about what would happen if anyone found out about her guilty pleasure.

The fact that Bucky was the one to 'catch her in the act' was the worst that could happen and now as she tried to ease her nerves in the privacy of her room, the only thing she could think of was how great it'd be if she could just vanish.

A few days later and Y/n had been avoiding Bucky like the plague, too embarrassed to even face him again. This of course hadn't gone unnoticed neither by the man himself, nor by the rest of the team, that kept sending questioning glances in her direction every time she walked to the common areas.

Once again, she found herself in the confines of her room, this time gathering the courage to walk down to the common areas for the movie night with the team. If it was for her, she'd be glad to stay in for the night, but Tony had insisted it was mandatory for everyone to be there tonight, claiming the team needed a bonding night together after being sent in too many missions the last month.

With another exhaling breath, she walked to the TV room, seeing everyone was already there. Steve, Tony and Natasha were sitting on the big couch, Vision and Wanda on one of the love seats, cuddling under the same blanket, Sam was on the chair alone and Bucky...

Her breath hitched when she saw Bucky sitting alone on the other love seat, the space next to him the only one empty.

"Finally Y/n, we were waiting for you to join us so we can start the movie." Sam was the first to speak up, seemingly a little impatient to start the movie.

"I'm here, I'm here. Now get up from my spot." She replied, trying to maintain a light tone in her voice, but Sam only scrunched his face in annoyance, shaking his head 'no' in response.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting next to Tin Man, he takes too much space." Then with a nonchalant shrug directed her next to Bucky. "You're perfect for that spot though."

She let out a small, silent sigh, not happy at all with Sam, but she didn't say anything anymore, moving to seat on the love seat next to Bucky. Not wanting to raise any more suspicions (as if there weren't enough already) she sat next to him wordlessly, trying to avoid looking directly at him as much as possible.

The movie started and everyone remained silent, except for Sam who'd comment on the characters' actions every now and then.

She'd been sitting stiffly next to Bucky for about twenty minutes, a slight chill caused from the AC running down her spine. Bucky, ever the attentive one, stretched the blanket that was over his lap to her too, helping her get under the warmth of the soft material.

She just gave him a brief look, a small smile forming on her lips as a sign of gratitude and turned her head towards the large screen again.

On the coffee table there were lots of snacks and drinks, but she paid them no mind as she sat next to Bucky, still unable to relax fully despite the softness and warmth of the blanket that was covering her.

As the movie progressed she started to relax a little more with each passing minute. Her phone laid on her lap, above the blanket, the black screen staring up at her. It was the peak of the plot, where the main character finally learned the truth about her family, when she heard the ping of her phone and felt its short vibration on her thigh.

She picked it up in her hand, paying no mind to what it might be, and unlocked it, swiping to see the notification in the notification bar.

Her eyes locked on the screen as she read "writingavengers posted Love Actually, a Bucky Barnes x reader story". Her breath hitched at the words as she tried to play it cool, locking her phone again, but the next thing she did was a bigger mistake. She glanced towards Bucky, only to find him already looking at her intently, an undecipherable look in his face.

She swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly dry and averted her eyes to her lap, where her phone was laying, the screen once again black. Without so much as a word she got up, determined to leave the room, unable to stand being in his presence anymore.

This time she was really screwed.

"Where are you going? The movie isn't over yet."

"Umm... I'm feeling sleepy and I've already watched this movie so I know how it ends." She replied to Natasha and didn't even stop to say 'good night' before practically running out of there.

Back to her room, she cursed herself for unlocking her phone in front of Bucky, then for even taking her phone with her while she was watching the movie. She kept mumbling curses, thinking how would she be able to look at Bucky ever again. He probably thought she was some sick woman who was obsessed with him.

While huffing and puffing on her bed, she heard the hesitant knock on her door and her head snapped towards it, wondering for a moment if she had imagined it, but she was soon proved wrong when another knock was heard, a little more loud.

Y/n let out a sigh, not wanting to see anyone, considering to just not answer at all, whoever it was could wait until tomorrow, but apparently the person behind her door was determined to see her now, as a few more knocks sounded on the wooden surface of her door. With a huff she threw the comforter away and got up from the bed, walking to the door and opening it slowly, her breath catching behind her throat as she saw who was standing on the other side.

"Bucky..." Was the only word she was able to spill out as he entered her room without a word, his face set in an unreadable expression.

He turned to face her when he was inside her room, staring at her, parting his lips as if to say something, but apparently deciding against it as he closed them again.

Not standing the silence and his intense stare on her, she finally gathered some courage to speak first. "Bucky what are you doing here?"

Her tone was calm despite the growing nerves and she finally looked up to his eyes as she waited for a response.

After what felt like an eternity, but only being a couple of minutes of staring at each other, Bucky decided to speak up. "I know what you read on your phone." He said and despite it not being an accusation or nothing of the sort, he winced when he heard how his voice got out, and Y/n's fallen face was proof enough that he was being too harsh, dare he say tactless.

Despite knowing that he already knew, the way he said those words made Y/n's blood leave her face in a rush and she didn't know what to say. What could she even say? 'okay, you caught me!' It was stupid!

Another moment passed before he spoke again, this time in a softer tone. "I searched on the internet and I know all about it. I read a couple of those stories myself." He confessed and she could finally dare to meet his eye again.

A dejected sigh slipped past her lips as she responded. "I'm really sorry Bucky. I swear I'm not some crazy, obsessed girl, I just..." She shut up before she could say something she would regret.

"You just?"

His question was inviting, almost luring her to respond with nothing short of honesty. She let out another sigh as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed, fearing what she had to say would ruin whatever relationship - no matter how platonic - she had with Bucky. At least she could be sitting for when that moment came.

Her hands fell on her lap, fingers curling nervously around each other.

Okay this is it, she thought to herself, the moment of truth. She knew Bucky would probably never talk to her again after this, but she figured it was better to come clean to him once and for all. She looked up at him again, finding him already looking at her, waiting patiently for her to speak.

"The thing is, I really like you Bucky." Here it is! It is out!  Now there is no turning back. "I think I actually more than like you..." She blushed as she said those words but she was determined to tell him everything, so she continued. "I have feelings for you, I've had them for sometime but I couldn't tell you that so when I found out about those fictive stories, I found myself surrounded by them, because at least there, there was a chance you liked me back and I lost myself in those fantasies of you and I and what we could be together." As she finished speaking, her head had hung low too, terrified of meeting his eye after this. Bucky had been silent in front of her, too silent, and if it wasn't for her looking directly at his legs, she would have thought maybe he left her room altogether. But he was there, staring her down, listening, thinking.

She couldn't bare to stand the silence anymore, already embarrassed enough, so she got up from her bed and moved to stand in front of him. "I understand if you hate me now and I am really sorry. I never meant to make things so uncomfortable and awkward between us and I promise I'll stop reading those stories -

She didn't get to finish her word as Bucky placed his lips on hers, effectively shutting her up. Her eyes widened for a second, before they fluttered close, surrendering to his kiss.

"I really like you too doll." He whispered against her lips, still not ready to totally part yet. "I'm sorry I'm not the easiest person to talk to and I'm really dense when it comes to love and relationships, but I have liked you since the first day I laid my eyes on you."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bucky Barnes liked her! Bucky liked her too! She liked Bucky. They liked each other! She wanted to squeal in delight, but she decided against it, opting to go for another kiss instead, happy she was finally able to do that for real.

[summoner-chan]

✨⭐[幸せな4周年!/Happy 4th Anniversary!]⭐✨

4⭐ Ose came home today with the FIRST ticket and I've never been so happy!! I've been wanting his 4⭐ for so long now and now that I've gotten it, I started writing a self indulgent fic of Summoner-chan using up the Platinum Lil Salomon card just for Ose! Hope everyone enjoy reading it!

Hurried footsteps echoed lightly through the halls, almost resembling like an excited child awaiting their gift under the tree when it was Christmas morning. The brunette couldn't help but giggle and grin with joy, gripping the single card in between her fingers. The thought of surprising her favourite familiar made her heart blossom with flowers, butterfies swooning in her stomach. The short female hastened her steps more, eager of seeing the therian clad in a white suit

The leopard was idling by the garden, the various plants and flowers from otherworldly realms made him felt that he had visited the realm just by looking at them. Truly, it gave him a sense of serenity and tranquility. Being a triple agent was certainly thrilling but exceptionally exhausting to say the least, though, he didn't expect to have become one of the familiars of the very infamous guild master and her guild, Hanasaki Abuto of The Summoners

And he certainly and absolutely didn't expect to be tackled from behind as a loud cry of his name soared into his ears, their arms wrapped around his midsection and as the grip tightened at every second. His suave smile grew even wider as he very well knew who it was before looking over his shoulder only to be greeted with brown orbs glittering in the sunlight, a toothy grin that was accompanied by the giggles slipping through her lips

The fem eased her grip as she let the therian turns his body to face her, diving her face into his broad chest and having to earn a light chuckle out of him. Large diamond spotted hands caressed the cheek of his beloved summoner, his heart swelling with adoration as she leaned more into his touch before placing her small gentle hands on his own, her dazzling smile seemed to pull him more into the dangerous game called love. He had his fair share of affections but not as strongly as he felt towards the young lady

"My, my, boss. You seemed to be such in a good mood while being even more cuter today. Has a miracle happened while you dear handsome familiar was away?" The leopard therian cooed, a surge of pride coursed through his veins when his green eyes caught up to the reddening hues of her features. Now that he had taken a great look of her face, he noticed that the usual full lips was glossed and it was slightly tinted, marvelously enhancing the natural colour and it went gorgeously well with her sun kissed skin.

Oh how ironic it was that he was granted with such a heavenly view despite being a creature from the depths of Gehenna. He wholly welcomed the gift that whatever ethereal beings had given to him, whether it be the Gods of the Heavens or the Devils of the Hells or maybe it was mix of the two but either way, he's not complaining of it. The sight of a card adorned with the lines of gold covered his field of vision before having it lowered, the young lady peaking through as if to see his reaction

It seemed to be that his summoner had recently got a handful of Platinum Lil Salomon tickets as she calls it, from what she had enthusiastically explained to him before, it had the ability to summon a familiar of their own choice, even summoning to an even powerful and stronger variant of the familiar. The male didn't considered himself special or eye catching compared to the other familiars she had on her team like for example, the butler from the Ikebukuro Berserkers and the prosecutor from the Rule Makers as both had evolved into their highest form unlike him, who has still yet to be given the opportunity of having the privilege of such

A feeling had wormed through its way into his heart, a feeling that he tried to extinguish but the leopard had underestimated its untamed fire, rivaling to even the fire that spawned in the lowest pit of Gehenna. The notorious feeling that could sever, crush and erase bonds like no other was jealousy. The man would rather lop his head off than let his charming, collected and flirtatious image to be stained with jealousy, no, he wasn't going to submit and surrender to it so easily without battling the wretched emotion with all his might

The therian closed his eyes and hummed as if in thought as he had guessed that she was going to use it to summon more variants or get the same kind to increase the strength for the other two companions but went along using a trick up his sleeve. "Looks like your devilish familiar is a bit clueless today, boss. Mind enlightening me who's the lucky man who's going to be summoned?" said the spy. The brunette's smile was replaced with a pout, her brows furrowed as she let out a huff and her hand was quick to playfully smack the therian's chest before the male breath out a small 'ouch' from the attack

"You're really going to make a girl say it first?..." Oh? Well that's new. Make a girl say it first? What in the world did his summoner was going to say? The fem felt like she was shrinking under the gaze of her familia who turned quiet and merely was waiting for her answer by the looks of it. Oh how she wanted the ground to swallow her up whole, sadly, miracles don't happen that often so she's left with to deal with her own embarrasment. Her gaze was anywhere else than gazing into those hypnotizing green eyes, resembling to a precious mineral stone that she adored, emerald

Clearing her throat, the fem raised the fancy card up, using it as a shield to block her blushing face and to avoid looking at her own familiar to save herself from the embarrassment. The card slowly started to glow, the colours shifting from red to green to grey before settling down with purple. As the card glowed, the image of the goat transient that was on it, too, changed as well, morphing entirely into another transient. The image swirled vigorously and the glow grew brighter and brighter, the therian having to squint his eyes from the light. With a loud shing, the purple mysterious glow faded and turned into mist, covering the pair as the wind picked up and blew it all away gently

The choice of the summoning has been done, now all the summoner of the card have to do is to cast the card, just like summoning familiars from the App (Gacha). The fem was shaking with anticipation and nervousness, the silence of her familiar was eating her away, was he not happy that he was chosen? "Boss" The sudden call made the therian's summoner jumped at the sound of her addressment, pulling the card closer to her face as she let out a shaky hum as an answer of his call. "Don't be like that... Won't you see your darling familiar's face, boss..?" The brunette bites down her lip when the side of her face was fanned with hot, long, breaths of air. Large calloused hands were placed on her waist, sliding down agonizingly slow before resting themselves on the hips, thumbs drawing circles on the clothed area

A gasp had slipped through, the fem's voice quivering when the therian placed his lips on the unprotected skin of her neck, easing his way up while leaving soft kisses on the flushed flesh, soft pants were also induced from the mere action. "Still not budging, I see? How admirable of you to stand your ground after that stunt I pulled, boss. Though...I doubt that you'll last after this one" With a lick of his lips, his resting hands started to move down further, inching closer and closer to his beloved summoner's backside. Just as he was about to reach, the young lady let out a squeal of surrender, her hand tapping on his white clad shoulder as the other still held on to the card

"I'll look at you! I'll look at you! Just- You're going to make me overheat from all of that..!" Chuckling, the male swiped the card away from her fingers, the young lady letting out a strangled 'hey!' before quickly shutting up when the leopard placed a firm hold of her waist, their faces undeniably close. "Not so hard isn't it, boss? You could have listened to me sooner but, ah, alas you caused your own downfall, didn't you?" The leopard donned in the suit said teasingly, sending out a wink into the fem's direction

"Now there's must be a reason of why you chose me, say boss?" His only response was silence, his summoner batting her eyelashes at him, putting on the 'I don't know what you're talking about' look. Most of her friends and familiar were all too knowing of this look, the girl being a terrible liar while being blatantly obvious that she was hiding something. With the rule that the therian had, he had already seen through her, completely capable of seeing the answer that he looked for but the leopard wanted to hear it from her own very lips instead, it's more fun teasing and irking out the answer rather than by using that Rule of his.

"I w-wanted to summon that Red Oni!"

"Didn't you already have him, boss?"

"I-uh! w-wanted you to be stronger!"

"How nice of you to think of me boss but that's not entirely it isn't it?"

"You said that you wanted evolve right!! Then I took the chance and used the card for you!!"

"Indeed I do but there's no reason for you to willingly do so when you have other tons of familiar befitting of the card. Unless you have something important to tell me..?"

"Urk!.."

The brunette whined, all of her lies were cut down by the statements and questiones that her familiar dropped down on her. There's no more room to run to anymore, she's cornered and the truth is begging to be told, her heart leaping out from her chest from the frenzied situation. The summoner's lips moved but the sound of the words were extremely dimmed and it came out as a muttering to herself, fingers fiddling with the hem of her school jacket. The reaction from her is truly priceless! The male's sensitive ears took note of the words she just said but there's no way he's going to miss the opportunity to tease her more, filling up the desire to take her right then and there from the cute reactions she's giving

The leopard placed his hand behind his ear and leaned down, his signatures smirk on display for the world to see "Hmm? I couldn't hear what you said, boss. Mind repeating that for me?" The young lady started to stutter and trip on her words, all of this amused the therian that embraced her. Her hands reaching up to her face before cupping them, eyes shut and brows furrowed, the blush on her face was apparent "Because I love you, alright!" Yes, the answer that he was finally waiting for, the confession of her love to him. Before all of this event happened, the leopard therian had gotten his answer just by glancing to the cheery summoner of his when they hugged him. Their confession of love was written all over them

Ose figured his summoner had enough of his teasings, gently pulling her hands that cupped her face, his expression softened when the girl looked up to him with the same brown orbs that he stared into when he was summoned. The therian came nearer to his summoner, the space between them no more as two figures melded into one, lips pressed with one another, the summoner's eyes widen in shock before fluttering them close before kissing him back with the same fervor he's giving to her

The therian pulled away reluctantly, his sense of thought chipped when a soft moan of his name reached his ears, quickly regaining back his thoughts as he pressed another kiss on her temple. For now, the silence between them was all he needed. The love that was kept away in his heart blossomed, dancing with joy and happiness as the sun shone on to the waves and bid the flowers goodbye before another beacon of light replaced it, which was the Moon. The spy planned on returning the feelings that his summoner had for him in another different way but this was sufficient for him too, he guessed

Hoho! Quite lengthy than I expected to be honest but still happy with it!! I hope that everyone is having fun with the Anniversary!! Summoner-chan, signing off!⭐

✨⭐[幸せな4周年!/Happy 4th Anniversary!]⭐✨

[wrctings]

Dick Winters x reader | The best way to recover

for all of my fellow soft dick winters stans 🧡

“Is being mess officer that horrible?” Nixon asked lightly, trying to get a smile out of his friend as he made his way through the kitchen, avoiding army cooks to join Winters.

As usual, the clinking melody of cutlery knocking together was reverberating through the room, bouncing off the walls and mingling with the voices of the men whom avidly scraped their ration of food off their plates, which had somehow led the atmosphere of dinnertime to become congenial over months. After the long hours of draining, at first even almost unbearable preparation that they endured daily, the soldiers of the 506th had started to form a bond that not only got them through the toughest of training sessions, but also manifested whenever they were bestowed a bit of free time. In between running to exhaustion, teasing and munching on flavourless beans together, camaraderie was growing day after day among Easy Company.

“I’d rather not be here right now,” Dick replied shortly, only giving the brunet officer a brief glance before his eyes drifted back toward the window pane. As a Lieutenant, the redhead was accustomed to watching over his men with care, even moved as he witness their efforts bear fruit and theirs friendships grow tighter, but on that evening his thoughts and attention were directed toward something else — someone else, rather. As the pouring rain drummed outside, accounting for the definite arrival of Autumn’s brisk weather and carpets of brown leaves, what Dick would have otherwise considered appeasing had now become the cause of his worry, distracting his diligence from the task that Sobel had given him when he designated him mess officer. 

“Dick, what’s happening?” Lewis frowned, sensing that the other man’s tone smacked of particular concern — he could tell that something was off by the hardened look on Winters’s face, the officer pacing up and down without truly acknowledging what was happening all around. 

“Sobel made Y/n run Currahee right before dinner. Guarnere and Toye went with them, but they’re not back yet.” 

“Shit, it’s pouring out there,” Nixon cursed under his breath, shaking his head at the news. He now understood his friend’s state of mind much better, knowing how much you meant to him. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes. They should be back soon,” Winters’s gaze was shifting from the window to the door, the man intensely hoping that you and your two companions in misfortune would finally show up at last. 

“They’ll be okay,” Nixon put a hand over Dick’s shoulder, giving him a few comforting pats. “They’ve run that mountain dozens of times.” 

“I know, Nix, but have you seen the weather? We don’t need soldiers falling ill now,” Winters added roughly, in sharp contrast with the composure of his usual behaviour. 

“Dick, Y/n is a good soldier,” Nixon spoke in a quieter voice, understanding that Dick was most of all worried about your well-being. “And they’re with Guarnere and Toye, the three of them can help each other out.” 

“Yeah.” The redhead eventually nodded, turning around to get a glimpse at the other officer. “Why did he made them run the forsaken mountain now...,” he muttered, jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed. 

Lewis’s lips parted, the man about to agree on the deplorable nature of Sobel’s methods, but before he had time to lash out at their Commending Officer the door finally swung open and ricocheted off the wall, revealing three panting figures. Soaked to the bone, Bill, Joe and you stepped inside, getting your helmets off as you took in the warmth of the room, shivering in your drenched gear. 

Soldiers cheered as you walked up to the kitchen, giving you pats on the back and congratulating you for getting through the task, to which Joe was bitterly swearing that he would “always hate that son of b*tch” and Bill grunted by your side, sharing your exhaustion. You couldn’t have been more grateful for your friends’ presence, Guarnere and Toye following you in solidarity after Sobel had commanded that you run Currahee, but you didn’t feel like you had enough remaining strength to join Toye in his breathless attacks against your CO. All you could strive for at that moment were a hot meal and a place to collapse in, your legs threatening to cave in with every additional step — while braving the downpour your equipment had felt heavier than ever, painfully weighing down on you for miles. 

When he saw you come in Dick’s first instinct was to rush up to you, attempting to help out best he could, but the interdiction to surrender his post in the kitchen left the ginger-haired man no choice but to helplessly watch you get a plate of beans and bread, then taking a seat alongside Toye and Guarnere with your uniform wet and hair sticking to your skin as you took a hasty mouthful of food. You hardly payed attention to anything around you, trying to stop yourself from shaking while filling your empty stomach with the lukewarm beans that you had been served, feeling Bill also quiver beside you.

The time to depart came after you had just finished eating, the company being ordered out of the canteen. Rushing out as fast as possible to find shelter without getting sodden in the rain, the men rapidly emptied the room, leaving no one but Dick, Nixon and the cooks behind; the First Lieutenant still having to face their CO before he was free to go, Lewis disappeared just in time for Lt. Sobel to march up to Winters, requiring his daily report. In the meantime, you headed back to the barracks, eager to get a change of clothes and finally be able to have a break — after this evening, you couldn’t wait to tumble upon your bed, your sore muscles sending you clear signals that they demanded to rest. 

However, an unexpected visit awaited you a short while later. As you were carried forward amidst the flood of soldiers — everybody willing to take refuge from the icy droplets of rain piercing their skin with coldness —, you caught a glimpse of a figure coming toward you from the side, making way among the company. Soon enough, the blurred lines turned into a familiar shape, then becoming clearer as the man got closer to you, and in a few seconds Lt. Winters stood at the side of the crowd you were part of. His dark green iris fixed upon you, he made a small movement of the head when you met his gaze, as though asking if you could join him. After quickly looking around to be certain that your retreat wouldn’t be noticed, you slowed down, letting men overtake you, and stepped to the side until you found yourself close enough to Dick.

You strode away from the barracks without a word, but you rapidly recognised the direction you were taking — it wasn’t long until you reached the officers’ lodgings, the building’s outline illuminated by a beam of light flickering through the windows. Opening the door, Dick let you in first before closing it behind the two of you, making sure that no one had seen you leave together; Nixon and Harry were visibly missing as well, probably enjoying a game of cards in the headquarters.

The redhead immediately went to his footlocker afterwards, not even bothering to take his side cap off as he rummaged through the piece of furniture, and only spoke after he handed you the blanket which he had retrieved. You took it gratefully, teeth still chattering in spite of the warmer temperature of the room.

“How are you? I learnt that Sobel sent you off after you had already left...” he let you know apologetically, helping you unbutton your wet uniform.

“Cold,” you gave him an honest answer, resting the blanket on the bed nearby while starting to get your soaked clothes off. “But Bill and Joe made it a lot easier.”

“Still, ordering you to run Currahee by yourself in that weather..” Dick harsh voice however broke off as he was about to enlarge upon his disapproval of Sobel, deciding at the last moment that it wasn’t worth it — he would much rather focus on you.

Kneeling, he unlaced your boots, your own fingers being too numb to get a firm grip on the shoelaces, and went back to his footlocker while you took off the shirt that you were wearing under your uniform; it hadn’t been spared from the rain, unpleasantly clinging onto your body and sending chills down your skin. Dick then handed you the sweater, trousers and socks that he had taken out while politely looking away — which you always found irresistibly sweet since you were in relationship and had been intimate before —, leaving you all the needed time to change into dry clothes. Only when you were done did he finally came close to you again, the worry that had been painted over his face slightly alleviated now that you were safely shut away from the rain and cold.

“Is it better now?” Winters inquired caringly, his heart swelling as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you in his clothes, fitting too big for your smaller frame. It was as though he had given you a real part of him, aside from the discreet kisses and affectionate words that you had to find a way to exchange throughout the day.

Dick greatly admired your strength — the way you held your head up, kept your spirits firmly focused even though your first months in the army had been rough since you had to constantly prove your worth to the men —, but the intimacy that had developed between the two of you allowed him to see another side of you, just like you could access another side of him. With you, he was not afraid to be himself — he was not afraid to care, because you cared too, and understood. And you were not afraid to let your guard down — to let him help you, just like you also helped him.

“It’s so much better. Thank you, Dick.” You gave the redhead a touched smiled, deeply grateful for the trouble he put himself into just to make you feel better. “Hey, you haven’t even taken the time to take care of yourself,” you then added in soft indignation, it being your turn to look after him. You reached for his side cap, cautious not to wrinkle it, and folded it neatly while Dick took off his jacket.

The Lieutenant ran a hand through his hair, quickly fixing it, and gave you a smile that revealed the creases happiness shaped around his eyes. Although you ought not to be seen inside the officiers’ barracks, such an intrusion being formally forbidden, for once Dick couldn’t have payed less attention to the rules — if risk was the price to pay for spending time with you, he would assume it.

“You must be tired, I’m sorry if I’m cutting your hours of sleep shorter,” Winters still apologised, getting up to hang your wet uniform so it dries out overnight. “I didn’t want to let you go like that.” He sat back down, taking your cold hands into his, warming them up. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Dick,” you squeezed his fingers, a strong, fuzzy feeling coating the inside your chest while you were peering into the man’s eyes, their pale greenness reminding you of everything safe and loving. At the end of the day, after bullets had miraculously flown by and spared your life, Winters was always whom you came back to — though so far away from home, you had found something in him that couldn’t be immured between four walls. 

“Come here,” the redhead added, gently inviting you into his embrace as he opened his arms, and you ensconced yourself right up against him, pecking his lips tenderly before you rested your head against his chest. In spite of the barrier of cloth that the Lieutenant’s uniform represented, you could hear the beating of Dick’s heart, each of its pulsions holding onto the frail life that you all tried to preserve from the brutal grasp of death. You tried to keep the thought of it away from your mind as much as possible, standing by the same principles as the ginger-haired officer. In the field, you didn’t have time to mourn; and outside of it, time was too precious to attempt predicting the breath that the following day would suck out out of one of your fellow soldiers. Although the both of you had at first tried to fight it, thinking ahead about what devastating consequences falling in love would bring be one of you killed in combat, you couldn’t have come as far as you had without each other. Even the most violent of human struggles hadn’t managed to turn your heart into the same steel that made up your bayonets. 

“Aren’t Nixon and Harry going to come back?” you whispered regretfully, your fingers mindlessly running through the slightly damp hair at the back of Dick’s head.

“I asked them to wait for a bit.” Winters gave you an implicit answer followed by a little smile, stroking your forearms as he kissed you on the cheek. “They’re busy playing games and gambling anyway.”

“I see,” you smiled back, closing your eyes as you let yourself go all against Dick, the regular rising of his torso lulling you as you felt much warmer, your preceding running of Currahee now already seeming like a distant memory. 

It was in each other’s arms that the two of you eventually dozed off, soothed by the fluttering rhythm of the rain pounding against the windows of the barracks and the cosiness that enfolded you, making you hope for many more evenings like this. Even on the chilliest and most straining of days, the space between Dick Winters’s arms was a place for your heart to rest in. 

[forfucksakesniall]

Teaser Trailer

"Car's Outside" - A Series | Inspired from the song by James Arthur

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Summary: You're a struggling Formula 1 driver who joins Lewis Hamilton's family on a holiday, discovering unexpected connections and a sense of belonging that transcends the track and redefines your perspective on relationships and racing.

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Contains mature content and explores complex themes. Please be aware that it may also include scenes of high-speed racing, accidents, intense emotions, emotional conflicts, personal growth, and intimate moments. Reader discretion is advised.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

You're a driver for the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team and your teammate is Lewis Hamilton. Lately, you've been experiencing a string of bad races with incidents like DNFs and collisions with other drivers. It's been frustrating for you and affecting your performance, and it's becoming apparent to everyone around you. After the worst race of your life, you're heading back to the paddock.

"For fuck's sake, why does it always have to be me?" you mutter.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Lewis's dad, Anthony Hamilton, waving at you on your way. You walk right past him until someone grabs your arm. Irritated, you shoot them a glare, but your eyes soften as you realize who it was.

"I've been calling out to you from a mile away. Where were you?" he chuckles.

"I'm not sure... I've been distracted by something," you respond, avoiding mentioning what happened earlier.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" he asks, seeming eager to share something.

"Um, yeah, sure," you reply, not fully engaged in the upcoming conversation.

He extends his arm in a gentlemanly way, and you take it, walking together toward the paddock. He leads you to a table where you both sit down.

"So..." he begins, looking at you and rubbing his hands.

"Um... hi?" you greet with a smile, unsure of what's happening.

"I know you've had a rough start, and I was thinking I could offer you some help."

"Oh, I'm fine. I don't think I need anything... um... yeah," you respond, feeling embarrassed and frustrated that Lewis Hamilton's dad has to address this with you.

"I can see it's been challenging for you, (Y/N). It's not about more training or spending time on the simulator. It's about finding a genuine love for what you do," he explains, pausing briefly and then smiling at you.

"What I'm saying is... I'm inviting you to join us for a little break from everything. It's Easter soon, and I know you usually prefer to have some time to yourself, but wouldn't it be better if you got closer to your teammate and have a change of view?"

You and Lewis have never been close friends, perhaps due to the chaos you've caused on the track or because you weren't good enough to be on the team, making him not even acknowledge your existence. You've never had a conversation or even exchanged a nod. Everything people see online is just PR to avoid any controversy.

What confuses you is the fact that you're being invited to their family holiday. You! Someone who has no connection to them whatsoever. Well, you and Anthony had formed a father-daughter bond. He would motivate and encourage you during race week. Your own family has never been close or supportive when it came to racing. Since then, you've worked hard for everything you have and have become independent, not relying on anyone.

You simply blink at his offer, lost for words.

"Lewis!" Anthony calls out as Lewis enters the paddock. "(Y/N) and I were just talking, and I invited her to join us on our holiday."

Lewis looks at his dad, eyebrows furrowed. "Um... Did you ask her, or are you taking her hostage?" He glances at you and then back at his dad.

"You can say no, you don't have to do everything he says," Lewis tells you without even looking in your direction.

"Um... yeah, I don't think I should disturb your family matter," you say, standing up and making your way to your driver's room.

Anthony lets out a disappointed sigh upon hearing Lewis's comments. "I told you she needs our support," he tells Lewis, his eyes filled with sadness.

"You don't know her well enough to know what she needs," Lewis retorts sharply, then turns and heads to his room.

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

As you prepare to leave and head to the parking area, a smiling Anthony calls out to you from a distance. You jog over to him, not wanting to keep him waiting.

"Hey, I'm sorry for turning down your offer. I thought it might be awkward for..." you begin to explain.

"Oh no, you're coming!" Anthony interjects.

"What?"

"We're leaving right now," he informs you.

"Huh?"

He gently puts his arm around your shoulder and guides you towards a van. You spot Lewis sitting by the window, and Anthony nudges you to get in, making you sit between the two Hamiltons.

Initially, your thoughts race:

Wait... Where did he say we were going?

I don't have a bag with me...

Wait... Where is my passport?

Lewis remains silent, engrossed in his phone as you sit beside him. Anthony wears a smug smile, satisfied that his plan is unfolding as intended.

"Um... Thank you. I guess, for having me... I'm still not sure what's happening," you express, uncertain.

Anthony chuckles in response.

"Here." He hands you your bag. Opening it, you find your passport and other essential items for the airport.

"We are leaving?" you ask, staring at the contents of your open bag.

"But I don't have any clothes with me," you point out to him.

"I've already taken care of that. You'll get some once we arrive in London," he assures you.

"London?"

He smiles at you once more.

You glance at Lewis, who continues to ignore you, still fixated on his phone, unwilling to address the situation.

You take a deep breath. Well, at least I'm getting a free getaway, you think to yourself.

🌟 Welcome to the series! 🌟

You have the power to shape this story too! Share your questions, predictions, and ideas. Let's dive deeper into this journey together.

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober Day 7: Kink Cafe 3

Kinktober Day 7 Prompts: Caning Teasing ~ Anal plug (public, under clothes) ~ Public exposure Fandom: Original Tags: Exophilia, m/m, femoboy, teasing, anal plus, public exposure, public oral Pairing: Orc(m)/Elf(m), Alinar/Zar

[Author’s Note: I had waited to find a good set of prompts to continue Kink Cafe. However when picking prompts I wasn’t paying attention. I have replaced Caning with another randomly selected kink. As someone with experience in BDSM, and with caning, it is not something I enjoy or want to write at this time. I understand if it violates the spirit of kinktober, but I did try to make sure not to include extreme or triggering kinks and that also means for myself. I hope you all understand]

The first day of the Kink Cafe had been a resounding success as far as everyone was concerned. Both the group running it and everyone participating had an incredible time and when it was time to close down the cafe portion of the event there was quite a bit of grumbling. Scenes were allowed to wrap up, and people were encouraged to continue enjoying each other throughout the night. Since the entire building had been rented for this event there were no areas where clothes were required and that scenes were not allowed within reason. Some types of scenes were limited to certain areas, only to avoid causing any damage to the property, fire cupping in particular had a space outside to prevent any accidental fires from starting.

Alinar had been hesitant to move away from Zar when they had finished at the table. As much as the elf had wanted to be fucked right there by the orc, that wasn’t in the cards. Eventually it had been just the two of them left and despite ample preparation, Zar didn’t fit and wasn’t comfortable forcing the issue. The orc still made sure that the elf had a mind blowing orgasm, with promises of future attempts, but Alinar was not feeling patient. 

To make up for it he slipped under the table and took the orcs cock into his mouth, even though they really should have finished their scene and moved on. Alinar wasn’t taking any chances, he had wanted to make sure the orc never forgot him. He used every trick he had to push the orc past his control until that thick ridged cock was lodged deep in his throat. Alinar was hard again just thinking about how it felt to have something so big inside him. The amount of cum was also a shock and he came close to choking if he hadn’t pulled back. 

They separated for the evening, though Alinar wanted to ask if he could stay with Zar for the night, but that felt too much like overstepping so he had gone to his own room. When the morning light pushed through the curtains Alinar was already awake and eager to see Zar again, though he was nervous. What if the orc was no longer interested. It was clear that males were not his preference and maybe whatever magic had pulled them together yesterday, only worked once. 

With nervousness filling him Alinar dressed for the day. Slipping on his blank collar and apron. He would be working the cafe again, or that was the plan. If Zar asked, then Alniar would drop everything for the orc. Participation was voluntary and there were more than enough subs at the event to fill in when people needed breaks or formed connections and wanted to explore. The organizers made sure to provide enough volunteers so that the cafe would not be understaffed. 

Heading downstairs slowly Alinar looked for Zar but did not see him. He did see the minotaur that had been with the orc, but not the orc himself. Heaving outside to the cafe, Alinar signed in for his shift and began to wait on tables. At first it was easy to lose himself in the experience. The flirting, the teasing, the gentle swats on his rear as he walked by, but as time passed Alinar found himself looking for the orc and filling with disappointment when he wasn’t there. 

When it was his break time the elf slipped into the building and looked around. Checking out all the areas where scenes were likely to be happening, all the places where people were encouraged to gather and Zar wasn’t there. Heading out to the side yard, the elf finally saw the orc. Naked, laying on a chair in the sun next to the pool. Skin glistening with sweat or maybe oil. It was a sight to behold. All those hard muscles contrasting with the softer curve of the orcs stomach. The thick hair covering what seemed like every inch of his broad body. Alinar was aroused and he was just looking. 

An idea sprung into the elfs mind and he rushed back to the cafe and made a suggestion that some of the servers with nothing to do, should serve light drinks over at the pool area since it was a particularly hot day. The idea was met with enthusiasm and he, along with some other subs, loaded up trays with a variety of refreshing fruity drinks and carefully headed over to the pool area. 

Alinar worked to be first over so that he could be the one offering Zar a drink. Heading over to the orc with purpose the elf smiled. It appeared Zar was asleep, and he cleared his throat lightly. “Would you care for a cool refreshing drink?”

Zar had drifted into a light doze on the chair and opened one eye behind his sunglasses only to spy the pretty boy elf from the day before. His lips quirked up in a smirk, emphasising his tusks. “Couldn’t get enough of me I see?”

Alinar felt his skin flushed being called out so clearly. Was it that obvious? Of course it was obvious, but really? “As you can see we are offering drinks around the pool.” He gestured to the other servers.

“Uh huh, you just happened to end up over here near me.” Zar smirked and glanced over the drinks taking one that looked interesting “So, how long did you stare at me before you decided to bring me a drink?”

The blush was darkening and the elf could not hide his own embarrassment. He stuttered but ended up just not saying anything at all. Maybe this had not been the best idea. Zar seemed far more amused, more interested in teasing him, than in interacting as they had the day before. 

“Don’ frown like that. I was only speaking in jest. I liked to throw you off your game. You seem so composed, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, you are quite attractive all flushed like that. Why don’t you finish serving drinks and then come back over here to join me ok?”

Alinar felt a thrill go through him as he nodded and tried not to rush through serving the others around the pool. It had been a clever idea, something the organizers liked enough to have a small drink cart moved over by the pool so refreshments could continue to be served. With no drinks left Alinar headed back over and invited himself right into Zar’s lap.

The orc chuckled and placed a large hand on the elfs hips. “Well, just move on in why don’t you?” His laugh got louder as he set the drink down and nipped the elf on the shoulder. “Keep going like this and I am going to take you home with me. Dress you all pretty and make you service me every night.”

“I only wish” Alinar slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, that was not meant to be outloud.

Zar just stared for a moment, tilting his head. “Huh…” 

The orc looked more and more thoughtful as the elf looked more and more mortified. Shrinking into himself. “Look, guys are kind of a new thing for me.” Zar admitted and saw the elfs ears droop. “But I have to say, I don’t hate it. New or not, you are different. Something about you just.. Just does it for me.” Zar ws stroking Alinars thigh softly, fingers brushing under the apron. “I don’t hate the idea, but I don’t know that I could just walk away from women either.”

“You wouldn’t have to. I know plenty of people that like both. I prefer men, I always have, but there have been women that knew how to touch me, or that I have felt strong emotional bonds with. I am not asking for forever.” Alinar admitted and seemed a bit lost. “It doesn’t even have to be more than this weekend.” He wanted more, but knew that would be reaching, pushing, maybe asking for too much.

Zar looked thoughtful. “I honestly thought about asking if it was ok to exchange information, to see each other after this.” He lifted a hand, running his fingers through the elfs soft hair. “I wasn’t entirely joking when I said I wanted you to come home with me.” 

“I can share.” Alinar blurted out and then sucked in his breath biting his lip. His mouth was betraying him. Showing his desperation. Something about Zar had captured him. It was infatuation, it had to be simple infatuation, but it was strong and insistent.

The orc laughed loudly and shook his head. “You are something else, and don’t tempt me. I like having multiple partners. Something about the intense stimulation doing it for me, but also, orcs grow up in communities. We have large extended families, we share duties, fortune, success, and failure, happiness, and sorrow. It is unlikely for an orc to be in a relationship with just one person and not have some form of support as well. Sure monogamy happens, often too, but just as often are there relationships with multiple partners.” 

Alinar was learning more about orcish culture in this one conversation than he ever had in his past. It was refreshing and thrilling to learn so much. It just made him like Zar more and made him want to spend even more time with the orc, learning everything he could. Not just about Zar himself, but his culture as well.

“I could be ok with that.” Alinar admitted. The idea of a close knit community, of people helping each other, of sharing and warmth. It was alluring, tempting, for someone as solitary as himself. 

“How about we worry about all that later, and just focus on enjoying the weekend, but is that a yes to seeing each other after this, at least in a casual sense?” Zar wasn’t ready to jump into anything serious, but he wouldn’t mind exploring this new experience more, and a weekend really wasn’t long enough if he was honest.

Alinar settled against Zar with a smile. “Deal. Let's spend the weekend getting to know each other and then, when this is over, continue with that.” There was no need to jump into anything serious, it was clear they both were interested in pursuing something and willing to take it slow. 

The weekend was a success, the kink cafe event going over better than anyone expected. Most of the people involved ended up leaving with new friends and lovers, some in new relationships. Others had used the event to build on the relationships they already had, and everyone agreed that this should be at least a yearly event if not bi-yearly.

As much fun as he had, Alinar wished that he and Zar could have gone further with their explorations. Penetrative sex still had not occured, but that didn’t mean they didn’t find other ways to tease each other and bring each other over the edge. The elf was just growing a bit impatient. Every time he saw Zar’s dick he wanted that thick ridged monster inside of him. 

Being at home, alone, Alinar found he missed Zar’s warmth. The feel of that large, muscular, hairy body pressed against him, wrapped around him. Zar was larger than life in Alinar’s eyes and he realized that he might be far more attached to the orc than the orc was to him. When it came time to actually contact Zar, Alinar felt nervous. What if he changed his mind and didn’t want this to continue. 

When Zar suggested a public outing, something to test the elfs limits, Alinar was excited. Zar wanted to do a little public play with the elf. Something that surprised Alinar as he assumed Zar would not want anyone to know that he was suddenly sexually attracted to males. Though, Alinar could easily pass as a woman if he wore certain types of clothing, and when he brought it up Zar sounded a little more excited than expected. They came to an agreement. Alinar would dress in a more feminine style, but not specifically try to pretend he was a woman. If he was misgendered while they were out, that was not their problem. Zar also wanted him to wear a plug. Preferably something a little more feminine, and he eluded to wanting to see Alinar in women's undergarments. All of this Alinar was not only ok with, but had the items on hand to easily fulfill the request. 

Packing a bag Alinar headed over to Zar’s place, wanting to bring a few options and let Zar finalize his look. His long hair was already styled delicately, pulled up with some strands free around his face. A light application of makeup to bring out his eyes and color his lips. The rest was just casual, not wanting to risk any of his options getting messy on the way.

When he arrived Zar embraced Alinar, pulling the elf into a kiss that had both men a little breathless and more than a little aroused when it was over. It was a surprise, but a welcome one and Alinar allowed himself to be tugged back into the bedroom. 

“Are you wearing it?” Zar was curious as he looked at the bag. 

“No, I thought you could put it in me, and then help me pick my outfit.” Alinar blushed when he saw Zar’s cock visibly throb at the suggestion. His worries that Zar would lose interest fading away for now. 

“Get naked, and lay on the bed. Get the plug out, I have some good lube here unless you have one you prefer?”

“No, I am sure yours is as good as any. This plug can be used with a variety of lubes so it should be fine.” Stripping and laying on his back Alinar set the plug on the bed next to him.

Zar joined him on the bed, the bottle of lube set on the nightstand as his large hands smoothed over the elfs shapely legs. “You really are beautiful Alinar. I don’t want you to think for a moment that anything has changed. You have opened my mind to something I never thought of before, and there is no going back, and I couldn’t be happier about that.”

Smoothing his hands along the elfs body Zar helped him position his legs and the grabbed the lube. Using one hand to help position Alinar, the other was used to carefully apply lube to the elfs pucker. They had spent time working with their fingers to help prepare Alinar before and discovered it was easier for the elf to start and the orc to join in, as one of is fingers was thicker than two of the elfs. It seemed the elf had already prepped himself somewhat and Zar smiled. 

“Eager I see? Can you take the plug like this or do you need more preparation?”

“I can take it. I was wearing a smaller one around the house while packing to help.”

Nodding Zar lubed up the plug watching it glisten. It had a delicate lavender jewel in it, the end shaped like a heart. The orc smiled and swirled the tip around the elfs opening, teasing and watching the smaller man squirm before pushing it in slowly. Zar wanted it to be him. He wanted to be inside Alinar so badly that they both groaned when it finally slid into place and settled snug between the elfs cheeks. 

“Fuck that is so hot, you have no idea how badly I want to just hold you down and rut you. Who knows, maybe a day of wearing this one might be enough to prep you. It seems bigger than the one you had over the weekend.”

“It is, this one is newer and I have been working up to wearing it. I have one size up from this, if this isn’t enough, we can always work up to that, and then see if it helps with penetration.” Alinar offered.

Zar liked the idea and helped Alinar up before going to wash his hands. “Pull out the outfits, I would like to have lunch soon.”

Alinar pulled on some delicate panties, a light cream color with lace details and a ribbon at the back. Zar clearly enjoyed them and asked Alinar to walk around the room and pick up a few things. The elf chuckled but obeyed. He wanted to be perfect, to show Zar what a good sub he could be. The outfit they ended up choosing was a pair of pants that fit the elf in a way that accented his more feminine hips. The shirt had a built in bustier that cinched at the waist and gave Alinar the illusion of curves and a small bit of cleavage. The rest of the shirt was flowy and slightly open at the top. 

Overall the look was androgynous but leaning heavily towards the feminine. Zar would have had to look twice to be able to tell Alinar wasn’t a woman, and the reality was, if he didn’t already know the elf was male, he honestly would not have been able to tell. 

“You are so lovely, let’s go before I change my mind and keep you here all to myself.” Zar guided Alinar out gently by the arm.

They enjoyed their lunch together, the server referring to Alinar as miss, and neither bothered to correct him. It was a little joke they were enjoying. How many people mistook Alinar for a woman and how long it took for anyone to actually figure out that he wasn’t. As it stood, so far only one person seemed to notice that Alinar might not be female, but they did not seem sure and clearly wanted to say something but didn’t.

After lunch they went for a walk and the plug was teasing the elf in a way that was making him desperate for release. He wanted Zar to fuck him, to milk hos prostate, and he didn’t care who saw. Of course they had to be careful and it was difficult to remain calm. When Zar suggested a movie Alinar felt it would be the perfect opportunity to relax. Since he would be sitting still the stimulation would not be as intense.

Of course he should have expected something was up when Zar insisted they sit far in the back of the theater and did not seem to care what movie they chose. Alinars suspicions were confirmed about thirty minutes into the film. He could feel a large heavy hand running up his thigh and over his crotch. Alinar squirmed causing the plug to shift and he had to bite back a moan. 

Zar leaned over. “If you can stay silent, I will let you cum.”

Slowly Zar undid Alinar’s pants and slid a hand inside. He groped the elfs cock and stroked it slowly. Between the position and how dark it was, it would be impossible for anyone looking to tell exactly what was happening. It was clearly sexual, but gave no indication of what genitals were involved. 

Alinar was determined to show Zar that he could take orders, and fought to be silent as his cock was teased. It wasn’t the same as a normal hand job, the position was awkward. It meant the stimulation wasn’t as direct and was more teasing in nature. It kept him on the edge for almost the entirety of the movie. The longer it went on the more desperate the elf became before he broke and whispered to Zar.

“Please”

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching them. Zar leaned down and took the elfs cock into his mouth in one smooth motion, swallowing the entire length and sucking hard. He could feel Alinars hips thrust up only once, as the elf desperately grasped his hair and came in his throat. 

Miraculously the elf had remained mostly silent, only a quiet choked off grunt could be heard. Sitting up Zar smiled and put his arm around Alinar pulling him close into a cuddle as the elf readjusted his pants. They had been seen, Zar noticed a couple much further down the row watching them. Clearly they weren’t bothered by it as they seemed to be up to their own little risky activities. Feeling a bit playful Zar waved at them and then turned back to the film with a smile.

Maybe tonight would be the night. He would invite Alinar to stay and he wouldn’t give up until he was deep inside Alinar and the elf was screaming his name.

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (2/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: This chapter, from Tamlin's perspective, required a lot of careful thinking and revising and research on my part, specifically on whether abusers can ever recover and what that looks like. Personally, both in real life and in the ACOTAR world, I do believe that recovery is possible, but that abusers must admit the harm they have caused, reckon with themselves to create new patterns of thinking and behavior, and make amends if possible. This has shaped the way I've written Tamlin here and in future chapters. I do think that in the ACOTAR novels and fandom, Tamlin gets criticized for his behavior in a way that other characters with similarly abusive patterns of behavior (Rhys, Nesta, Eris) do not. I also think that redemption is possible for him. All that said, if you don't agree, or if you find Tamlin triggering, I completely understand. You can find all chapters here.

There are footsteps in the darkness, and Tamlin follows them, the breeze disappearing from his skin as he’s surrounded, pulled from the scent of flowers by walls of stone. It is impossible to gnash his teeth in this form so he growls instead, the sound amplified and echoing in the hollow chambers of his estate. Once, they were full of his courtiers and servants, studded with visiting nobles who sought his favor or his counsel.

Now, only Rhysand waits for him, at home in the darkest corner of the great hall.

“What do you want?” Tamlin asks, his voice clotted, scraping his throat.

“I’d like to send Elain Archeron to your court as my emissary.”

“Running short of spies, Rhysand?”

“If I wanted to spy on you, would I be here asking your permission?” He drawls the words but Tamlin has been listening in the forests, his hearing even sharper in this form, and he can hear the slightly anxious pitch in the man’s voice. And it’s curious that he would send someone, let alone his mate’s sister, as if he hadn’t ordered Lucien to make regular visits to Spring. “I’d like to be assured that she’ll be safe.”

“My lands are none of your concern but the dangerous creatures have all been put in their places.” He feels a fraction of his old self when he’s hunting, the mission clear and certain. He loves the feeling of his body obeying his commands, the only being in Prythian in whom he can put his trust.

“I need your word that she will be safe here.”

“You think I’ll lock her up in a ruined castle and throw away the key?”

Rhysand, damn him, simply takes a look around, the gloom deep enough to make his tan face pale as milk.

“Does Lucien stay here when he visits you?”

As if he doesn’t know that Lucien winnows himself to that castle in the human lands when their meetings and councils are over, preferring to spend his time with that Band of Exiles than stay a night in his ruined bedroom, or search the estate for another room that managed to escape its High Lord’s wrath.

Sometimes, he looks back at the being he was during the war with Hybern and feels no spark of recognition. Sometimes he has to coax himself to admit that it was he himself at those moments, starting a war over a woman he knew, even then, did not love him. And sometimes he does not force himself to recognize the truth of his own actions because the realization is always an explosion inside of him, blinding and horrifying, destroying another part of him every time he realizes what he became. What he is, still. It’s partly for this reason that he avoids the face he wore in those days.

“When would you like the Archeron sister to come to my court?” As if he doesn’t know who Elain is.

“She would like to arrive as soon as possible. I believe she stayed up last night packing her trunks.”

“So eager to get away from you?” The pleasure he feels at saying the words catches in the throat of the beast, unused to speaking like a lord, smooth words concealing the whirling of his mind.

“All the members of my court are free to go where they wish.”

Rhysand must really want this outcome, to tread so lightly. Usually his response would have been along the lines of Fuck you, you imprisoned my mate, and now Tamlin watches as he coaxes his mouth into a line resembling a smile’s curve and, as he so often does, picks a nonexistent piece of lint off his tunic.

“What do you require for her?”

“Nothing too impossible, I think. A bed, a bathing-room, a door that locks. A guarantee that she’ll be fed at regular intervals. I did mention that Lucien and Queen Vassa would be joining Elain, didn’t I? So it will be three of everything.”

“Such confidence in their desire to reside here.”

Rhysand’s lip curls. “If you think this is impossible--”

He should decline, insist again that these lands are him, but compulsion pulls at him, a heady thrum.

“It will take at least a month to make this estate adequate to your needs.”

“Elain would like to be here sooner.”

“There is a cottage in the village.”

“If I assist?”

Tamlin lets the growl build in his throat. He’s not sure which is worse: Rhysand knowing the exact layout of his home, or having Rhysand’s people build it because Tamlin himself isn’t sure who would dedicate this kind of service to him, now that they’ve seen the rot at his core. At least they still fear him enough to leave his jewels untouched, or else are unable to breach the surrounding wards.

“Am I to believe that you would send your precious artisans to build the home of your enemy?”

“I’ve given you reason enough to believe anything of me,” Rhysand says, and the words are transparent, infuriatingly so: a person could see that he was truly good if only they were in the mood to look. That Tamlin had allowed himself to believe otherwise for centuries gnaws at him, even as he wants to believe that this decent version of the male is just another mirror, a trick of the light.

“If we begin with the kitchens and three bedrooms, a week will be enough.” He shifts from paw to paw. “Ask Elain what she would like to look at, what colors she prefers.”

“Elain likes the colors of flowers. Soft and delicate furnishings.”

“And she cannot speak for herself?” The words come out harsh, grating, nothing like the tone he’d envisioned in his head, which would, all on its own, indicate the irony of Rhysand taking an Archeron sister for granted, presuming her words. He would say, if there was anybody who cared enough to ask, that after so much time in this form, he has lost the art of modulating his tone.

“I’ll ask her,” Rhysand says, soft and dangerous, “my precious artisans and builders will arrive tomorrow at first light, then. Should I advise them to look for you in this form?”

“I’ll look as civilized as you.” He manages to match Rhysand’s tone. The control required is exquisite. “Though I’m sure you’ll be around to make sure they survive the morning.”

“Prove me wrong, then, Tamlin.”

Of course, Rhysand disappears before Tamlin can lunge for him, his claws snapping on nothing but laden air. The marble floor, dull with inattention, pounds his paws and then his joints as he, the beast outside and inside, hits the floor. The foundation of the estate rumbles in complaint.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are no mirrors to allow Tamlin to observe the face of his Fae form, but his arms and legs are only skin and muscle. If he were slaughtered and prepared as a meal, the diners would complain about the gristle of him, the sharpness of the knife required to make the meal palatable.

He finds a clean shirt and pants and boots which are not spangled with embroidery or jewels, and though the fabric gives off a musty scent, he doubts that Rhysand, his artisans, or his builders will get close enough to judge the stink. Tamlin knows the way that gossip travels across the seven courts, imagines there are stories about his haunting of the Spring Court forests, that they’ll only be surprised he doesn’t appear with fur and claws or else covered in dirt. With this in mind, he scrubs his face and body with water and the last gritty bits of soap until the skin squeaks clean under his fingertips.

After centuries of seeing his own reflection, Tamlin knows how he might look, but no matter what he envisions, the result is disappointing. Any beauty undone by the rot inside, which tears inside of him, an animal gnashing its teeth. The reason he prefers to be transformed, the creature outside matching the way he feels inside. He knows that he deserves this punishment, does not stop imagining Feyre’s wasted body, the sound of her retching, Amarantha destroying that weak and beautiful human frame while he was so careful to be still and silent. He deserves this feeling for Hybern, for calling Feyre a whore, for her sisters in the Cauldron and all the hurt he caused. The list is endless and he recounts each item on it, filling up the hours when his forests are silent, when all the monsters within are too afraid of him to stir.

Despite all his years as a warrior, he never thought that he was such a terror. For a time he tried to blame Feyre for this unleashing, then Rhysand, but too soon there was only the stark reality that he himself was the only one to blame. How he’d never noticed the horrible thing inside his chest is beyond him, a question that will tear him up for all the centuries remaining to him.

Still, in spite of the punishment he is owed, Tamlin is tired of lurking in shadowy corners, in the parts of his forests that made even Amarantha’s creatures hesitant. He does not know what will happen when he is not alone, but finds himself thinking that even the harshest punishment would be better than this life.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The builders arrive, the artisans and gardeners and even an architect, all peering over Rhysand’s wings to get a glimpse of Tamlin. He can see disappointment in her eyes, that he is all High Fae, and for a moment he wants to tell them how strange it felt, to spend the night so naked and unarmed. Then he thinks the sight of his estates will generate pity enough.

Then, beside Rhysand, the Morrigan appears, holding the hand of Elain Archeron, who does not break his gaze, not even when he feels the length of the stare, the blaze of his own eyes.

“Elain wanted to assist in the gardens,” Rhysand says, by way of introduction. “She has quite the talent for arranging flowers.”

“I see you will put anybody in your court to work for you,” he snaps back, just to watch the Morrigan lurch toward him, her beauty gilded with her fury. Rhysand’s court will bark at any slight towards their High Lord.

“I have heard about the famed beauty of the gardens of the Spring Court and I wanted to see them for myself.” Elain Archeron has dipped into a curtsy, the pearls at her ears gleaming in the first rosy fingers of dawn, her gown the colors of sunrise, rosy pink and coral and orange delicately interwoven. When she looks back up at him, her face is all serene, except her eyes, which stay fixed on Tamlin, assessing his expression as if a face could be a trove of knowledge. All he’s ever heard about this sister is her beauty, her kindness, her sweet softness, as though she were a statue made of sugar, but now she regards him like a goddess, piercing and certain amidst the glow of herself.

“Spoken like my emissary.” Rhysand nods at her and she aims a thin-lipped smile at him. “Elain will walk your gardens and propose a design for them. I think you’ll find her taste to be exquisite. And Laella has come with her proposal for renovations to your estate.”

The architect steps forward, scrolls in her hands, which she unfurls and explains to Tamlin without so much as a greeting. While she speaks, he realizes two things: that she is a dryad, and that her plans for the estate are lovely. She will polish the marble, working with the existing design, but add windows and open-air spaces so that those in residence can enjoy the breezes and the sunlight without having to step outside. Tamlin has never been to the palaces of the Night Court, but he cannot imagine that this design is a copy, and as the architect’s fingers scratch over her parchment, he finds himself nodding along. Laella has erased the border between indoors and outdoors. In such a house, he would not feel so surrounded by stone, so deprived of air. He could even imagine wanting to stay, always.

And if, in the end, he cannot bear to stay inside, it will give him a certain satisfaction to watch Rhysand’s reaction to the ruin.

“The complete renovation will take at least a month, but I will have a better estimate once I inspect your home and have your approval for changes.” The dryad’s voice rasps and moans, wind in the branches and the strain of the tree trunk beneath. Tamlin can feel Rhysand’s eyes on him, waiting for a slight, a show of prejudice against this faerie, not a High Fae, and while he aims a smirk at the other male, he nods over the plans.

“You are aware that I’m a beast?” He points, at random, to a large room made brighter and more spacious in the plans.

“Our High Lord has told us stories,” Laella tells him, a wisp of deep green hair escaping from its arrangement, her gray skin flushing in spite of her professional composure when she sees the talons that appear on the backs of his hands, summoned without a thought. “He also said you saved his life.”

“I imprisoned his mate in this place,” he counters, his voice rising, the artisans and builders and architects no longer straining to hear. Rhysand and the Morrigan have taken subtle steps to block Elain Archeron from view. “I had her sisters kidnapped by the king of Hybern. Ransomed my lands for an obsession with a female who rightly wanted nothing to do with me.” He can hear the ragged edge in his voice, the growl, and fears that in a moment he may turn animal again, that he has been cursed with an unwilling transformation without his knowing, an inversion of his powers.

“A truly evil person never believes they have done wrong,” Elain Archeron says, from behind Rhysand’s wings. Her voice is soft but pitched to carry. “From what I’m told, these lands are filled with beings who do evil deeds with no remorse for the suffering they leave behind.”

Rhysand has turned towards her, staring as if he’s never heard Elain say so many words. Everyone is staring at her. Tamlin feels the weight of their eyes fall off his shoulders, heaves a breath.

“Anyway,” she continues, more hesitantly, as if she’s aware that everyone is watching her, “I have to believe that the path to becoming evil is hard to distinguish. That we could get there with the best intentions.”

She flushes and goes silent, and he notices that she said we instead of you, and he thinks that maybe Rhysand’s sister-in-laws are not as moon-eyed over him as the rest of his court. The Morrigan squeezes her hand, and for a second Tamlin almost smiles; seeing the Morrigan out of battle and her armor will never stop amusing him, like seeing a jungle cat begin to sing.

“Are the plans to your liking, Tamlin?” Rhysand asks once it is clear that Elain will not say anything else. “I will pay for the renovations in exchange for one favor.”

“I have enough gold in my stores to compensate your people fairly.” He learned in the cradle, never to accept a favor as payment, especially without detailing very particular terms.

“You don’t know what I’ve promised them in payment.”

Tamlin growls and nods his head toward Laella.

“I offer double what your High Lord promised,” he snarls. “So long as you finish within the month.”

Those smiles are the first he’s received in years. No matter that he had to purchase them. The gold was sitting in his vaults, unused.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, Tamlin stalks the grounds of the estate. The builders have already begun basic repairs under Laella’s guidance, the artisans scouring each room for pieces which might fit the dryad’s vision. Noise echoes throughout the halls, a mirror effect that leaves him dizzy. He has spent too many days in the forest.

“Have you come to see my plans?” Elain Archeron asks, appearing at his elbow, breathing hard.

“You followed me.” He growls, wanting to scare her off. No good can ever come of an Archeron on his trail. He’ll tell this to himself until it feels true.

“Your gardens are too beautiful to be so overgrown.” Again, no malice and no flattery, only gentle confidence. “I’ve been making all kinds of plans”

“You want to change everything.”

“You have an opportunity to have the greatest gardens in all of Prythian, maybe all of this world, and you are letting them go in favor of thorns and rot. As a gardener, I’m honestly offended.”

Tamlin stops mid-stride and watches her, assessing the truth of the statement. Her hands settle on her hips, the parchment of her plans bunching under her fingers. One colored pencil, pink, is tucked behind her ear, and three more are tucked into the bodice of her gown, thinnest fingers of blue and green and gold reaching for her clavicle.

“Your sisters must have warned you about me.”

“Oh, I don’t think Nesta’s ever been afraid of you,” she says, a smile forming on her lips.

“I don’t mean Nesta.”

He can feel the strain in her as she keeps her eyes on his, her breath hissing past her teeth.

“I will not talk about Feyre with you. If she ever wants to see you again, she knows how to find your doorstep.”

“Then why is Rhysand sending you here?”

“Night Court business.” She’s trying to say the words smoothly, but she blushes, the tip of her nose going pink.

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t owe you every single morsel of the truth.”

“You’re on my lands,” he says, only realizing the menace in his tone when she takes one step away from him and then another. “Why are you here?”

“My sisters have often told me that I need to see the gardens of the Spring Court.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, catching a snarl so roughly that he has to hold back a wince. “That is a trip for an afternoon. Your High Lord sends you as his emissary and his gardener.”

“He -- I volunteered.”

“Tell me, Elain Archeron, are you Rhysand’s spy as well?”

“I would be a horrible spy if I told you that, High Lord. At any rate, do you think I have the skills for such a mission?”

“I hear you came out of the Cauldron with gifts, but their dimensions are vague in every recounting.”

She goes pale, as if she remembers who she’s speaking with, the calculus that made her Fae and took, he’s heard, a life story she deemed precious.

“You forgot for a moment that I ruined your life,” he says. He does not want to draw out the awkwardness. Let her walk away, let her leave, if she’s so inclined.

“Did you know that Hybern would capture us?”

“I believed the king. I thought that Feyre would be rescued, the enchantment broken, that we would live happily in my court for a thousand years.”

Elain snorts.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.

Tamlin just stares at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some fearsome warrior?” she continues, crossing her arms at her chest, “Even someone with no idea of strategy could tell you that Hybern would have never honored your promises. Even a human could have told you that.”

“You have never been in love then. You’d believe anything. Give anything. Do anything, just to have your beloved in your arms again.” His chest is tight and yet his skin feels too big for his body. He wants to hug himself but wills his fingers into fists, feeling the strain of the claws against the muscles of his hands.

“You nearly destroyed my sister.”

“You need to--”

“What I want to know,” she says, as if she doesn’t hear him at all, has no regard for rank or even danger, “is if a part of you did it on purpose. If you saw her suffering and wanted it to continue.”

He holds her gaze, the warm brown like whiskey, strong and sparkling.

“You do not believe what you said earlier, then.”

“I want to know if it could be true.”

“Is that what brings you to the Spring Court?”

She sighs, then uncrosses her arms.

“First,” she says, unfurling the parchment between them, “I’d like you to tell me what you think about my ideas for your gardens.”

He decides to look where she’s pointing instead of breathing another threat. She speaks of hyacinths and peonies and ferns, the lilac and forsythia bushes, and cherry trees and weeping willows that will line the paths, under which she proposes he install benches for lingering.

“Who do you think will be staying in these gardens so long?” he asks, the words more melancholy than he intends. He hates the way this male sounds, all longing and self-pity and no action at all, but he can’t keep the noise from escaping him.

She rustles the parchment, making it thunder. “There aren’t any other residents of Spring Court?”

“Not for lack of trying.”

“Why don’t you try to keep them?”

“You think I could have done something different?” He’s daring her to make a list of her suggestions. Cauldron boil him, his own list is endless and ever-growing.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says, sighing as if there is more to say but she is too weary to muster the words, and he cannot believe that Elain Archeron, with her soft voice and her poise, all the glow of her, would be ignored, but Tamlin keeps quiet, allowing her to speak. “Anyway, I haven’t shown you my favorite part of my plan. I want you to install a field of tulips where the grounds meet the forest.” She sweeps her hand in that direction. “Mor has promised to find bulbs on the continent. I grew up hearing stories of tulip fields that went for miles.”

“You don’t think it sends a message of weakness to our enemies, to greet them with flowers?” It’s the second time within the moment when he’s asked for her opinion instead of stating his own.

Her nod is decisive, no sweetness in the gesture.

“Your enemies will know that the true terror is inside. Only the weak require a strong wall to hide behind.” He wonders if she’s thinking of her human lord, the one who left her. Tamlin has wandered as a beast for months, but the gossip of Prythian still finds him. Lucien has an ear at every door, and Rhysand’s monthly meetings are full of updates on political dealings that make Tamlin’s head ache.

“I’ll allow the tulips,” he says. “After all, you’ll be living here for a while, according to your High Lord. If my enemies are encouraged, you’ll see the result yourself.”

She nods, absently, no longer looking at his face but off into some middle distance. Probably considering a different arrangement of flowers, Tamlin thinks, deciding not to wait until she trains his eyes on him again. Instead he lets his feet carry him into the forest without only the smallest nod of goodbye.

He travels miles before he can rid himself of the image of her in his hall, rosy with the dawn light and fragrant as the gardens she dreams up. It is dangerous to think of an Archeron sister more than fleetingly, though, and so gradually Tamlin fills his mind up with the sights of the forest, the dappled light and the creatures that dart away when they hear him coming.

[infantbluee]

title: count to eight

summary: in another timeline, maka is killed on the moon and the world descends into madness. five years later, a reclusive soul stumbles across a girl who claims to be his dead best friend. 

pairing: soul/maka

rating: explicit

warnings: angst, smut, canon-typical violence, sort of love triangle (though not really because it’s just between maka and two souls) 

links: ao3 // ffn

—

oh my gosh, this is my second resbang fic ever and i still can’t believe i got so lucky! this year i was paired with the amazing, brilliant, hilarious, and adorable @ochako999 and @maevenneverland who had a full-time job making me laugh-cry over their shenanigans while also making GORGEOUS art for my fic. (links can be found here and here respectively.) please excuse me while i sob over their talent for the next 84 years because they are perfect.  

even more hugs to my ridiculous discord family for keeping me insane, as well as all the other wonderful people i’ve met on tumblr, twitter, and even just by exchanging reviews on fanfics! there’s a reason i’ve been so glad i joined this fandom and it’s because of every single one of you that make it so warm <3

please enjoy the short excerpt below! 

—

It’s surprisingly cold this year.

Soul blows into his hands, rubbing his palms together to retain warmth. Normally he can escape Kid’s annual Christmas party and hide out in the gardens without any sort of penalty, but apparently Mother Nature decided she was bored this holiday season and wanted to take a turn punishing the antisocial hermit.

That, or she’s calling him a coward.

It’s probably that last one.

“Hiding already?” a familiar voice calls. “This must be a record.”

Holding back a grimace, Soul maintains a blank expression as he turns his head to see his girlfriend approach him along the cobblestone path.

She’s too pretty to be real in this setting, surrounded by glazed tree branches and the twinkling lights strung all over to make up for the blackened moon. Wearing a dress like that with her hair so long and loose, she might as well have “serenade me, you coward” plastered all over her forehead.

“Idiot, you’re going to get frostbite,” he scolds instead, already scowling as he shrugs off his suit jacket to drape over her shoulders. “What are you thinking, coming out here without a coat on?”

Maka smiles sweetly. “I was thinking my weapon always takes care of me.”

Stupid. He thinks the word twice, both times so pathetically filled with affection. “Did Kid send you to hunt me down?” he asks. “I swear I was gonna go back inside. Continue wooing those foreign emissaries or whatever the hell he expects me to do. I just needed a break.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s Christmas; he doesn’t expect you to spend the whole time working.” Her eyes twinkle. “Besides, I already handled it. The dignitaries love me.”

He snorts. “Of course they do.”

“Hey, one of us has to be doing our jobs right,” she teases.

“Suck-up.”

“I prefer the term eager to please.”

Soul is incredulous. “How the hell did you manage to find the one phrase that’s dirtier than suck-up?”

Her smile is angelic. “It’s a talent.”

He responds with a growl as he nuzzles his face against her skin, his hands sliding under the jacket he covered her with to trace the artfully exposed curves underneath.

“Soul, stop!” she giggles. “We can’t do it out here. It’s cold.”

“So keep me warm then,” he grumbles. “And anyway, is that really the first thing you worry about when I’m trying to cop a feel? Not ‘oh, someone might catch us’ or ‘what if your dick shrunk too much in this weather for me to feel it?’”

This time when she laughs, he hides his own smile against her skin. She doesn’t stop him, letting her head fall back with a sigh as he presses kisses along the base of her neck. Even when it’s this cold, she’s so soft. It’s really unfair. He’s seen her moisturizing routine. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this level of silky perfection.

“Soul,” she gasps when he nips particularly hard at her throat. Her hands grip at his shirt, desperate, and he decides that maybe getting a little dirty on a garden bench wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.

But then the lights flicker.

That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to tear his mouth away from her skin, except that it’s accompanied by a deep tremble beneath the earth which causes Soul to stumble into his meister. She catches him, always so impressively steady on her size-five-hidden-by-giant-boots feet, and the speed at which she goes from horny girlfriend to calculating meister is seriously impressive.

And hot. Really hot.

Soul’s never been as adept at switching off his hunger as she is.

“A pre-kishin attack?” she asks with a frown as they rush back towards the party. It’s been a long time since they’ve encountered a pre-k without actively hunting one, and even longer since one has existed within the walls of their city.

“Maybe a demon,” Soul guesses. They’re also rare these days, but they still exist. Though the Witch Treaty has significantly put a damper on their confidence.

As they approach the mansion, they can already hear a commotion brewing. Plenty of shouts, glass shattering. A horrifying, almost unearthly slithering sound as fluid shadows spill out of the windows like overflowing bath water. They pick up their pace.

When they finally burst into the room, they’re horrified by the sight in front of them.

“Kid!” Maka cries.

The chandelier is history, now scattered around the dancefloor in a million tiny little pieces. The decorations are torn; the tables cracked and thrown about. The civilian guests have all been ushered to the sides of the room as several witches hold up a barrier to keep them safe, but the real terror is the enormous entity in the middle of the room that seems to have no problem fending off the advances of half a dozen meisters.

It’s like nothing Soul’s ever seen before, even during the worst of the war. A giant, oozing ball of shadowy flesh with these sharp, jerking limbs that regenerate and extend from its body whenever someone tries to attack it.

Accompanying it is this smell, putrid and awful—but even worse are the low, chittering moans coming from its repulsive form, over and over and over again, filling the room like a sickening hum.

“Maakaa. Maaaaaaaakaaaa.”

Soul feels his blood run cold.

Kid, who is currently trying to hold back several of its limbs from further attacking the civilian barrier, jerks his head up at her call for him, his face flashing with horror. It’s obvious how long the creature must’ve been moaning her name by the intensity of the reaper’s panic.

“Maka, get back!” he screams.

In the same moment, she gasps as Soul tackles her to the side just in time to avoid getting pierced by a flurry of sword-like limbs. He then rolls and grabs her hand, jerking her to her feet as he starts off in a sprint, squeezing to get her attention. “Maka!”

“R-right!”

He shifts into weapon form just in time for her to swing him in defense. She manages to block two of them, slicing off three more, before being forced to jump back as another wave rushes at her. The monster seems to have forgotten about the others completely now that it has her in its sight, its several dozen eyes turning to train directly on her.

“I don’t understand,” she says as she blocks more of its attacks. “Why does it keep coming for me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” growls Soul. “I’ll die before I let it take you. The only priority now is to kill it.”

“But how?”

“To your left!”

She twists to the side, barely dodging the next stream of violent hands as they scrape off Soul’s blade. But instead of relief, he can feel her horror, because those same regenerative limbs that had just tried to rip into her heart somehow jerk to the side with enough force to shatter one of the barriers protecting the guests.

He hears Angela among the screams.

“Maka, no!” he cries out.

Too late. She flips over one of the creature’s arms to run against it, slicing at the others with a ferocity that would impress him in any other circumstance. At the end of her sprint, Maka dives, pushing Angela out of the way from an attack and twisting in a way that cushions the young girl’s fall.

Through their bond, Soul can feel the pain shoot up Maka’s spine and he cries out for her, demanding to know if she’s hurt.

She forces a smile as she sits up. “I’m fine,” she lies terribly. She glances down at the young witch and looks relieved that she’s unharmed.

Before she can say anything else, she’s yanked away so quickly that Soul is literally whipped from her grip and clatters to the floor. He shifts back to human form in an instant, scrambling for her with a cry, but it’s too late.

The monster has Maka dangling by her ankle over its main form, the rest of its extensions retreating as well. Black Star and Kid both try to charge at it only to be swatted away like flies and held back with the pressure of mutated shadow limbs.

Then it does the worst thing possible.

It drops her.

“NO!” Soul screams.

It’s like a detonator is pressed. The moment Maka’s body is absorbed into its inky flesh, the creature begins to twitch a jerk violently, pulsing and moving so rapidly that even the meisters have no choice but to back up.

With a horrifying screech, it’s sucked into the earth through an invisible exit, like some sort of oversized blob of goo being sucked through a vacuum or forced down a drain. The whole fleshy monstrosity continues to be pulled through that tiny unseen gateway until it has completely disappeared from the ballroom. Gone.

And Maka along with it.

[ read more on ao3 or ffn! ]

[silwenworld]

Until The Last Petal Falls (Part 2 in the War Roses Series)

Summary: He could see the flowers floating before his eyes. A Bouquet. A single flower. Every time in different configuration but one thing was constant - the petals were falling away. Each time there were fewer and fewer petals attached to the stalk. And each time that happened, he could feel himself slipping further and further away.

Or: Captain Gold has a son to find and woman to come back to, and nothing short of dying will keep him from doing just that.

A continuation of the Rumbelle Showdown 2020 fic “The Dried Rose”

Category: M

CHAPTER 7 [AO3] [First Chapter]

Storybrooke was a small town with most of its residents being born and raised there as their parents and grandparents had been before them. Although it hadn't changed much throughout the years, the town itself wasn't spared from the dreads of wars that overtook Europe in the span of the last thirty years. Shortage in supplies had been one of the many consequences, but it wasn't so cumbersome as it could have been considering the close community of the townsfolk. Nevertheless, when the soldiers had come to town, everybody looked at them in distrust.  It wouldn't have been as much of a problem if not for the fact that they had drafted some of the younger men, thus leaving the people even more biased towards the newcomers.

Leroy hadn't been the only one who had remembered all too well the horrors of the first War, so when the soldiers came to stay, he had been the first to be all overly cautious of them. He had never talked about any of his worries, preferring a bottle of cheap alcohol to any nagging Martha Lucas could cause him - Wilfred's wife had always been good at that, he would give her that. Still, he had never felt comfortable around that woman. Wolf would probably slap him for even thinking badly about his wife and call him an idiot, but Leroy had never particularly cared about his friend's antics. He had been one weird man, albeit a good friend and every week since his death Leroy was drinking one glass of Scotch at the man's grave in honour of that friendship.

Well, the point was, Leroy hadn't trusted the soldiers that had came with the second War with the pretext of training exercises. Within two weeks, he had been quite confident most of those lads wouldn't be seeing the next day when sent to the battlefield. But they had improved, at least most of them. Those training exercises had been how he had met captain Gold or more accurately seen him. The man had been different from the others. It had been clear to anyone looking that he had preferred to spend most of his time alone. Leroy could respect that, but it had been weird, seeing some other officers scoff at the man, and him doing almost nothing. It hadn't seemed to bother him at all as he had carried out his duties. Leroy was quite sure that there had been no malice behind Gold's clipped answers and the way he had been interacting with others, but his almost cold demeanour had been the reason that almost no one had been missing him when the boys had been called to arms. At least that's how it would have been if then the kiss between the Captain and Belle French hadn't happened and the whole town hadn't been turned around on its axis.

And then when Gold had come back, even though he had been supposed to be dead, Leroy hadn't been surprised - men like Gold were determined to say the least, and the whole story that Gaston had presented had been scrappy at best, Leroy hadn't spent his time around Wolf to not to recognize those things. The man who had come back, though, had been different from the one who had set off.

Even now it was down to the details, but when looked close enough, one could see the contrast. The Captain was good at hiding it in public, a skill that spoke of an experience in the matter, and almost everyone could be fooled into believing that the War had left no mark on Gold. Leroy often wondered if it had something to do with the way the other officers had been looking down at the Scot or had he mastered that skill even earlier on.  

Well, it wasn't any of his business, and frankly, Leroy didn't want to know. But watched on he did. And through those months after the Captain's return, he had spotted another curious thing - Gary Gaston had been avoiding the man like the plague. He had never approached nor spoken to him, but Leroy could swear there had been something chilling in the young man's eyes when he was looking, no - glaring at the older man.

Curious.

And Unsettling.

*

The phrase nervous as a schoolboy was very accurate to his current state. One could have thought that he was 43 years old, for God's sake, not a sweating teenager, but that's how Gold felt right now. Not like a soldier - or at least an ex one - who had killed, lost men under his command and dragged himself almost literally from hell, but like a kid so apprehensive that tying the knot of his only tie was nearly an impossible task.

What on Earth had persuaded him that it was a good idea?

Gold sighed frustrated and let his hands fell to his sides in resignation, leaving the tie unmade. The answer was quite simple, really - it was Belle.

"I don't think, that's such a good idea, sweetheart."

"He won't bite you or anything you know? He's my dad, not a hound from hell."

"Sometimes I have doubts..." he murmured under his nose.

"What was that?"

"That I don't like crowds?" He answered lamely, which earned him a playful hit to the shoulder. Gold chuckled, rubbing the spot. "Sorry."

“Remind my, why do I keep spending my time with you?"

"You insist that it's love, but why is beyond me."

Belle bent down and kissed the end of his nose, smiling. "Yes, if it's not love I don't know what else it could have been."

So yeah, he had agreed to come to dinner at Belle's house, thus meeting her father properly for the first time. Come to think of it, it was quite an achievement, considering he had been back for months. Not that he had been talkative in the first place - Gold had traded maybe three sentences with the man before being shipped to the front, and now he was about to seat at the same table and manage a proper conversation. He had never been good at that, despised it even, and had wanted so badly to refuse, but the look on Belle's face had stopped him.

This dinner, for whatever reason, was important to her, she wanted him in her house and meeting her father. It was a step forward in their relationship that he was so afraid to take because, after that, there was only one step left. One he was dreading the most and couldn't push himself to make, at least not yet.

Grimacing, Gold grabbed his cane and limped towards the bed to sit heavily on the unmade bedding, his head dropping to his chest. Resigned, he pulled at the end of the tie, not looking as it hung limply in his hand, almost touching the ground. How easier it would have been to just stay in his room, but right after thinking it, he knew he couldn't do it. He had already missed the Chrismas dinner as a nasty case of pneumonia had decided it had been the best time to make him cough out his lungs. He still felt guilty about it as Belle had decided to spent almost all her free time with him then, putting cooling compresses on his fevered forehead when she should have been with her father instead.

To add to that, Gold wasn't blind nor stupid. Belle might have been smiling and telling him he just needed time and would be standing next to him through all of this, but he watched her when she thought he wasn't. She looked tired, to say the least, and he had caught her whipping her eyes more than once. Gold had tried to bring the subject subtly with Ruby Lucas but still couldn't find the right words how to do it. He was sure Belle was speaking with her friend, he really hoped she did, but Roy also knew that he was the reason behind her worries and confronting that fact was scaring him. He didn't want to be a burden, despised the fact that he was, but she kept on insisting on being there for him with every step, and no matter how much Gold hated it, he was glad that she did. Roy didn't want to think where he would have been if not for her.

But it was taking the toll on Belle and the least he could do was to go for a dinner with her father present at the table.

When younger, he had wanted to be a part of a bigger family as his own was lacking in every aspect, but had never gotten the opportunity to meet Millah's parents. It had never occurred to him at that time that maybe Millah's reluctance had been one of the early warning signs. She hadn't invited them to the wedding nor Bae's christening. His ex-wife it seemed hadn't been good at maintaining emotional bonds, and he, on the other hand, had been young and too eager to form them. It had been a miracle they had lasted together for as long as they had. Baylen had probably been the only thing keeping them together, but even that hadn't been enough in the end.

Baylen. 

Was he even alive at this point? He would have been eighteen by now, or more accurately, almost nineteen with his birthday coming in March, and the military could have been all too eager and drafted him by the end of the War... Gold hated the fact of how young the boys under his command had been, how young they had died... Could he even hope...?

Roy ran his hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. He needed to pull himself together. He had to. For Belle.  And his boy.

 Please, be alive. 

*

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You'll do fine, papa."

"You know, I can maybe go to the shop? And you can spend some time toge- "

"We're spending most of our free time together. You know it's not about that."

"Right."

Moe had spent the week before Christmas almost going bald from the nervousness about sitting at the same table with Gold. He had scolded himself all that time and had almost been ready to face the Captain when the message about the man's sickness had come. Maurice had known he should have felt bad about the other man, but it hadn't been easy to hide the relief that had washed over him. Before he had known it, he had been nodding all too vigorously as Belle had told him the news, saying she would be checking on Gold. He had known the meeting sooner or later had to take place, but to say he didn't look forward to this was underestimate. In the months after the Captain's return, Moe had learned to accept the fact that his daughter did love the man and that it hadn't been some fleeting feeling. He didn't have to like him, though. Moe had one opinion about the soldiers, and it wasn't a nice one.

"You'll do fine, papa. You'll see that you'll find something to talk about."

Well, it was inevitable. Moe sighed and cut the stems of the red roses that he freshly arranged into a bouquet then glanced at his daughter leaning against the counter.

"Alright. You can invite the Captain over to the dinner if he's willing."

"He has a name, you know."

Moe just muttered approvingly, focusing more on putting the roses into a vase. They would do nicely for the new years event; the mayor would be peased.

He didn't see Gary Gaston slipping to the back of the shop with a grave expression.

*

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Easy.

Yet not so in the slightest.

Wrapped in the thick woollen coat - a Christmas present from Belle which cost he really didn't want to spend to much time focusing on - Gold watched the mist that left his mouth. Despite the cold, the hand that held the cane was sticky with sweat. He had been standing like that for what felt like hours, but probably were mere minutes wondering if he should knock or not.

He had almost done so when an unwanted realization had stopped him. He had never been to Belle's house before. Yes, he had stood on the next side of the road many times, but had never set a foot over the porch.

It was a lovely house, painted a soft yellow, with an entrance through the flower shop overgrown with vines that had once been Belle's mother's pride and joy. Now, preserved and ran by Moe, it was one of the best-known places in Storybrooke.

Gold corrected the satchel on his left shoulder and took a step forward. It would not do to stand there like a scarecrow. He was almost touching the doorbell when the doors had opened, and someone would have almost barreled into him if Roy's reflexes weren't quicker.

"Sorry, I di -. Captain. "

The sentence was cut short as it seemed the owner of the terse, low voice had realized into whom he had almost walked in. Gold had bearly managed to avoid the collision only thanks to his instincts that had him twisting his shoulder just enough to only brush against the other man. He didn't need to look up to know who had been now blocking his path. It was easy to guess, and quite an achievement on itself that the encounter had happened just now and not a long time beforehand.

Gold drew himself up to his full height, trying to lean on his cane as little as possible. It didn't help much as he was still a lot shorter than the other man, but it had never stopped him from intimidating him.

"Sargent. Haven't seen you for a while - how have you been?"

Gold's tone was light as if he was conversating about the weather, but his eyes were slightly narrowed, betraying that the encounter hadn't been a nice one in the slightest. There was an edge to his voice too, but he doubted that Gary Gaston had noticed it. Neither this nor the fact that Gold's fingers curled tighter around the cane's handle as his ankle screamed at him to elevate the weight that he was now putting on it.

"A lot of work, sir. Glad to have you back."

I bet it is.

"Yes. I've been told I've been declared dead in action. What a relief that I wasn't, won't you say?"

"Yes, sir. A huge relief."

Lair.

He could see it in the other man's posture - the want to say and do a complete opposite of the words that were leaving his mouth. Gold had spent enough time around Sargent Gaston to be able to read him like an open book, and it wasn't hard really. Besides, the younger man had already tried to get rid of him once, so Roy wondered what was stopping him from acting. But Gaston kept on standing as he had been - back straight like during the drills. The thing that betrayed him had been the muscle in his cheek that kept on spasming now and again.

"Well, I must be going. I have a dinner to attend to, you see."

Gold watched for a reaction and Gaston didn't disappoint. His right eyelid twitched, his jaw clenched and it seemed that he tried really hard not to ball his hands into fists.

"Of course, sir. I won't keep you waiting."

Oh, you already did.

Gold could feel the man's eyes on his back as he turned around, his every instinct screaming at him not to expose himself - the last time his back was turned Gaston had put a bullet through his shoulder. And it had been Gaston - now Roy was more sure of that than ever.

But he did turn around and limped through the flower shop's door and even when they closed behind him, he could swear, Gaston's gaze was still drilling holes in his back even through the wood.

He purposefully didn't turn around and tried to ignore the itching between his shoulder blades. Gold wasn't an amateur. He knew how to mask his emotions most of the time - he wouldn't have gotten to where he was now if he didn't - so he limped further into the shop without a glance back.

The place itself wasn't big - cluttered with flowers at every possible surface and all, but it gave away a homely feel. It was easy to spot Belle's hand in some areas. There - a careful arrangement of blue hyacinths with golden ribbons on the far right and then the bouquet of roses arranged in a heart in the middle of the display. She had mentioned once that putting flowers into shapes calmed her mind. It was something she had inherited from her mother it had seemed.

Gold looked around, unsure of where to go next, feeling like a fish out of water. Noone seemed to be at the front, and there was no move at the back indicating either Belle or her father hiding there, so not wanting to snoop around, he made his way towards the counter. The curiosity got better of him when he spotted a small photo frame, sitting on the edge. Gold picked it up without thinking, the corner of his mouth curling slightly when fully seeing the photograph.

A young woman was sitting on a rocking chair and smiling while holding a wee baby girl. Even without the colour, it was quite obvious who the woman was - her eyes and mouth were the same shape as Belle's not to mention the wavy hair. If the woman was who he thought she was then the child... Gold's smile winded.

"I'm sorry, we're closed! Oh." Gold bearly stopped himself from jumping in surprise and letting go of the frame upon hearing the low voice. He turned around and found himself looking at Belle's very uncomfortably looking father.

"Mr French. I apologize for barging in. The door was unlocked."

"Yes, yes. Not your fault, Captian."

By the look of it, it seemed that Gold wasn't the only one nervous about the oncoming dinner. Moe rubbed his hands on his trousers, then made a gesture towards the door. "Just a moment."

Gold watched him turning the lock, only realizing that he was still holding on to the frame when French's gaze fell back on it after turning around. The silence that followed couldn't be more awkward.

"Belle resembles her mother a lot,"  remarked Gold while putting the frame back on its previous place, trying for a casual tone.

"Oh, she does. And not only in looks."

Not knowing what more there was to say they stood watching one another for good two minutes before French remembered that it would be better for both of them to head upstairs.

Yes, the dinner had already started to look like quite a disaster.

*

How a simple dinner could become an awkward affair was quite beyond her. Belle fisted her hand under the table, trying really hard not to bang her head on any of the china. It wasn't like she didn't notice and appreciated the effort that both men were putting into this assemble, no. The problem was, they were trying too hard it seemed - both of them.

Her father looked like he wanted to bolt away any minute from the start, but he had politely inclined about the weather and Roy, looking like he had been facing a fairing squad would answer even more politely to his enquiries.

They were dancing around each other, shooting her sideways glances from time to time, and it was making Belle want to bang their heads together. She really didn't know what to do.

Roy had been back for months, and even if he looked and acted better than he had at first, she knew that a considerable part of it was just an act or more likely an act that slowly was becoming a reality. She made her peace that he would probably never tell her about what had happened during the War, but she wished he would trust her enough to know it didn't matter to her. She just wished he would understand and believe that he wasn't as worthless with his disabilities as he thought himself to be.

She had thought she had lost him once.

That belief, that feeling - it had almost destroyed her. She didn't want to feel it again. It didn't change the fact that the helplessness was slowly getting to her.

"43."

"Oh? And you say you fought in the First War?"

Belle was pulled back from her thoughts by the sudden change of topic. It looked like her father had stopped bitting around the bush and judging by the look on Roy's face, it would have been better if he hadn't.

"But that would make you - "

"16. Now lads had only gotten younger."

The silence that fell over the table felt heavy. Nobody liked to talk about the losses that the War had caused, most of all, Roy. A shadow fell over his face every time the topic was breached, and now it seemed, those scars laid far deeper in his past than she had thought.

"I didn't know you have fought then," Belle whispered, looking down on the plate. She wasn't even born then, and Roy had already... She glanced up, and he sent her a small yet sad smile.

"That last year hadn't been one of the fondest memories."

16...

"Hey," she glanced up when she felt his hand on hers under the table, squeezing reassuringly. Roy was still smiling, even if it didn't reach his eyes. "It's in the past. Not important."

She rotated her hand, threading her fingers through his and squeezed back.

"Nothing that's part of you is unimportant."

His smile winded, not enough to show his teeth, but enough to finally to reach his eyes and he was just about to answer when a clutter of cutlery made both of them jump in their sits. Belle turned her head towards her father, bearly resisting from grinning at how he tried not to look affected, busing his hands with cleaning the splatters of soup on the table with a napkin.

"How silly of me. Clumsy and all, can't reach for a cigarette without a mess," Moe muttered, not looking at them but the flush on his cheeks betraying him.

Belle chuckled then and stood up, taking the napkin from her father and kissing him on the cheek.

"I'll leave the two of you to your smoking and be back in a minute, all right?"

She needed some fresh air.

"You sure?" Moe looked up, his eyes running over her face, searchingly. "I can clean up - "

"It's fine, papa. Relax. You both behave yourselves."

The remark made both Gold and her father almost choke on their drinks, and she shook her head while taking the dishes away.

"Men," she muttered.

Gold watched her go with a lump forming in his throat, briefly wondering if she was doing it on purpose. He knew she needed time to breathe, the small remark that he had been a part of the First War seemed to shake her, and he chid himself for not speaking about it sooner. Maybe then the air between them would have been cleaner? But he had seen no reason to add to the already heavy baggage of guilt. Besides the topic had just simply never come up.

"Well, it seemed we had been left once again alone," Belle's father muttered which made Gold glance in his direction. "Care for a smoke, Captain?"

The corner of Gold's mouth twitched.

"I never say no to that."

They smoked in silence; both of them focused on the smoke rising and dancing in the air. When younger, Gold liked to look for shapes and make rings that rose high towards the ceiling, he had a brief memory of his son clapping at the display those rare times Roy had been smoking indoors.   He didn't know when he had ceased doing those silly things.

"Colette wanted me to stop," remarked Moe as he shook ashes from the cigarette. "Couldn't bring myself to do it, honestly. A nasty habit."

Gold grimaced. "Belle doesn't like it either."

"She's stubborn, I warn you. She got it after her mother."

Gold didn't answer. Instead, he flexed his fingers over the handle of his cane that rested against his leg. Stubborn was one way to put it.

"You got any children, Captain?"

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the smoke. That question was one of the reasons he hated small talks. Gold knew he could lie, or brush it aside, but something in him didn't want to. A little honesty wouldn't hurt, would it?

"A son," he answered, managing not to react to the surprise written all over French's face and resisting from riching towards the absent pendant. He took a long drag instead. "He's away." More or less.

"Well then," Moe cleared his throat. "As a parent speaking to a parent, you must understand why I'm worried."

"Mr. French - "

"No, Captain, Let me finish." - He raised his hand, looking at the ex-soldier through the smoke. "I can't say I like any of it. I can't say I understand. But what I can say is that I want my daughter happy. So, are we on the same page here?"

Gold looked to the side, through the doorway that Belle had disappeared earlier. Yes, he had remembered how she had told him how her father had been insistent about her relationship with Gaston, but could he blame him? If he was in Maurice's shoes, wouldn't he act the same? On one side, a young man and a friend of the family while on the other, there had been an old soldier, new to the town and unfamiliar - Moe's choice and opinion weren't as surprising when faced with the facts.

He turned his gaze back towards the other man. "Yes. I think we are."

"Good." They lit another cigarette. "Have you thought about proposing?"

Gold choked on the smoke. How could that be that it was the man, who had looked like he had wanted to escape earlier was the same one as asking those questions?

"I think that this matter is more between Belle and me," he remarked, not wanting to dwell on the subject.

Moe shrugged his shoulders. "I would have given you her mother's ring, but I had pawned it years ago. I was quite - "

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Gold stood up, putting out the cigarette and gripping his cane tightly. A polite talk he could do, but this conversation was starting to enter areas that he really didn't want to poke.

"Yes, yes, of course."

Judging by how relieved Belle's father looked at the announcement, he was more than happy to let it go.

Gold limped through the doorway, but not finding Belle anywhere near the kitchen he made his way towards the open balcony door. The air was chilly, as adequate for early January, and Gold shivered as a gush of wind blew some of the snowflakes against his face. He cautiously stepped over the threshold, instantly spotting Belle by the railing. She was leaning on her elbows, her cheeks red from the cold, although dressed in a heavy coat - his coat.

"You'll catch a cold if you keep standing there, you know?"

She didn't jump when hearing his voice only slightly turned in his direction, a smile dancing across her lips.

"Care to warm me up, then?"

His eyes softened, and without hesitation, he draped his arm over her shoulder, enjoying the warmth that spread inside of him as Belle snuggled closer, bringing her arms around his middle.

She didn't speak for a while, face buried in Roy's coat, listening to his heartbeat as her cheek rested on his chest. He smelled of tobacco that weirdly didn't match him as her father smoked a different brand, but beneath it, there was that other smell that was so undoubtedly his that it made her feel safe and calm.

"Did my father scared you off?" she mumbled.

"Hmm? No, I don't think so. He... um, he spoke of proposing, though," he added after a moment, hesitant. She could feel his shoulders tensing.

She glanced up, searching his eyes, but he avoided looking at her. She didn't know what to feel. Hope? Fear?

"Roy - "

"Would you like me to?" He interrupted, meeting her gaze. There was something in his eyes that she didn't know how to read. Uncertainty? "To propose, I mean."

"And would you?"

A question for a question. Only fair, considering they both seemed to know the answer.

Roy sighed, looking into the distance.

"Of course, I would. But is it bad that not yet? I- Well, yeah."

Belle couldn't help but smile softly and only after a moment she climbed on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"No. How about we both wait a little bit longer, then?"

"I'm sorry, I keep worrying you. You don't deserve that."

"Roy - "

"No. Let me finish," Roy interrupted her for a second time, twisting so he could look her in the eye. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Belle. When was the last time you went out with Ms Lucas or anyone else?"

Her silence was enough of an answer, so Gold took her chilly hands in his. "I can't love you enough for what you're doing for me, but you need to take care of yourself too. It's enough that one of us is, well, not enough."

By the end, he wasn't looking at her anymore, and Belle rubbed her hand over his cheek to comfort him as best as she could. They were quite a pair.

"You're enough for me."

He turned his face and kissed her palm.

"I love you."

"I love you too, and you're right, but you can't stop me from worrying."

"I worry too, you know?"

She giggled lightly. Yes, quite a pair they were.

"How about a deal?" She asked, taking a step away from him.

"You want to make a deal with me?" He asked, frowning.

"Yep. I will try not to over-worry, and you'll try not to think about yourself as inadequate."

He raised his brow.

"Hard terms, but it seems fair, I admit."

"Then deal it is, captain Gold."

"All right, miss French. A deal is struck." They shock their hands just as a chill went down both of their bodies, making them shiver. "Now, how about we head inside, or your father may wonder what we have gotten into."

Belle giggled then hugged him one last time before taking his hand into hers and tugging him towards the flat. "God forbid, he came looking."

The rest of the dinner went more smoothly, but as Gold returned to his small room, the remark that Belle's father made about his wife's wedding band kept playing over in his head. There was only one pawn shop in Storybrooke. Maybe it was time to make a short visit there.

*

Gary Gaston stood outside the flower shop door for a long time after they had closed after captain Gold.

He didn't know what to do. After he had heard about the accident involving Nottingham, he had hoped the man would be in bad enough shape to do Gary a little favour and die, but it seemed to be a futile hope. Getting his own hands on Gold was continuing to be a problem considering he was hardly ever alone...

Some would think that Gary had forgotten, that he had gotten over the humiliation that was loosing to an older man, but no, he hadn't. Nor had he forgiven.

A lone snowflake fell on the tip of his nose, making him look up to the sky.

Well, he had been inpatient and too sure of himself once. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

Gary Gaston turned on his heel and marched towards his home.

It didn't matter if Gold suspected him or not - a good hunter could wait as long as needed, and if anything, Gary was a good hunter.